On the Night Express

Change of plans – I’m in Rome!  Took an overnight train from Salzburg to meet Bess who is arriving early for our Mother-Daughter jaunt. Vienna will have to wait ‘til another time; this will be special.  I’ll tell you, though, the road getting here was fraught with drama. Here’s what happened.

I began my trek last night at 10:00 pm on the Nightjet train which was departing Salzburg, headed for Rome. After boarding, I proceeded to try the door to cabin #55, hoping to enter and make myself comfortable. Then, I began tapping on the door, to no avail. [I later found that the young woman with whom I was to share a room, (there were no private rooms available) had gotten there previously, had locked the door, gotten in bed, put on her headphones and wasn’t letting anyone in. She had not traveled before and seemed anxious, bless her heart].

Eventually, she was roused by the steward. Smiling, I took her hand and introduced myself. Katya was her name. I marveled at how small the space was for the two of us. Could there be two of us here? Together?

Gingerly, I asked if I could move a few of her things to give my suitcase a spot. She seemed oddly surprised but agreed and I began pushing multiple pairs of shoes and potato chip bags under her berth, grabbing the crushed empty plastic water bottles from the floor and finding a spot to park my things.  

She has a shoulder issue and could not take the top bunk, she said. I eyed the ladder, seeing that it was opposite the bed. I’d have to leap once I got to the top. Could I do that? Climbing up to check it out, (an area about half the width of a twin bed) I saw the 6 foot drop down the narrow gap to the floor, with no rails to keep me from rolling off in the night. 

As I sat perched there, a lump developed in my throat and my stomach began to churn. I thought to myself – I’ve handled many difficult things before, but I can’t do this. I just can’t. To keep from falling, I’d have to make myself stay awake. I’m simply too tired for that. 

So, I made my way down the ladder to go discuss things with the steward. He was adamant that the train was full. Nope, no other place for me to lay my head. Full. Not even a chair. None.  

My voice cracked and my eyes welled up as I asked if I could be let off the train at the next stop. That seemed to awaken him. He told me of the lounges in the other train cars; perhaps one would be free. One by one, we made our way through the pneumatic doorways between each car and I followed as he searched and eventually found a 6-seat cabin, inhabited only by one person – a stoic lady – sitting, staring. Here, the steward motioned. I took a seat and said hello as he exited. She didn’t respond. I repeated a happy hello. Still no response. Hmmm. She must be going through something difficult (perhaps). Normally, I might see this as an opportunity of some sort, for her, for me. God only knows. But it was very late tonight; I knew I had to rest.

I went back to say goodbye to Katya. I wished her good travels and rolled my stack of suitcase and tote down the walkway from one car to the next to the next, resigned to my new assignment. But then, a split-second decision!  I audaciously rolled right past Cruella to the next cabins beyond, checking them out. Here’s one! Empty!  I claimed it for my own, closed the door behind me triumphantly, pulled the door curtains and gratefully set up home for the night.  

Popping a melatonin and using clothes for a pillow, things became very cozy as I fell asleep to the rhythmic click click click of the train. Through sleepy eyes from my comfy spot, I could see the stars in the navy sky as the black silhouettes of treetops ran by.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I was awakened by a large light beaming directly on me from outside my window. The train had come to a stop and official looking guys were outside, walking the platform as they shined a searchlight into each cabin window. I grabbed my phone to check our location on my map, seeing that we were on the border, leaving Austria and entering Italy.

Lights flashed once again, bathing me and my whole cabin with light, searching every corner. They were there – so near me – just inches away right on the other side of my window. I laid still as I waited, thinking, wondering, in my sleepy condition. 

In a few minutes, I heard a distant door slide open, slam shut, and heavy footsteps came down the dark corridor of the train. There were voices speaking loudly in Italian. My cabin door slid open quickly and the curtain was suddenly pushed back. A strong beam of light blinded me as I sat up, shielding my eyes with my hand and asking “Hello?”  Two uniformed men peered in, announcing “Don’t worry, Madam, Police. It’s okay,” and then closed both the curtains and the door with one swift thrust as they continued down the hall.

Stunned, I wondered if this were routine or if I should somehow block my cabin door from danger. Even still, I felt a calmness; I am watched over.  I fell back asleep, dreaming though, of the Gestapo.  

This morning I awoke to a steward bringing coffee, along with a bag holding yogurt, rolls and butter. A new day. A clear one. I freshened up and began clicking these photos below to show you.  

Early morning sunrays were flooding over the rooftops we passed. This view is different from my previous train trip, the one from Prague to Salzburg.  

That night is over; this day is fresh and new.  I’m in magnificent Rome, happily sipping this water. (Who takes a photo of a bottle of water??)

Sitting in a plush and handsome wine-red chair in the elegance of our hotel, I await the arrival of my Bess, who is on her way from the airport and should be arriving at any moment.

And there she is!  She enters, they take her bags and welcome her. With her natural flourish, laughing, she runs to me. We hold each other a long time, she with her six-month baby hump, and we giggle with tears as we start this memorable time together.

Love,

Jane