So remember back in December, when I went up to DC for my visa appointment, missed my train, and kind of freaked out before eventually finding my way back to Charlottesville? My parents told me then that this was a learning experience, and if it happened in Europe I would know what to do. Well, it happened it Europe, except this time I got on the wrong train, and I reacted roughly the same way. I'm not especially proud of myself right now, but I made it safely to Lauran's apartment in Hoofddorp, so I guess no harm was done in the long run.
Here is what happened: the first leg of the journey went smoothly. I got to the train station in Lille with plenty of time, I had my tickets, and I was on the train to Antwerp as soon as they announced the gate. I was actually sort of enjoying myself; one of my neighbors happened to be on the train with me, and we talked (she in French, me in English, and we understood each other) until her stop. It was snowing, which made everything really pretty outside. I started reading Sisterhood Everlasting, the new Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants book, on my iPod, and ate some madeleines. Things were nice. Then I happened to check the time and realized my train was going to be late. I already had a very short layover in Antwerp, and I started to feel quite anxious. By the time we pulling into Antwerpen Centraal, my stop, I had maybe one minute to get to my next train. This was complicated by the fact that everything was in Dutch, including the announcements on the train. I glanced at what I thought was the departures board, and saw a train listing for Amsterdam at correct time. I didn't think twice about it; I just ran for the gate, and when a Thalys train appeared, I got on it. The cars were not numbered very well, however, so I decided to ask a conductor (in French, not my brightest idea) to show me where to go. The second she saw my ticket, she told me I had gotten on the wrong train, and explained where I should get off and change. This entire conversation was in her Dutch-accented French, and I was panicking, so I didn't really understand what was going on.
Of course, my phone was nearly dead because I hadn't given it enough time to charge earlier, and I had forgotten to write Lauran's number down before I left. I ended up frantically calling my mom and asking her to get on my Facebook and find the number. I had forgotten that my Facebook is in French, which my mom doesn't speak, and I was terrified (and yes, crying) about my mistake. She had to tell me the phone number a few times over before I got it down. I finally got in touch with Lauran and explained the situation; then the same conductor came and explained the directions to me in English, which made me feel somewhat sheepish for not trying my native language in the first place. As it turns out, I had gotten on a train to Essen, Germany. In Essen, I waited on the platform for a train to Rosendal, where I could find a train to Amsterdam. Apart from having to tell myself out loud, several times, that I was going to be okay and for goodness' sake stop crying, I made it to Rosendal without a hitch and boarded a train to Amsterdam within ten minutes. Some of the passengers there spoke English, and luckily no one ever checked my ticket, so I didn't have to explain the situation to a disgruntled conductor. I successfully got on a smaller train to Schiphol airport, which is closer to Lauran's apartment, and half an hour later she picked me up and we drove back to her place in the snow. As I told my mom on Skype later, I was pretty ashamed of how things turned out, but hopefully next time (fingers crossed there won't be a next time), I'll remember to a) keep my head, and b) speak English to the conductors. Anyway, I'm here, and that's the most important thing.
Lauran's apartment is beautiful and her cat is so friendly. She was very understanding about the whole situation, and didn't mind fixing a plate and some tea for me at eleven o'clock, which is about the time we made it to her place. Everything is actually quite pretty with all the snow, and I'm looking forward to Amsterdam tomorrow. Here's hoping the next post will be much more cheerful than this one!
