Fun times in Zagreb

It’s rather ironic, isn’t it – that my lost luggage ended up at the very first place I was told it would be, and where the whole adventure started. In Zagreb. It is with some annoyance I remember all the phone calls and emails I endured, only to have been given the wrong information, the wrong lead, the wrong number to call, the wrong person/rail company to point blame at.

Le sigh.

Srsly. Major LE SIGHS going on right now, because, I am, currently in Passau. The rail company in Croatia will not send things abroad to any other country outside its own. So. We have a pickle. I’m sure many of you blissfully ignorant Australians may fall under the trap of what I like to call ‘The Great European Illusion’, which is defined as the presumed thought that one can hop from country to country in an hour, regardless of geographical location. That’s not a criticism, I myself was the worst for it, before I started travelling properly and getting my bearings around the globe. And don’t sit there and think that you didn’t unless you were a) born in Europe or b) lived in Europe for a SIGNIFICANT amount of time. If anybody reading this denies that they’ve fallen victim to the Great European Illusion, then I will come home, - and spit on you. I’m not being judgemental, I am stating a fact. It happens to the best of us. I mean, I fell victim to it yesterday again, and I like to believe that I know a thing or two about the world.

A train from Passau to Zagreb is over 10 hours. Tbh, I didn’t even think that a Eurail intercity train could even go that long. (Surely 5 or 6 hours in the maximum…right?!) But no. That is the pickle. I am now heading only further and further west through Europe, and my backpack (MY BACKPACK!) that I long to hold, touch, caress and unpack, lies very solidly in the East. LE SIGH. Mareike and I had to come up with a plan; and that is;

Caty travels 10 hours to Zagreb.

Picks up backpack.

Comes 10 hours back.

ALL. IN. ONE. DAY/NIGHT.

Yes, that is actually happening.

LE SIGH.

So this morning, my day started at 5.30am. Here’s what is to follow;

Walk to bus stop – 6.10

Bus to station – 6.17

Train to Wels – 6.47

~41 minute layover~

Train to Salzburg (THAT’S RIGHT, I’M BACK HERE) – 8.45

~24 minute layover~

Train to Villach - 10.12

~10 minute layover~

Train to Zagreb – 12.53

Arrive Zagreb- 17.13

GET THE BLOODY BACKPACK

HANG ABOUT IN ZAGREB FOR 4 HOURS

Train to Villach – 21.20

~15 minute layover~

Train to Wels - 1.46

~5 minute layover~

Train to Passau – 6.12

Arrive back in Passau – 7.30

So after a good 25 hours on trains and in layover time, I’ve just spent an entire day and night on trains and in stations, and then I come home to Mareike who’s just woken up and I’m ready for breakfast and the day. LE SIGH.

It’s rather expensive as well, and I need to take a night train, which sucks causee it’s busting the budget a bit…especially considering all the money I had to spend on buying the bare minimum stuff for the last three weeks. And even more frustrating –now I have DOUBLE a lot of things. So instead of 4 pairs of socks – I now have 8 to carry. Instead of 2 pairs of pants, I now have three pairs of jeans, instead of two thermal tops, I now have five. LE SIGH.

This is just me whinging a bit, because I am a couple of hours into the journey and already bored. The countryside is BE-UTE though, heading back into Austria now, and everything is heavily doused in snow, and it’s very picturesque. And you know, I am warm and cosy, and I’m getting my stuff back, and it was my fault in the first place that it was lost. I just hope that nothing goes wrong on the way – that I don’t miss a train, fill out my ticket wrong or sleep too long on the overnight train...because if there was ever one time in the history of alarm-setting that I would sleep through my alarm –it would of course be on the overnight train. Of course that would happen.

I'm actually on the same train on which I lost my luggage in the first place - from Villach to Kalgenfurt WHERE THE TRAIN SPLITS.

Too smart for them this time I am.

For me, Zagreb will always be thought of with a coy smile, the city where hell broke loose when I lost my bag, where I was mistaken for a homeless girl, where I wore a blanket shamelessly around the city, where I drained my bank account to replace things I had lost. Where I spent 25 hours of my life and also drained my bank account once again to travel to, to simply, get off the train, get the bag and go back again. Where that railway man snickered in my face and said that my bag was long gone and that ‘people like me’ really should learn. (HEY, BTW I LEFT MY PHONE NUMBER FOR YOU TO DESPERATELY CALL ME IF ANY SIGN OF MY PACK SHOWED UP YOU SLIME LITTLE SLUG IN A SUIT. THANKS FOR NOTHING YOU WEASEL). Zagreb - where I did my best not to have a breakdown, as I wandered the streets, cold alone and lost. Zagreb – where I am back AGAIN, simply shaking my head at myself for all I’ve been through, completely all through my own doing.

I had drinks with the hostel staff at the hostel I stayed at last time. They all remembered me and asked immediately about my back - they were all so kind and very helpful during those early days where I was a little down in spirits. It was a joyous occasion to celebrate with them, and drinks on them.

But before I sign off, what would you think of me writing in the third person on the blog? A friend sent me a link to a blog of a peer of ours at college in Boston, who writes a rather invigorating blog in which he refers to himself as ‘The Monkey’. It makes for quite an interesting read. And it’s tempting to follow in his footsteps, but I fear many if you might give up on le blog (and me in general) if I start referring to myself in the third person. But still. Ever so tempting.