a curious uni kid takes on 'merica: If only

Equipped with my Eurail pass in hand I just made the train that was heading to Zagreb, Croatia in time. I jumped aboard, feeling pretty chuffed with myself. After countless train mistakes over the years, I am now #1 expert on Eurail train travel (you’ll realise the irony in what I’m about to say after you’ve finished reading the whole post); no more sitting in the wrong class, being yelled at, catching the wrong train, being yelled at, no more filling out my pass wrong, being yelled at, getting the wrong ticket, being yelled at, and repeat. The train journey out of Munich was spectacular, we headed through Carinthia in Austria, which consisted of a winding journey through the Alps, watching clear turquoise lakes pass and small country villages with smoke chuffing from their chimneys. When it’s chilly and snowy outside and you’re warm and cosy inside, watching the Austrian landscape whizz before you, things are rather dandy.

But alas my dear friends, that’s where things went from being dandy to very much the opposite. As much as it pains me to write this, I have a *facepalm* story to tell.

Five or so hours in to my journey, I popped over to the restaurant on board to get some top quality Viennese food. I was having a jolly time, enjoying the best item on the menu and was flicking through a magazine with the latest Austrian goss. I finished up, threw money down on the table like a boss, and tottered on out of there.

I walked through all the carriages, back to mine, but realised I had reached the end of the train. So figuring I had walked the wrong way, I trekked back the other way. It was only when I reached the opposite end of the train without finding my luggage that I figured either this was either a) a dream or b) a conspiracy. I asked one of the most helpful ticket collectors, informing him of the ridiculous situation I have found myself in, and with a smile told him I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for why my luggage, passport, Eurail pass, laptop, camera, coat and absolutely everything I own apart from my wallet in my hand was missing. It was then he informed me that the train had indeed split in half at the last station, and the other three carriages had gone to Zagreb (with my luggage) whilst I was, as it seemed, standing here talking to him on a carriage that had well and truly stayed in Austria.

Upon realisation of this news, I found myself looking at him curiously for a moment, and after allowing for any errors in my language comprehension, and retracing his words, I started laughing. I couldn’t stop for a little while, still giggling as he escorted me off the train.

It was a classic case of my mixed-emotions-in-shock-don’t-know-how-to-register.

I stopped laughing as soon as I stepped off the train, let me assure you. I was trying to grapple with the fact that I was now somewhere in Austria, standing on a train platform in the middle of winter, it was dark, there was no one around, I had no ticket, no passport and no winter coat and my luggage had just yolo-ed it to Croatia. Then I realised it was negative degrees and I was indeed shivering.

The staff manager called a buddy on the other half of the train and I was to meet him in Dobova, Slovenia, in 3 hours. It was by now around 6.30pm. Luckily this bloke had managed to find my luggage (thank heavens). So again, luckily, I sat at the station in the cold, hoping that when I arrived I could a) find him b) get my things back and c) that nothing had been stolen. My immediate thought was ‘find a phone, get to an Embassy’ because I am not naïve as to how valuable an Australian passport can be. But then it dawned on me that my cell was dead, and the paperwork containing phone numbers was lost with my luggage. The train station was empty and even if I had change, I wouldn’t even know who to call. So I was left to ponder my stupidity, wondering if only I had paid more attention to the train announcements instead of watching The Help (good movie), if only I hadn’t savoured every bite of my schnitzel as much I would have been out sooner, and if only I had taken my small backpack with me, and if only I had picked up a sandwich at the bakery before I left I wouldn’t have gone three carriages down, and if only I had napped for a little longer to warn off hunger I would stayed with my stuff and if only if only if only…

Still, although things were looking quite grim I didn’t so much as show one sign of a squeaky tear, but merely remained calm, what-I-like-to-think, clear headed and somewhat hopeful.

Fast forward 3 hours and I’m waiting on (yet again) another snowy platform in Slovenia, on my own, whilst the winter fog surrounded me and chilled me to my core. I was having doubts this guy was going to come, but after a little while a looming figure appeared out of the shadows and luckily he had my things. Though – not all my things. I was reunited with my small backpack and checked to find the most important things; passport, Eurail, camera and laptop all there thanked him profusely, enquired about my big pack, which he denied knowing about. Still, my heart leapt with gratitude. With a curt ‘Auf Weidersehen’ he was gone, suggesting I try to get another train to Croatia tonight and see if they picked it up at the end. Braving a smile I thanked him for his suggestion and headed to the departure board to see that the last train to Zagreb left at 10.12pm, and it was now 10.30. There was nowhere else to go, I was alone in the dark mistiness of Slovenia, miles away from where I was supposed to be, it was freezing. I’d like to emphasise the freezing part here. Again, pushing all thoughts about curling up in the foetal position and having a breakdown aside, I peered out into the cold night. No one. Nothing. Foggy nothingness. Of course, information was closed and there wasn’t a soul in sight. With not much else to do, I headed to the bathrooms, preparing to lock myself in and spend the night on the train station floor. To my delight I found the radiator in there to be working, so at least I could be warm. The next train was at around 8am, that was only 9 or so hours away. I rustled though my pack, thankful to find some 6 or so apples and bananas I had picked up at a fresh fruit market in Munich, and settled down for dinner (well, technically second dinner, but whatever). I was halfway through when the situation sunk in a little and I figured that there’s gotta be something out there, so I packed up (11pm by now) and wrapping my arms around myself for warmth braved the Slovenian winter. I tried to push notions of Slenderman hiding in the dark out of my mind. I walked one way…for only five minutes until I was numb with cold, and considered going back. It sounds like something out of a movie but I kid you not I was seriously about to turn around when I saw the words ‘HOTEL’ illuminated by a neon sign a couple hundred meters away. It just appeared. The fog was something I have never seen before. In the middle of the country, we weren’t in the city or surrounded by houses or convenience stores. There was just black nothingness, no cars, no people, no illuminated shop windows, scarcely street lights, can’t-see-something-till-it’s-right-before-you kinda fog. If the sign wasn’t neon and quite large, I wouldn’t have seen it. And by golly it’s lucky I did. I was hopeful, I was shaking and probably still in shock and I still had no idea where I was but I was holding on to that hotel sign. Like I was Joseph and it was the star guiding me to shelter, I started running.

20 minutes later I was in a hot shower (yay). Dressing again in the clothes I had worn that day, I collapsed into bed (a bed!) grateful that this had worked out and I wasn’t crouching on the train station floor like a poor sod. And despite the fact that things were, in actual fact ok for the moment, I had difficulty pushing those ‘if only’ thoughts out of my mind, the ‘if onlys’ that would have ensured this whole little entourage played out differently.

If only – the most two useless words in the English language.