Prague to Paris, all in one day.
The train snakes along the winding river, beneath forested hills topped by ancient churches and past quaint little river villages. Up the Valta River and into Germany. From Dresden, across the border, it was onto the high speed rail line, zipping along at 200km through the gentle undulations of fertile farmland. I was in Frankfurt for two hours, not quite enough time to see the sights but enough for a walk around the city. Then the third train for the day to scoot down into France.
After two hours, and just over the French border we stopped. No one knew why. We were in the middle of no where, pulled out alongside a TGV. An hour went by, the last light faded from the sky (it was now after 10:30pm), and then suddenly the train was flossed with people. But from where? Apparently the TGV had broken down and we were rescuing the stranded passengers. When we set off (now very crowded) it was 10:50pm, the time we were due in Paris.
At 12:30am we stopped again in some small town. We must be near Paris. A map revealed however, we had come only Kms from the German border. An LED sign had read for last hour, "we will shortly arrive in Paris."
Adverse situations often bring out the best in people, and everyone in my carriage laughed and joked and talked to each other throughout the night. We were the lucky ones. The people from the other train had to sit in the aisles or stand for hours.
We arrived at 2:40am the next day. According to locals, trains were never, never late on this route so this was an extraordinary event. And of course the Europeans were ready to deal with such extraordinary events. At the station we were met with free meals, water, forms to claim a 50% refund and free taxi vouchers. Then in a logistical feat the French authorities managed to put almost 2000 people onto waiting taxis at 3am and send us all on our way.
No German trains are never late, and when they are, they are very, very sorry.
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| The ICE train at Frankfurt Station |
After two hours, and just over the French border we stopped. No one knew why. We were in the middle of no where, pulled out alongside a TGV. An hour went by, the last light faded from the sky (it was now after 10:30pm), and then suddenly the train was flossed with people. But from where? Apparently the TGV had broken down and we were rescuing the stranded passengers. When we set off (now very crowded) it was 10:50pm, the time we were due in Paris.
At 12:30am we stopped again in some small town. We must be near Paris. A map revealed however, we had come only Kms from the German border. An LED sign had read for last hour, "we will shortly arrive in Paris."
Adverse situations often bring out the best in people, and everyone in my carriage laughed and joked and talked to each other throughout the night. We were the lucky ones. The people from the other train had to sit in the aisles or stand for hours.
We arrived at 2:40am the next day. According to locals, trains were never, never late on this route so this was an extraordinary event. And of course the Europeans were ready to deal with such extraordinary events. At the station we were met with free meals, water, forms to claim a 50% refund and free taxi vouchers. Then in a logistical feat the French authorities managed to put almost 2000 people onto waiting taxis at 3am and send us all on our way.
No German trains are never late, and when they are, they are very, very sorry.
Imagine the cost to Sydney's CityRail if it had to compensate each time a train ran late? Just getting through the apologies would take all day.
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