Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Train Lag





Perpignan Station's notice of trains with the TGV in the background at an ungodly hour and no hint of the problems to come. I don't care what Dali says about the station, I don't want it as my "centre of the universe."
Train lag is a variation of jet lag. It’s no secret that I love the European trains, with the Swiss system being far ahead of the French who fall victim to greves (strikes) but even with that the French trains are usually wonderful.

Why I agreed to a 6:10 train I do not know. I suppose getting to Geneva at 12:37 made some sense. My housemate said she’d pick me up and we’d go to the Mikado for lunch. Thus began the sushi countdown as in five days until I have my sushi lunch, four days until...

I passed only closed boulangeries as I wheeled my suitcase (heavier than usual because I’d put my laptop in it) through the Argelès streets to the station. The smell of baking bread attacked me from several places. In Perpignan (according to Dali the centre of the universe) there wasn’t time between trains to pick up anything to eat. Besides the TGV was on the opposite quai and the idea of lugging the suitcase down the stairs, risking the up elevator to the station, back down and up where there are no escalators, seemed counter productive even if I had had the time.

This train had a snack bar, but the conductor told me, it wouldn’t be open until Montpellier. By then I was definitely peckish. However, after Montpellier, the snack bar didn’t open. People who know me, realise that when I get hungry I switch into my Mr. Hyde mode. In fact, Hyde is a kind gentle soul in comparison.

Had we not been late into Lyon, I could have grabbed something to eat between trains. I know all the spots having spent lots of time there tooing and frooing from Geneva. Still, I was comforted with the thought of sushi being only and hour and a half away…
WRONG.
For some reason the Geneva bound train sat and sat and sat on the quai. It finally pulled out of the station and the conductor announced we were going to Macon Village, not a scheduled stop and in a slightly different direction to the left. My writer’s imagination developed an entire script on a hijacked train. This varied with attacking everyone else on the train in case they had food or storming the driver’s cabin and making him stop at a restaurant. At the time my train was due into Geneva we were finally back on the proper route.

We arrived at 14:05…my housemate had not waited because she had another appointment. I headed for UBS to replenish my Swiss cash then Burger King, needing to get something into my stomach and it was close. Mr Hyde disappeared.

I made it home only to discover my angelic housemate had bought a plate of sushi home. I now picture her with a halo around her head. We had it with a glass of champagne for the evening meal to celebrate my return.

Train lag left me ready for bed at 21:00 and I indulged. I had earned it.

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