To reduce my air travel, I decided to take the train from Amsterdam to Halle in east Germany where I work. On Tuesday, the weather was clear, with no significant delays on the horizon. The journey of 7 1/2 hours via Hanover only took 80 minutes longer than scheduled, more than reasonable by German standards these days. I checked into my hotel, stepped outside for a doner kebab, Germany’s national dish besides curry wurst, and woke the next day to the news that my meetings had been cancelled. Due to the roadblocks, the commute from Berlin to Leipzig was no longer possible. So, my colleagues would WFH.
My quest to escape from Germany starts here, with the most pressing question: Would I be able to cross the border in time to catch a train back to Amsterdam? I once tried to fly to the remote Banda Islands in Indonesia from Ambon, patiently waiting for a flight that wouldn’t show up. An impeccably dressed staff member of Susi Air meekly informed me in sing-song English: ‘Sir, unfortunately weather conditions do not permit, sir.’
The ferry, which would leave two days later, was my only option. A journey of some 14 hours, it departed 4 hours late, effectively bringing my delay close to three days.
I can handle delays. Or train journeys that do not go as planned. One swelteringly hot afternoon, taking a three-tier non-AC train from Bijapur to Pune, my fellow passengers suddenly started closing the window shutters. Seeing me puzzled, a kurta-clad gentleman put down his newspaper and pointed up, begging me to listen, after which I noticed some faint clinging and clonking. ‘Dacoits,’ he said, ‘throwing stones, to stop train and rob.’
Yet, the train continued unabated, crossing through an arid and scorched landscape, which wouldn’t see the monsoon for another few months. The lands I am journeying through now are covered with a thin layer of frost and snow. Inside the train, it’s freezing – some issue with the heating, a German conductor explained gruffly. Last night, faced with another 40-min delay on the station of the small town of Altenbeken, I struck up a conversation with an architectural student from Hyderabad, who found it oddly fascinating how ill-prepared I was for the madness of the German railway system. I missed Indian trains, I told him, sardonically adding ‘their efficiency’. He laughed raucously and offered a fist bump.In early February, I am planning on taking the train from Villupuram junction to Rameshwaram in Tamil Nadu. There will be delays. But at least it will be warm and good food at the station. I forgot to ask the Hyderabadi fellow’s name. But he told me of a temple facing the sea where two flags wave towards each other in opposite directions. I would remember him by it, I said.
A few years ago, travelling to the remote Quirimbas Archipelago of Mozambique in the Indian Ocean – initially by car for hours across bumpy roads and then ferried by boat over choppy waters – my partner enquired how we intended to return. The same way, I answered. He grumbled and proceeded to arrange for a small plane with steely Bangalorean determination.
Flying over these lush and fertile islands towards the mainland in roughly 20 min instead of the 8 hours it had taken us to get there, I could see his point. I should remember this more often.
