Prepare for a long-winded story, which will (hopefully) prove to be worth while.
Last week I left Italy for Switzerland. I did the responsible thing any seasoned traveller would do (read: anyone who has endured the stresses of nearly missing their train). I booked and reserved a place on a train two days prior to my departure. I even decided to take the 6:59 (that's A.M.) train so a to limit my connections and transfers later that day.
All was well and it was the most relaxed and enjoyable train ride thus far. That is until about half was into my journey when I boarded the second train. It turned out there were two trains leaving for Switzerland from that same station at the exact same time as indicated on my ticket. One was to Zurich, and the other (the one I planned to take) was to Interlaken.
(Quick Swiss Geography Lesson:
Zurich = Northern Switzerland
Interlaken = Central
Despite the relatively small size of the country itself, there are these things called mountains, which are quite predominant, and make travel about as indirect as possible).
This is how I found myself on a train headed about as far possible in the opposite direction from where I wanted to go. Call me crazy, but I panicked. I would have bawled my eyes out had I not been in a compartment with three elderly Italians, and one Venezuelan to whom I had no interest in trying to explain my plight. Instead my stomach turned to a rock making me want to be ill (which is my trained response to stressful stimuli, of which I considered this situation to be).
About two hours into my five hour detour I decided there was nothing I could do to make this situation any different. I tried to enjoy the remainder of what turned out to be, in all likelihood, one of the most beautiful train rides on earth. (Ironically enough I had spent countless hours in my planning trying to figure out how I could train through the alps at some point! Ha).
Upon arrival in Zurich I jumped off the train onto the crowded platform and ran (backpack and all) to the next train which left 8 minutes later. I cannot even tell you how wonderful it felt to sit down in that seat, knowing I was finally on my way in the right direction!
Okay, now for the exciting part… during the next leg of my journey, out of the moving train window I happened to catch a sign fly by that seemed to read “Hondrich”. Now, I knew there was a tiny town called “Honderich” in Switzerland, but I had no idea where it was, nor did I intend to spend anytime trying to find it. Making note of the sign, I was excited but thought nothing more of it. That is until the other day when I had time, energy and train passes to spare, when I decided to go out in search of it.
I found it! I found Hondrich Switzerland! Allow me to explain something. Honderich is an obscure name both in its spelling and pronunciation, so much so that for me to find the small village was uncanny. Those of you with the name Victoria or Edward have lots of opportunity to see your name on signs, and thus will likely not share in my excitement. But that is fine… I was THRILLED!!!
Upon finding this village I did what anyone in my place would do, and spent half an hour tracking down and photographing every sign in the village. (Including this photo below, which took me entirely too long to take as my arm kept shaking rendering the sign blurry).
My exploration led me to a general store (which I later found out was the only store in Hondrich), where I excitedly presented my passport to the shopkeeper to demonstrate the shared name between her town and my family. She laughed, as she had never heard anyone with the last name before and gave me a postcard with a picture of the village on it. I got a couple pictures with her, and a cake in her display with Hondrich iced on top alongside a cow (how fitting!). And I went merrily on my way shaking my head and laughing at how life continues to surprise me.
No comments:
Post a Comment