Dispatch from Europe - Knit One, Tipple Two

I've been on a lot of trains lately while traveling throughout Europe. Sometimes, the people watching is more entertaining than the scenery.

I've been hop-scotching through Eastern Europe and now am on a train from Prague to Berlin. We've just passed from Czechoslovakia into Germany and are stopped. What unfolds is a repeat of the drama that has played out at all the borders I've crossed by train on this trip. Border guards from the country we are departing come on with guards from the country we are entering and they pass through the car checking passengers' papers. The guards from one country inevitably try to outshine the ones from the other, preening in their uniforms with stiff backs, upturned noses, and an officious air - Que es mas macho. They scan the passengers and if they stop at you, they snatch your passport, snap it open, and look you over - up, down, and sideways - and then stamp it with a flourish and move along.

Anyhoo, the consolation with this border crossing theatre is that you end up with a cool passport stamp with a little picture of a train engine. It looks like a piece from the game "Monopoly".

Generally, I'm not a chatty person when I travel. In fact, I tend to be downright stand-offish. After a cursory nod and smile to my seat neighbor, I usually put on headphones and begin to read something - the equivalent of a "Do Not Disturb" sign. 


But at times, despite these defences, I am defeated by a seat mate that is illiterate in body language. One such time was the other day on my train to Prague. My seat neighbor was "James" from Southern California. He was a gentle guy and laid back but, Shazam!, could he talk. He started talking to me even with my headphones on and rarely took a breath thereafter (He must have a lot of pent up energy from being so laid back). He spoke at length about being at Prague Castle and went into great detail about how, despite wandering around for hours, he couldn't find a castle at Prague Castle. Well I know that I saw a castle when I was at Prague Castle. I know because I almost got arrested there. Indeed, I came pretty close to seeing if there was a dungeon in the castle too. But I just let James run with it.


Then there was the train to Salzburg. A couple sat in front of me. The man kept taking out some nasty smelling meat concoction, schmearing some on bread, and eating it. I couldn't ID the protein but it was unbelievably foul-smelling. When he opened the container, there was a collective groan from the other passengers but he didn't give a hoot. His wife caught on and tried to get him to put it away. But he wasn't having it. When we arrived in Salzburg, I got off the train so fast I left behind the novel I was reading AND my iPod.


And then there was the overnight train I took from Zurich to Paris. The train was all but empty when I boarded and I had a compartment to myself. Later a backpacking student joined me but he was tired and cashed out quickly. I don't sleep well on planes and trains but eventually, I dozed off too. When I woke, many people were in the compartment and more were coming in. We were getting closer to Paris and the train was becoming a commuter one. 

This lady sat next to me, took off her shoes, and started rubbing her feet. Then she put on socks and curled her legs to put her feet up on the bench seat next to me. Now, I run hot. I'm almost always warm. And people who are cold tend to gravitate to my heat. So the next thing I know, this lady's feet are snuggling against, and then under, my thigh as she dozed. I'm not a feet person, even when they are familiar feet, and I'm certainly not a feet person when they belong to strangers. But I didn't know what to do. By this time, the car was crowded. There was nowhere to go, so I just let her have at it. I paid it forward and let her use me as her foot warmer.

But I digress. Back to the present. On this train from Prague to Berlin, there is some beautiful countryside. In Germany, I keep seeing Victorian-style grand homes on hillsides. Some look abandoned and haunted. They seem so out of place in this part of the world.


My attention shifts to three sixty-something couples sitting near me. One of the women is knitting up a storm. It's about 10:30 in the morning. She looks at her watch, puts down her knitting, and from her knitting bag, she pulls out beers for the group. She pours beer into cups for the ladies and gives the men bottles. From her bag, she then pulls out brown-paper-wrapped little bottles of some booze - I think the name is "Underberg"? She pours it into small, plastic shot glasses and passes them around. With raised glasses and a hearty "Prost!", they all down the shots and chase them with the beer. The lady then collects the glasses and bottles, stashes them back in her bag, and resumes her knitting while they all sit in silence. End scene.

I wonder how that morning kick will affect her knitting? If more of those beverage breaks are in the itinerary, her grandson's Christmas sweater may have a cowl neck...and only one sleeve.