Escape from Istanbul – Part III

Istanbul to Stockholm
18th to the 23rd April, 2010

Mother nature roars
Photo credit: Wikimedia commons

It’s finally time for the final installment of our overland adventure to get home from Istanbul. I left you in the red light district of Munich (sorry about that) where we were catching a few much needed zzzs. If you’ve missed the beginning of the story best to head on over to Part I closely followed by Part II and you’ll be all caught up. Awakening way too early and dragging our sorry behinds down to the train station (farewelling a snoozy Maddy whose train was not till 9.00) we frantically searched for a coffee and something to eat.

This turned out to be unnecessary, as when we boarded the train we soon discovered they had food trolleys which patrolled the length of the train. This was really a little too much luxury for us after the bus from hell and we spent long minutes grinning hysterically at each other and the confused looking trolley attendant.

Unfortunately the luxury was not going to last.

We changed trains in Hamburg and had an hour or so to hang around there. All I wanted was to eat a proper meal and I do love German bratwurst. We found a food court where I could indulge in my desire for beer and sausage. Perhaps I ate a little too quickly. Perhaps my stomach had forgotten how to digest real food after subsisting for days on nuts and cookies. Either way I found myself dashing through a labyrinth of corridors that stank of fish searching for an elusive bathroom. Oh the fun.

This was a mistake

Back on the train (endlessly thankful that it had a toilet) we sat down in some unoccupied seats. We had been told emphatically by the conductor that we did not need a seat reservation. In fact it turned out that you could only reserve seats if you were Danish and we were turfed out of our seats by a harried looking school teacher only to be replaced by a huge group of Danish school-children who immediately started running around the carriage and chatting with their friends.

As I write this I realise that I may have started to sound like one of those bitter, old, complaining people. You know, the ones who would call up the school to report that they had seen someone in your school uniform not standing up for a pregnant woman. And then we would all have to listen to the lecture because they didn’t know who had done it. But I am not complaining on behalf of myself. To be honest I didn’t mind sitting on the floor (it was far superior to the bus after all). But seriously, they made a man who must have been at least a hundred toddle out of his seat and sway in the hallway on his walker. They forced out an exhausted looking woman with a baby in tow. I’ve half a mind to call up their school and complain.

This person would probably complain

At this point my mother cracked under the pressure. I say this in the nicest way possible. She had after all, been ill for the entire bus trip. But she completely lost it. Have you ever read the Rime of the Ancient Mariner? Where the old dude is compelled to tell his tale of horror to everyone he meets.

He holds him with his glittering eye–
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years’ child:
The Mariner hath his will.

My mother was rushing about clutching at random people on the carriage, “You have no idea what we’ve been through! We’ve been on a bus for forty hours!”. She fixed them with her glittering eye and they were forced to listen. Let’s just call it the Rime of the Ancient Mother. Hehe… sorry Mummy… you certainly aren’t ancient .

Ancient mariner fun
Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons

The funny thing was that the people on the train clutched back. “We’ve come all the way from Kenya,” they cried clutching with desperate hands, “We’ve come from the Canary islands with three children!”

It was an interesting situation, to be stranded with so many other people, everyone trying to find their way home however they could. I saw the best and worst of people. The old lady who gave up her seat for the even older man with the walker. The selfish school child who wanted two seats so he could stretch out his legs. The lady with the baby who stood the whole trip so that her children could have a seat. The businessman who had only started his journey in Hamburg who snoozed opposite the children never offering the woman a seat.

Finally arriving in Copenhagen we had a very brief connection to make. Grabbing various pieces of luggage and prams we hurried off with the Canary island family in tow. We made it onto the train, wedged into the interstitial space between masses of luggage, almost toppling with every random braking.

Then we were in Malmö once again rushing for the train. It was so long you couldn’t actually see the end around a corner and we started to worry that perhaps carriage 16 did not exist. But there it was, almost empty despite many travellers being told there was no room on the train. We had left behind an Iranian couple who had to make their connecting ferry to Helsinki later that evening because they had been refused a seat. It was pretty depressing to find that there was actually so much space. As I picked my way along the aisle I was startled to find a work colleague sitting in one of the seats nearby.

“Where are you coming from?”

“Montreal, you?”

“Istanbul!”

We clutched at each other Ancient Mariner style fixing each other with beady gazes and sharing our tales of woe. In the seat behind him were a Swedish couple we met an age ago in the smoke-filled haze of the waiting room at Istanbul bus station. They had been whisked off on the other bus, snaking through Serbia and apparently better roads. But here they were and it felt as if everyone who had been stranded was somehow converging on the same train.

Things are looking up

The rest of the trip passed in comfort as my dad, colleague and I camped out in the diner carriage with multiple beers while mummy slept. We were on our way home. No more connections. This was it. After 3 days in Istanbul and countless travel agents and phone calls, 5 hours in a bus station wondering if the bus was actually going to come, 40 hours on a bus with no toilet, 12 hours in the red light district of Munich, 18 hours on the train, 8 countries, 6 passport stamps, 700 euros and about 3700km we finally pulled into Stockholm Central Station in the middle of the night. I was so happy to be there I almost fell to the ground and kissed the dirty train platform Kevin Costner as Robin Hood style.

Glad to be home

I could only find a very small picture but you get the general idea. Luckily, while I was searching I found this awesome bigger picture which I have put in to fill up some space.

Umm... what movie is this Sean?

And that’s the end of my tale. I leave you with this excerpt from the Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Coleridge which I feel sums up the journey.

“There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time!
How glazed each weary eye,

…

The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.

Just kidding. In reality it was an interesting though tough experience. It has definitely made me appreciate the convenience of flying as well as reminded me that mother nature is churning away ready to disrupt our plans without notice (and we thought we just had to worry about strikes). And I certainly will be more careful to read the fine print on my insurance policy in future!

Related posts:

1. Escape from Istanbul – Part II
2. Escape from Istanbul – Part I