I arrived in Dusseldorf from Venezia a week ago. It was latish on a Sunday evening and earlier that day I had lugged a heavy bag and two ancillary bags, laden with mandatory Italian shopping exploits, from my Venetian flat on the Carneggio canal across a bridge and down another canal to where the boat leaves for Marco Polo airport.
It seemed a romantic way to depart the movie set scene of Venezia (I keep remembering it was here that George C married that other woman just a few months ago; alas it was never our fate to meet). Unfortunately, they don’t tell you there is a 750 metre walk from where the boats arrive and planes depart… Nevertheless, it was worth the walk to feel so aquatic and international.
Then the flight over the Alps north to Dusseldorf was spectacular with the snow-sprinkled jagged peaks of the Dolomites piercing the rose-tinted clouds beneath a full moon. I strained to notice where those peaks merged with the rolling white of the European Alps where it all looks so soft, gentle and comforting as the snow blurs and molds the mountain’s sharpness. After 1000s of flights, I never get sick of sitting in the window seat and looking out at the landscape.
And then Germany, always organised; always easy to find one’s way around. Surely it will be easy to work out how to get the train to Kleve in the north-west for a four-day lecturing stint? Well I find the shuttle to the train station, eventually, and arrive just as the ticket office is shutting. No worries, I’ll use the machines to get my tickets to Kleve. After several attempts, I convince the machine to take my 20 Euro note and then try and work out which platform I should get on. There appears to be no lifts, just stairs.
I read the screen showing when and where trains leave but none of it makes sense and no trains mention Kleve. Finally, I give in and ask a nice gentleman who tries to work it out for me. He directs me to a platform which mentions the destination of Munich (or Munchen) but it doesn’t seem to mention Kleve. I ask some other people… and finally I work out I need to go into Dusseldorf’s main station and catch another train there…and that train is leaving from another platform. I run upstairs with my 3 bags and then down another set of stairs and just make the train… by the time I get my breathe back we arrive at the station I need to change at and I do it all again..
But I make the train to Kleve, arrive and get picked up by the owner of the B&B where I am staying and all is well..
Yes the last 11 months have been a wonderful kaleidoscope of new places, people and adventures, but there have been travel challenges, coldness, damp, wet dirty bathrooms, cranky people, missed planes and the odd bit of loneliness… So I will be glad to get home to the sunshine, cupboards where I can hang my clothes, and the friends who know me too well.
It will give me time to regroup, sort my photos, write all those blog posts I’ve drafted in my mind over the past 11 months, sit quietly in one or two places, and get ready for the next travel adventure.
(1965)