And Outside The Rain Fell...

All classes for today stand cancelled. Group meet with at college for an assignment due next week! Sigh. Got my credit card. Used the Velib free cycle. I loved it.

Back in wonderful Paris.
Busy day. Classes all day. CAF filled. Good food, now in the college canteen.

Arriving into the University town of Koblenz, we were engulfed in thick fog all around. Students streamed in and out of the station, and we had a helping of Yoghurt and fruits to kick off morning.

Walking down into the streets looking for the Rhine, we came across some of the most elaborate graffiti I’ve witnessed on the walls of an underpass.

We could hardly spot the bank of the river amidst the fog, and expected the Rhine river cruise to be quite a lull if the fog did not lift. The cruise was to take us down the river Rhine to Rudelshiem. The journey onwards mostly was fog, until the sun suddenly peeped out around 11 and the beautiful countryside came out in its full splendour. The castles, small and originally intended to collect toll, were built by thieving barons and bishops, from what was then the busiest waterway in the world, now looked rather decrepit with time.

Eventually, the Rhine river ceased to be used for transport by the shipping companies due to the extremely high tolls by the feudal lords, which marked the beginning of their decline. Today, most of them own vineyards, acres of them, and almost all of them have ropeways to the top. Cruising along on this almost historic waterway was obscenely boring, except when the castles popped up in the hills dotting the river. The castles were beautiful, picture perfect with their gun turrets and their towers, their fortifications and vineyards all along the hill slopes. The little idyllic towns along the side were just that – little and idyllic, with an occasional church spire towering above in the sky. Too bad mist covered most of it for good photography. The cruise was at a snail's pace, and weirdly (Mondays being half price for senior citizens) we were surrounded by people over 65, the average age probably scrapping 75! Drifting off into sleep between the “ooooh” and “ammmphs” marking a new castle spotted; the cruise was, in retrospect fun.

The trouble began when we realized our cruise was late, we were misinformed about the timings, and more importantly, we might miss our connecting train to Paris. Being in Paris tomorrow was terribly important; we had classes we couldn't miss.

We reached Rudelshiem at 3.15, running about looking for the station. Spotting tracks by the river, we ran along it, eventually spotting a train at the station. Not wanting to go all around the entrance, the four of us jumped in tandem, spiked bars notwithstanding, across the fence, running across to the shutting train doors. The checker immediately opened the door again, and he did not understand a word of English. Life was harsh, and we did not know if the train would take us to Frankfurt. Our connecting train to Paris at 4.50 pm, and the next train out of this station at 4.10, we were doomed to miss this train. Hungry since morning, feeling wretched, tired, and without a way to get back to Paris, we tried every combination to get to Frankfurt in time. But the soonest we could get there was 5.40, far too late. Worse still, Tards would be catching the train from Frankfurt (and we were to join him there), his phone wasn't reachable and there was absolutely no way we could reach him.

Frustrated and looking for a way out, the only option was to get to Frankfurt and take the Paris train at 7.10, shelling out another 15 Euros and assuming the reservation counters remained open.

We did exactly that, again having to catch a connecting train to get to Frankfurt - this time under a minute (you can imagine it as a comedy - four chaps with heaving baggage, running madly across platforms, trying to get our legs in before the doors to the train closed. My pant too was falling off, so I had one hand on my belt, one on my bag, a jacket on my forearm, another bag on another forearm and a backpack at the back). Getting in just in time, we couldn't stop laughing at what was transpiring.

A perfect day gone all wrong.

Reaching Frankfurt at 5.40, navigating our way to the reservation counter and getting a Queue number of 27, we began designating duties- one hunts for vegetarian food, two guys stand for reservations, and another looks for alternate booking ways.

We heaved a sigh of relief when we got our reservations on the 7pm train, and feasted on huge Falafels at 3.50 Euros a piece. We met the rest of the ESCP gang in the same train, and the day finally was back to normal.

Only it had to get better. Tards messaged, we met the train ticket checker who had been informed of us missing our train and with a big smile sympathized with our situation. Watching the French SCNF(The French rail company) and the Deutsche Bahn(the German rail company) checkers discuss our predicament and decide to refund our 15 Euros was quite a sight. I sheepishly was murmuring Danke and Merci under the same breath.

Everything suddenly sorted out, we relaxed, caught up on lost conversations with others from ESCP and settled down comfortably into our ICE Train, cruising along at 180km/hr. I spoke to the people I love most, and drifted off to sleep yet again.

A mighty 4 day stubble, soiled clothes, unkempt hair and 12 days of unadultered madness. Eurotrip had begun in style. And how.

Munich!!! Oktoberfest. Yoo-hoo. Being a teetotaller, I have little idea why I am so excited to visit this beer fest in the centre of Bavarian Germany, but having now done so, I can say that Yoo-hoo all over again.

Reaching Munich at a comfortable 11pm, doing our routine searches (almost in order - search for Boingo, Luggage Lockers, City maps, tourist information centre and Subway - it reminds me of Hermione casting protective spells outside their tent while on exile). Doing the usual, we encountered a very rude Tourist information guide - a chap who spoke in monosyllables, pointed to a 0.3 euro map every time we asked a question and seemed to say, "Oktoberfest. Why bother with anything else". Walking a few hops across Munich and encountering tall, gothic bell towers, we reached the fest grounds. And oh, what festivities!

The entrance we took had super neurotic rides everywhere- being plunged from a 13 storey tower, having your body twisted and turned like you are in a washing machine or being hung upside down in a weird position several feet in the air, it made my heart skips several several beats. I wanted to be on them! But probably not now. Not now.

Next - water. We need water that did not cost 3.5 Euros to a litre, and walked around a little of Munich trying to figure out where we could. An evangelical charity came to our rescue finally, with the volunteers (who worked with people in Africa) allowing us to fill our bottles.

Our thirsts quenched, we returned to the fest. And that's when we encountered the "tents". Temples of debauchery, they would put Bacchus and Dionysus to shame, such was the revelry and merrymaking.

Sporting local beer brands, and each tent having its unique, distinctive charm, we hopped around, dancing to the loud German music, watching people go absolutely crazy with their kegs of beer. It is a place no mother would like her son to be at, but weirdly, I saw that entire families came here together. Grandfathers, father, sons, and their respective girls. They were all decked in traditional Bavarian clothes - knee length trousers strapped to the shoulders for men with white shirts and wacky caps. The women were in frocks with plunging necklines, their hair done in pig tails and a blush of red on their cheeks. It was a way of life here, much like our Dusshera or the Gujarthi Garba, an annual tradition of sorts.

Beer flowed in huge litre high tumblers, and a kind old family allowed us to watch the festivities from their table. And oh, what mirth! Even being teetotallers, we could join in the fun, humming to unknown german songs and dancing on chairs, getting photographed with complete strangers and watch people go totally "Talli". It was so crazy; I knew we had done the right thing taking this diversion to Munich.

Affection flew between couples, and it could get rather embarrassing even for us at times! Ha-ha. It was pseudo drunk love all around, what with old men flirting about with young girls.

The "temples" were decked completely in finery, and each different in its own way, probably reflecting the traditions of the brewery itself. With mascots as hungry lions or gremlins, stud horses or traditional German farmers, they all charmed in their own way. The massive tents were football field sized, with a few tables reserved for those who would pay a premium for being at their favourite brewery's tent, the rest filled with merry hoppers. Most came in huge groups, all dressed for the occasion and laughing and partying boisterously.

Leaving the crazy fun temporarily, and wanting to watch it once again at night, we headed back to station. We still had to decide what we were doing for the night- Munich was sold out, anything available would be far too expensive, all overnight international trains were full, and we could find absolutely no connection out for the night. Thankfully, Munich station never shut, and resigned to the pleasure of spending another night at the station, we grabbed our customary subway, and headed for the sub lines, which were now free! We went across to Marinetplatz, climbing the steep St. Peter's Church spire for a euro, getting a spectacular view of the city. Bells struck here at odd hours all day, sometimes in tandem, mostly not. Watching the setting sun, we could spot the Munich Olympic stadium, the Bayern München dome, several church spires and even the first lights from the Oktober fest.

Getting down again, we walked about a bit, covering fantastic unmarked buildings on the streets, got a fantastic bargain at Pizza Hut for their margarita pizzas (okay, I admit it, we shamelessly begged for a discount. The kind chap almost threw 40% off on the price!), and returned to the Station catching up with Josen and Rex from Wimwi. Both of them are always a pleasure being around with, and they gave us company to the October fest again, this time in lights. We soon crossed paths with what seemed like half of Wimwi - Ankur, Mohit, Abhiroop and Jhoomer, and we also let out our customary “ZigZag” tempo shouts there in the grounds. For once, we were the ones shouting. It felt good being back with Wimwi crowd, and another tent later, we took a walk around the park. Strewn with bits of glass and crazy drunk people, I knew I’d probably never come here again, but I loved the place while I was here, if it was only for the completely different experience.

Meanwhile, out of the blue, we made plans to head out to Koblenz for the night. We could at least spend the night in those fantastic ICE trains, and see a new place while we were at it. Heading back to station, we had apples, filled water and headed out to the platform to board our train.
Germany will be fun when we return. For now, settling the hopelessly complicated expense accounts and putting a tired exhausted body to sleep.

26.9
By the end of today, I had quite some difficulty in figuring what I did all day!

4 countries, 4 people, 3 trains and lots of sleep. We were moving away from Scandic Europe back to mainland, through a short stay over at Munich.

Oslo greeted us in the morning, with Baba joining us who was in apparently in the same train as ours since last night. Our first train was to leave to Goteberg in Sweden at 8.30 in the morning. Routing out the Subways in Goteberg early morning on the net, we set forth in a thoroughly uneventful journey, traversing the Nordic countryside deep in sleep after 10 days of country hopping. Breakfast was sandwiches and Marie biscuits, and we anticipated a yummy lunch at Goteberg.

Currency conversion in the Nord countries is always a pain, and doing so especially when you have less than an hour between connecting trains makes life rather painful. We picked up 4 12inch subs, boarding our next train to Copenhagan in Denmark. Having side seats to sit on, we feasted on our lunch, chatting about. Life seems so much different from the craze of first year, the work during internship and the good old CA Days.

Time passed quickly and we changed trains yet again from Copenhagan, boarding a train to Munich. We had made a countless changes over the last 10 days of our travel schedule, and in fact, we hardly had a concrete return trip planned before leaving. Just this morning, the plan was to spend a day at Goteberg, spend the night in a hostel and move through Sweden into France. Suddenly, we were reaching Germany the same night, and with completely different plans.

We now planned to see what all the fuss about the Oktoberfest was about, and we planned to do so from the heart of Bavarian Germany itself- Munich. Our train was to leave Copenhagen at 6.53 and the journey included an 8 kilometre journey under the sea! Next morning, Munich. Some more sleep beckons, as I write this staring at a 60 year old woman reading the New York Times with a 110 litre backpack (almost as big as me!) and her tent, sleeping bag propped against her. Wow. And night.

Today was a day when I was enveloped by nature.

Seldom does a day start immediately after the previous one ended, and here, by 6.30 am, we were boarding the train to Bergen, heading to Myrdal, from where we were to begin our fjord cruise.

Oslo to Bergen had been described by people we knew as the most scenic journey by train we would witness in all of Europe. And how!

Having slept until around 10, catching up on lost sleep, I woke up to scenes lifted straight from an LOTR description. Steep black mountains jutting out of the plains, its sides lined with trees in autumn bloom - every possible shade of yellow and green. The hills had a crystal clear river flowing by its side all through. Waking up to a sight like that, my first impression was that of an enormous giant, wearing a dark green fleece coat and a silver sheath by his side. The river meandered, filled to the brim, and looked icy to the touch.

A few miles on and the landscape completely changed, and effect was quite dramatic. In a few minutes, we were passing by snow capped mountains, with glacial river streams falling down by the sides. Thousands of water cascades fell by all sides, the effect mesmerizing.

The train chook-chooked away between crystal blue lakes, their frigid water lapping the banks as glacial cascades fell into them. To top it all, the person sitting next to us was the president of the Bergen-Oslo rail link himself, who spoke fondly of having recently celebrated the 100th year of operating the line, and was curious as to how we felt watching what we are. He gave us a beautiful rail calendar, a souvenir that is bound to create a lot of in-fighting unless we reach an amicable solution, that marked the Bergen-Oslo line through the seasons - the bright green spring from may, the orange hues and waterfalls of September, the frigid sheath of ice of January, the wonderful melting snow of April.

Opening the emergency windows, bitter cold wind streamed in as we passed tunnel after tunnel, some miles long, opening to exotic views of cascading waterfalls, snow caps and swiftly flowing rivers. I fell in love. It was absolutely paradise.

It soon started drizzling as we reached Myrdal- a little town straight out of a fantasy novel. A wood log cabin and a tiny cafe marked the station, and our dark green train from Myrdal to Flam stood on the other platform. Around us, rain drizzled down gently amidst bright green trees.

Buying tickets to our next line, this scenic one hour journey from Myrdal to Flam has been voted the most scenic train journey ever. An engineering marvel, it descended 800 metres to sea level cross a steep gradient and 20 tunnels, the largest 6 miles long. Wow.

Words are difficult to describe this journey, but here, we passed by truly what Norway was - shifting panoramas of thundering waterfalls and lush green vegetation, with rivers descending into the sea at Flam, Norway’s most exotic fjord cruise.

As the train descended into the valley, it stopped by at scenic spots for the shutter bugs to go crazy, and a stop at the mighty Kjosfossen falls was the hallmark of this journey. Churning down the hill with ferocity, billions of gallons of frothing, icy glacial water thundered down the valley, our train at a brilliant vantage point where the froth hit our faces hard and the mist rising up the hill drenched everything in sight. It was a sight to behold.

We passed by quaint towns with black roofed houses and waterfall after waterfall, eventually landing down to sea level at Flam. Here, the Sognefjord began, sea water coming back many hundreds of miles into deep crevices, with towering black mountains on both sides. Our cruise ship, the Fjord1 was to flow between this scenic journey to Gudvangen.

Standing on the deck, with icy cold wind blowing across my face and through my hair, this I felt was a moment that could not even be captured on film. And towering hills on both sides, with hundred of tiny rivulets crashing into the sea from the mile metre high mountains. You really must visit this someday.

Passing through incredibly narrow gorges through the canyon-like fjords, we were in Nærøfjord, the deepest arm of this fjord and perhaps the most dramatic one. We also came across the Undredal chapel, Scandinavia's tiniest church, which was a pleasure to watch. The serene two hour journey lulled me to a short nap in between, after which I went to the front deck, standing in the frigid cold air as evening bent on, munching on bread and carrot. Carrots are probably the most nutritious thing I’m eating on this journey.

Docking at Gudvangen, and out of Norwegian kroner for the next leg, the kind bus driver allowed us to get in, as we promised to pay her at Voss. It's the first time I’ve witnessed a lady driving a bus, and this Stalheimskleiva road trip twisted and turned through an incredibly narrow road offering views of several waterfalls. She drove with amazing dexterity! I was tired, and the one hour trip far too soothing to the eye, and nearly everyone on the bus fell asleep.

Landing at Voss and paying her in NKr and thanking her profusely, we walked around Voss, visiting the camping site (too expensive!). It was a beautiful town, a huge lake by its side, snow capped peaks around it and gentle rain falling down. We wanted to camp here for the night, but too expensive for us, we headed on the next train from Voss to Bergen, had a dinner there of Cup Noodles, “jugad-ing” boiling water from our store paying 2 kroner for a cup, had noodle sandwich and boarded the train back to Oslo at 11pm.

Technical problems meant that we had to switch from the train to a bus at Voss at 1 am in the night, and back to train at 4am, but little did it matter cause I was sleeping far too quickly and far too peacefully in practically seconds. There are even rumours that the buses were ferried across a lake in the night, but I was too dead tired to figure that bit out.


Another day gone by, and inevitably, every journey is now 24 hours of action packed adventure, and not just the customary 18. Next stop, Oslo. Phew.

Today. Extraordinary. That's the only word I can think of. Outrageous Oslo.

Oslo is a capital that possibly is the smallest capital city in the world. And for the capital of one of the most visited countries in the world, it has surprisingly little to offer. Perhaps not.

We started the day at Stockholm. This is my 7 countries so far in roughly 10 days. Germany, France, Belgium, Finland, Sweden, Norway and Denmark. And to think I was content and happy with the thought of being in India before IIMA happened. And staying here in Europe, I just realized how much I love India!

Starting at Stockholm, we left Stockholm University early morning to the station, again avoiding tickets and even picking up complementary bags offered by a book exhibition. The bags are going to be immense help here, and we get a banana and juices (a single banana costs 50 bucks in Scandinavian Europe. 200ml of Fruit juice is around 70 bucks). Living on the shoestring that we are, having some part of our breakfast sponsored made us think, wow, and a nice start to the day.

We board the Intercity Express, using our Eurail passes and flowing into Norway. And how. The entire 6 hour journey was dotted with at least a 1000 lakes, beautiful serene lakes, crystal clear water, flanked by tall windswept pine trees, the sun shimmering on the water. And the train dotted and curved alongside these lakes, until a mighty river came along that we followed for the rest of our journey. And to top it all, beautiful black tiled sloping roof houses dotted the countryside; the houses often nestled deep in the trees or on the lake banks.

We reached Oslo at 2.30p.m, did some painful conversions to Norwegian Kroner and finally landed up at the tourist information centre, picking up our customary maps.

The Oslo journey was to be completely on foot. Few capitals can boast of having a glorious medieval history, a sea shore and mountains dotting it all side like Oslo. We first hopped over to the adjoining Opera House, a marble and metal structure, shimmering in the blazing autumn sun. Cold wind blew across the adjoining sea, and the sloped terrace offered excellent vantage points of the city.

Hungry now, we began our walk to this place called Blitz. This neo-activist place was something we were totally unprepared for.

For starters, some facts- Oslo is the most expensive city on Earth, so claim the statistics. We needed food. Vegetarian food. And our travel guide recommended this place, Blitz.

Going to the road where this was supposed to be, we hardly could find the place. A bit of searching, a bit of asking later, we figured it was this totally unmarked white building with some graffiti on its walls. Entering, I encountered the weirdest people ever. Punk rock stars, tattooed arms, a million piercings and outrageous green and pink hair, they told us they were about to protest against the establishment in 15 minutes, so we should hurry with the cafe. They wanted us to join them- apparently a Pakistani national had been arrested. This only vegetarian cafe offered sandwiches, bread, coffee and juice at steal away prices- entirely volunteer run, they were now waiting to leave for the protest, drums and placards in hand.

Watching the goth punk people, we were half scared, thoroughly amused, and our stomachs partly full, we left to the city palace, admiring the armed guards patrol the area. Beautifully uniformed and walking in absolute sync, their batons and feathered caps, their black uniforms and white stripes immediately commanded respect.

The early evening atmosphere was rather insipid, with few people on the streets, no activity absolutely. What this gave us was little to observe except cars- from Saabs to Citroen, Volvo to Audi, and good old Mercedes, always designated to being a taxi here, as we walked along the roads from the City Palace to a landmark garden.

We next headed out to Vigeland's Sculpture Park, a landscaped park with pseudo erotic male, female and child sculptures depicting the various phases of life. It really was striking, watching those stone sculptures in fantastic poses against lush green trees, superb gardens and a lake passing underneath. We came across a huge tower of human bodies them, beautifully intertwined, flanked with humans in various postures- depicting, as I saw it, grace, power, solitude and the cycle of life. With the evening sun glowing on one side of the tower, the effect of light and shadows on the sculptures was mesmerizing. It's difficult to describe a moment when you just stand and stare in awe at human figures so beautifully carved. I stood there for several minutes, lost in thought, before proceeding to explore the rest of the garden, comfortably watching a gang of skateboarders performing stunts with the sun setting as a backdrop.

Early evening brought with it a cold chilly weather, and as always, hunger. We hunted for an Indian Restaurant- encountering several - Gandhi's India, Krishna's Cuisine and Gateway of India. Exorbitantly priced, we moved on to McD'S, unable to find a Subway, munching on cheese burgers. It was a bland dinner, but until we get to Paris, it satisfies. On an average, we are doing walking tours of European cities at the rate of at least 15 kilometres a day.

We walked, comfortably getting lost in the streets of Oslo. And the atmosphere of the city had changed in its entirety. Cars zipped by on roads, pretty pretty women wore their Friday night fineries heading to the nearest clubs, the buildings were wonderfully lit, and the posh shopping streets seemed alive.

Boisterous young chaps hung around pubs, and we could hardly believe it was the same city we were walking in in the morning. Street music rung through the roads - violens, flutes, even a tabla. Love was in the air, everywhere.

We stopped by often, breathing in the atmosphere of this new city.

At 9.30, we walked over to the royal castle, closed sometime earlier, which looked quite eerie in its solitude and strong halogens lights creating a wonderful collage of lights and shadows. As we loitered around, two royal guards found us, and told us we were not supposed to be there (I was waving a flashlight reading castle sign boards). They actually gave us a full escort to the gate, almost giving us a sense of royalty, with their heels clicking in unison and their hands swinging in tandem. Never once would I have imagined being escorted (out, but what the heck) by the guards of HM! Never.

We walked on exploring, tiring ourselves out. Finally heading to the station, where we would be spending the night in peace, waking up for a 6.30 train to the fjords.

I found internet access at the station, and made good use of it.

But little did we know this would the most exciting European night we had as yet experienced.

At 1.30 a.m., an announcement rung that the station would now close and open again at 4.30 a.m. cursing under our breath, we asked the Politi (police) where we were to spend the night. He gladly suggested the streets!

Outside, on the streets, the three of us contemplated several options. The stairs and the benches around the station were far too cold, with an icy gust blowing across. Realizing the open space around the station was far too open; we realized the only other option at that hour of the night was to spend the rest of the 3 hours walking the streets of Oslo.

And we were in such a shock. The only street that was alive was full of punk BOYS and girls, sporting weird tattoos, hairdos and terribly drunk. The cold hit us hard, and if things couldn't get worse, some kind of a police case occurred right where we were standing. Few cafes were open, the ones that were seemed too shady. And the only road that wasn't deserted was.. it was lined with hookers.

In retrospect, and to be honest, we were scared. 3 hours in an unknown city with what seemed like an aggressive crowd can never be funny.

We needed a refuge, and shuttled between the station and that road, and finally decided we were going to spend the night in... hold your breath, a Seven Eleven(7-11). We explained our situation for this 24 hour open store, and he allowed us to stay the night there. The problem was there were no chairs, the store was the size of an average bedroom, and it was stacked with goods. It was the safest place we could find that night, and as things go, it was popular with the punks too.

From then on, it got amusing. Not one character we saw seemed what may be described as normal- gay youth in a merry mood, hookers with their customers, policemen, and drunk men, they all dropped in and out. And the three of us, standing in one corner of the store, blessed the cashier attendant for allowing us that comfort of the store- it was warm, and I had internet. And terrible company.

Standing continuously for 3 hours, we were tired, miserable and bored. We ran for our lives to station the moment the clock struck 4.15 am, thanking the cashier for his asylum.

Dead tired, we crashed at the station, the other two sleeping and I writing this.

This was an experience liked no other.

Thinking back, there was nothing at all to be scared off, we were three guys, not once did anyone threaten us or was aggressive, cops were all around us because we were at the scene of a crime, the we were at least warm. Still, I knew I would never want to experience this again, doing all this in a totally unknown city, with almost no one you could rely upon; it scared us at one point.

I guess it is all part of the great European experience. It is 6.30 now, the train to Myrdal is about to leave.

Love, peace, tranquillity, and stay warm.