9 January 1977 - Sunday
This part is written on the train between Luxembourg and Stuttgart, right now near Heidelberg. Another late start this morning. Slightly rainy, even some snow. Ate late in the hotel restaurant. We wanted breakfast but it was after 12:00 so we ate an expensive lunch, which took a good bit of time (soup, sausage, ham). The manager did not object to letting us check out a little late (after 1:00). [1]We got our bags out, paid our bill (960 francs), got the woman the desk to call a taxi, and reached for the rail terminal (Gore Centrale). Taxi was 100 francs (I gave him 120).
Not knowing what to do next, I went into the information center and found out we could catch the 2:07 to Trier if we hurried, but we couldn’t check our baggage (no time). It was now 1:58 at best. The clerk there activated the Eurail passes (dated them 09.01.77 & 23.01.77) and we started through the ticket gate. Alice and I had to lift the baggage cart (with three suitcases) over the low rail between the ticket booths. We then raced outside, not knowing which train went where. I asked a conductor, who pointed out the trains it was at least 100 meters ahead, and the pavement ran out. We made it, with help from a conductor, just as the train pulled out. Our first train ride.
There was no one else on the 1st class car. The same conductor came by and offered Susanna an egg (hard boiled); we ate it. I then realized that we had only six minutes of scheduled time to get off the Trier train and onto the Stuttgart one. If we missed it, we would simply have to go later, or somewhere else.
This train stopped at every little town. At Wasserbillig we crossed the Moselle into Germany. A customs agent got on at Wasserbillig & crossed with the train. When he came to us, he simply looked at our passports and nothing more.
Our impressions (at least my impressions) of Luxembourg are mostly good. After a difficult first night in the Hotel de l’Avenue everything began to look up, even though the weather never did improve and still hasn’t improved. One interesting observation is the language. Luxembourgese
is a dialect of French which has a heavy German vocabulary. People who know French or German can’t get along with those skills very well unless the native knows some English. The written language is all French (signs, newspapers, etc). In other parts of Luxembourg, such as Vianden, the dialect differs enough to make the language difficult even for the Marxes to communicate in.
Germany
Our train was for Trier only, which is just across the Moselle from Luxembourg. When we got there we had only five minutes to make the connection and the Stuttgart train (leaving at 3:05, was across the tracks; we had to go downstairs and then up again. Fortunately, the conductor (with the eggs) helped by carrying two suitcases across the tracks while we went under. We made it.
The Stuttgart train was an express and did not stop often. It was also more crowded. The most vacant looking compartment was occupied by a young woman who turned out to be American, a member of a band (singer and percussions) who was en route to Kaiserslautern. She did not have a first-class ticket and stood in the hallway each time the conductor came by. She managed to stay in 1st class until her stop. We never learned her name. At Ludwigshafen (on the Rhine) a young man got on; he read most of the time and never spoke until the end, when I learned that he spoke English quite well. He moved out when a young couple needed room for a baby carriage and baby (named Daniel).
We got everything off the train at Stuttgart and set all of our baggage down while Susanna and I went to look for the Tübingen Train. I discovered and Alice verified that it was to come in on the same track we were standing on. When a train pulled in we loaded on and settled in. The train was scheduled to leave at 8:08; when the second hand reached the top of the clock at 8:08. The train started moving.[2] You can’t be late for German trains, even though, we understand, almost everyone assumes that a stated time means plus 15 minutes. Class schedules, for example, may say 12:00. But everyone assumes that 12:15 is the starting time, unless the time is followed by s.t. (sine tempo), as opposed to c.t. (cum tempo).
We arrived in Tübingen on time (9:12) and Alice managed to flag a taxi after some effort (at least 200 people got off the train here). Our driver spoke no English.
I showed him Greg Jember’s address and he had trouble reading it. But we all got in and headed away. It was a long way, all uphill on Schwabstrasse. We reached the end of the road at 81. The building was dark and seemed to be and office building for architects. I couldn’t find any lights or any open door, but I did find mailboxes. I got some matches from the taxi driver and found Jember’s name. Then I walked all around the building. No doors open-finally, I found a light switch and the driver found call buttons. I pushed Jember’s and his voice came through.
Greg joined us in our search for a hotel. The only one either he or the driver knew was the Hotel Krone. We stopped there (it was already 10:00) and a room was available, but expensive. We took it, then got a meal at the hotel restaurant.
Greg joined us for a beer, then walked home. While it seemed a very long way by car, he claimed that he could get there much quicker by taking a public staircase to the top of the hill.
The driver, said Greg, spoke Schwabisch, a dialect of German that is quite difficult for the speaker of high German to understand. Thus he didn’t get along with the driver much better than we did. (I ended up paying the driver DM 15.-; I couldn’t quite figure the exact amount, but he did us quite a bit of service and stayed with us quite a while. I don’t know why he turned the meter off.) Anyone who says that language is not a problem hasn't traveled in some of the out-of-the-way places we have.
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