On our first solo weekend trip in Europe, Chris and I decided to visit Berlin with eight friends. Everything went smoothly until the third train change. We had about 45 minutes to wait between trains, and our train was late.
The local train ended up coming a minute before our train so we accidentally got on the wrong train, which took us to...Herzogenrath-August-Schmidt-Platz. Our friend Jonathan knew a little German (enough to ask, do you speak English?), so we found a nice lady at the grocery store near the train station who told us the local train we got on makes a loop and would be back at the station in about 30 minutes.
Four hours later, a little after midnight, we made it to Berlin. We were all incredibly exhausted at this point, so we went to the taxi line to get a ride to our hostel. The taxi driver told us the hostel was “200 meters to the right” and refused to take us.
So we walked….and walked….and kept on walking. We ended up stopping at another hotel for directions and found out that the taxi driver was very wrong. The hostel was over a mile and a half away from where we were. As we made our way to the hostel, three men started following us and asked if we were American. Of course, some of the girls in our group shouted “Yes!,” and we had to walk quickly and take random streets to lose them. Thankfully, we lost them and finally made it to the hostel around one in the morning.
Middle of Nowhere, France
Transportation and I just don’t get along (I have about a million strange airplane stories I can share), so I can’t say I was surprised when our train randomly stopped on route from Barcelona, Spain to Marseille, France. We found out that someone in the compartment next to us had a seizure, so the train was stopped to get him medical attention.
For some reason, they decided to stop the route after the man was taken to the hospital, and everyone had to find a new train connection. We knew we were somewhere on the border of Spain and France, so I turned to one of my friends and told her if we were in Spain, we needed her to get us tickets, and if we were in France, I would take care of it. Once we got off the train, we found out we were in France, so I headed to the tiny train station to find out a way to get to Marseille. The next train didn’t leave for a while, so we ended up wandering around the tiny village.
A Nice Butt
Our train connection in Switzerland gave us only five minutes to get from one platform to another (because of a late train), so I was walking up the escalator when I heard two men discussing my butt in Russian behind me (I was the only woman on the escalator at the time, so it was obvious the conversation was about me). Apparently, they thought I had a nice butt and were upset because my backpack was covering up part of it. I wish I wasn’t in a huge hurry because I would have loved to respond back to them in Russian.
I was planning on sharing more stories, but I don’t want to bore y’all with too many words in one day. Stay tuned for part two of my strange European adventures!