Trains, WorstDayEver

The Joys of Swiss Trains

I've heard many good things about Swiss trains. They're speedy, they're quiet, they're clean, they're Easy. This last one is the one I had a little problem with upon my arrival to Switzerland.

I'd been told that "Oh, the trains are easy, you'll figure it out, don't worry about it". So, in the Zuirch airport I had the upmost confidence in my ability to navigate the trains. Oh, words can barely explain how wrong I was.

I in line at the ticket window, hoping that the window clerk could help explain where I should catch the train and at what time. Unfortunately I was spirited away by a man in a bright yellow reflective jacket. He took me over to an automatic ticket machine, punched in my destination, took my money, handed me a few coins, an inexplicable square of paper then said something in German and walked away.

The ticket the man gave me said "Delemont, Olten-Basel" and below that was a string if incomprehensible numbers. No platform, no time, nothing. If I'd known then what I know now: I would have walked up to the large time schedule and found the track number and arrival time for the Olten-Basel train and had a straight connection. But no, I didn't realize what that big blue board with the rotating words and numbers meant so I went for the first escalator I saw (which also meant conquering my fear of riding the escalator with the luggage trolly--it's true, you CAN do it, and they WON'T fall on you or your neighbor. But it only works in Switzerland, don't try that elsewhere). I took the escalator down and started wandering around on the platforms.

By dumb luck, I stumbled upon a train that said "Biel-Bern". That sounded right to me--I remembered Laura saying she needed to catch a train to Biel. So I got on it. With my three bags, I was an embarrassing American. I was much to tired to care though. I was in a big rush to throw all my luggage on the train--up the 18 flights of stairs (okay, three small stairs but it might as well have been the steps to the top of the Washington Monument)-- because I've been conditioned to irregular American trains that will leave with your leg stuck in the door if you happen to be so unfortunate. Once I'd thrown my bags aboard and fallen into a seat I must have arranged my facial features just right to display my pathetic disorientation and a nice older couple offered to help me. I told them I was trying to get to Delemont and asked if I was on the right train. In not so many words and lots of hand-waving they said "oooh, I don't think so: but you can get off at the next stop". At least I was headed in the right direction.

At the next stop, Olten, the couple helped me to my next platform and were gone. When the next train came I was feeling a bit more like I may survive the journey--until I saw the stairs I had to summit. These were steeper and more narrow than before. I was still afraid of being left behind with one of my suitcases out the door so I hurried to get my things on the train. I had about 120 pounds of luggage (lotion! bike stuff! Laura's Stuff, I blame her) to hoist. I strapped my backpack on, flung myself and my small suitcase up the steps and then thought that it would be easy to swing my large bag up while standing on the second-to-top step. The bag was about half-way there when I lost my balance and toppled over. Yes. that's right, my backpack strapped on my feet flailing out the train door and my large bag smashing to the ground. I scrambled to unbuckle my backpack and stand. I put my head out the door and looked down, the people on the platform had horrified expressions and then began laughing. Worst. Day. Ever.

A nice passerby helped me get my large bag on to the train and I kicked my backpack along the floor until I found a seat to hide in. The Swiss are so nice and polite--not many of them stared at me for longer than a few seconds. I decided that if the train at my next stop (Basel) also had stairs that I would just quit and wait for someone to collect me.

Basel's train had no stairs and thus I live to tell this tale.