Over the border

At 7 p.m. on July 8^th, I found myself in the Gould’s courtyard, Vera Bradley duffel in tow. Forty or so Miami students had signed up to go to Munich, Germany for the weekend, led by our trusted friend/guide André. As our first group journey without true “guardian” supervision, we were all excited to enjoy time getting to know each other without the judgmental eyes and ears of adults. Earlier in the day, my favorite professor (and also a friend) Annie had mentioned that Italy’s train workers were going on strike at 9 p.m. Of course, our Munich train was scheduled to leave at 9:49 p.m. All of us were nervous during the ten-minute walk to the station—we had no idea if all trains or only local trains would be affected. We walk in to the biglietteria to validate our tickets sweating bullets (a mix of nerves and the hellish heat found in this no A/C nation). Of 20 or so trains departing that evening, ours was one of two that was still scheduled to leave. Breathing a sigh of relief, I walked to the platform with the group and sat on the tiled floor with my friends.

 

I had no idea how hectic boarding a train would be. When Train # 234 pulled into the station, it was utter chaos. Thankfully, André had asked us to split up into groups of six—there would be three people per room reservation, and each group was given two rooms. Karen, Lauren, Megan, Jen, Ben and I jostled our way to our train car dragging luggage, snack bags, backpacks and purses (for the girls, at least) with us. Finding our rooms, we were pleasantly surprised to find ourselves in second class: the rooms had sinks, towels, water bottles, and fluffy bed linens. Jen, Ben and I ended up in one room, and as we got organized, the train attendant—in her little navy uniform—stopped by to collect our passes.

“Passports, reservations and passes, please,” she asked in a faintly German accent. Looking up from her clipboard, she sees Ben and asks, “Is there a teacher here?”

At this point I should have said no, since Ben isn’t exactly a teacher, but since his back was turned (and the opportunity was too good to pass up), I said, “Yes! He is our teacher.”

She was positively delighted, and told Ben to meet her at the end of the hall in a few minutes. After a playful berating from Ben for sacrificing him to the attendant, Jen decided to go ahead and climb into her bunk. All was going well with that venture until the ladder came loose. Jen—who was about six feet off the floor at this point—came crashing down. Thankfully, Ben (who had given me some items to hold for a second) had his hands free, and managed to catch her with two parts hand and one part face; yep, Jen’s derriere landed smack dab on Ben’s face. After triple checking she was all right, the group of us started laughing hysterically. Katie, Amy, and some others were drawn to our cabin from the noise, and we ended up hanging out eating mixed nuts that Ben supplied (that created quite a few inappropriate jokes) until way later than we should have.

An unceremonious wake-up buzzer at 5 a.m. had me groping for the ‘Off’ switch. Rolling over, I looked out of the crack in the blackout shade. My eyes found grey-blue mountains backlit by early morning sunshine, and fields sparkling with dew through a thin veil of fog. Wanting to share the view, I opened the shade finally waking Ben thoroughly (apparently the buzzer hadn't done the job). Thankfully, the view was impressive enough to cause instant forgiveness.

“Can’t beat that, can you?” he said.

“No, you really can’t,” I replied, eyes glued to the scenery. 

To Be Continued.... (too much homework to do!)