I flew to Eindhoven and began my last leg of the journey, and isn't that a melodramatic way to start this entry.
A little bit of obligatory background info because I actually do have a bit more to say about this part of of trip, plus my Lisbon probably read as very flat as they were really just pictures and nothing else. I said it in my entries there but there really wasn't much I could remember about it, other than it being very beautiful, very Mediterranean and of course scorchingly hot.
My friend Eddie was doing his Erasmus at Maastricht University, and he had come over to stay with me in London for two weeks, in March. Naturally he returned the favour, and I went over to his place to stay for about 10 days - I can't remember the exact length of my stay, but something like that. Maastricht is a typical European small town whose main function is to get to other places. It's apparently very popular as an EU summit spot as it's right on the border of Germany and Belgium. My dad's been there too.
I flew there via transavia, and it was one of the most expensive flights I've been on in Europe, costing somewhere around 30 to 45 EUR. I just checked on edreams and it's 38 EUR, but now there's a new Ryanair route that flies for 19 EUR. Well I didn't have Ryanair on that flight two years ago.
In any case, it was dusk by the time I got to Eindhoven, and I began a rather painstaking journey to Maastricht. First I had to get to Eindhoven train station, then I was supposed to catch a train to Maastricht. The trains in this part of the world are very comfy and modern and clean, and so far everything was going to plan, and I was very pleased with myself. By the time I'd gotten onto the Maastricht-bound train it was rather late - the last train as a matter of fact - but I'd timed everything perfectly and Eddie was coming to pick me up anyway, so that was that. I sat back in my comfy Dutch train seat and lazily thumbed my way through Facebook, checked my itinerary and mentally went over the logistics of the trip, then put on Hotel California and tapped my foot to the rhythm and waited for the train to reach Maastricht.
Then the train lurched to a halt and the train master boomed out an announcement that was, conveniently, all in Dutch. No English translations at all. (They do this a lot in western Europe.) Everyone started talking in panicked Dutch, and people started leaving their seats. Eventually everyone grabbed their luggage and started filing off. Panicked, I grabbed a young Dutch guy and said, what's going on. He said that someone had jumped under the train.
I was amazed, rather than alarmed, at what had happened. Disbelief at what had happened, mostly. I got off the train too - we were stuck in a tiny station in the middle of nowhere, somewhere called Weert I think - and the station master was just as muddled as everyone else. It was quite cold too, and people sat on their luggage and talked. Some of the young people were laughing, a few people were quite annoyed, including the young guy I'd spoken to, and the alarm was beginning to set in for me. I wondered how the heck I'd be able to get to Maastricht, and considered staying at a nearby motel for the night - but the hotel manager had gotten wind that there was trouble here, and had gleefully raised the hotel room prices up to something unreasonable like 100 EUR.
We milled around the station in limbo for about two hours before someone announced that the railway was sending down a couple of coaches. It then took another two hours of waiting and queuing to actually get onto the coach. During this time I'd been phoning and texting Eddie, who was as nonplussed as I was.
It took yet another hour to get to Maastricht railway station, and after about half an hour of waiting Eddie finally appeared to pick me up, as his dormitory was right on the other side of town. We half-biked, half walked there, and I agreed with him; I never would have been able to make the journey alone.
When we finally got to his place, I washed and sat down in his kitchen, exhausted, still a bit shellshocked after the events of the night, but most of all relieved. I spoke to my family about what had happened, went on Facebook and spoke to a few friends, and at long last went to bed.
I spent the next few days walking around Maastricht, talking to Eddie's flatmates - also Erasmus students - and sitting in his kitchen, going on Skype, writing, and thinking. A lot of this time was spent speaking to Alin, the Romanian boy I'd kind of fallen in love with in Barcelona. How fondly I remember those times! I also spoke a lot to Nadja.
Aachen was probably on the third or fourth day. I went there by bus, and wasn't sure what to expect, as I'd never been to Germany before. I would go in the future (continental 4) of course; but for the present, here I was. To myself, I always called Aachen by its French name, Aix la Chapelle; in the words of Robert Browning, How they brought the good news from Ghent to Aix.
I went to Ghent too, but that's another story for another entry.
The bus ride was boring and uneventful, like all bus rides are.
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| One of the towns we went through |
Aix is famed for being one of Charlemagne's favourite cities, and was ultimately his final resting place. Much like Transylvania milks Dracula and Frombork Copernicus, this town milks Charlemagne for all he's worth - his likeness is plastered all over town, bakeries feature loaves baked the shape of his face, and there are books and statues and keyrings all dedicated to him.
This town was also Anne Frank's grandmother's hometown, and Anne herself lived there for a year or two.
I did a lot of walking around in the old town. It wasn't particularly German, but that's to be expected.
The Rathaus.
And the town square. Very German now.
A glimpse of the Aachener Dom.
