I am going to Romania. It will be great. But in order to get there, I will take the train and visit a couple of good friends on the way. Beginning in Denmark, after a nice week with my parents, I try to buy an inter rail ticket in Frederikshavn, but you can't do it that way anymore. I have to take the bus to Aalborg and get it there. No problem, except I have forgotten that I have changed bank and I have a new code on my credit card. No customer service on a Saturday, but I manage to find a free Wi-Fi and fish out the four vital digits from the home page of Møre Sparebank just in time to get the train to Berlin and from there to Warsaw and further on to Krakow in the South of Polen.
|Konstancja and Juri in their cool back yard
|So ... how cool is this?
|A lovely couple of friends and an odd ...
|... couple of towers!
Paris is next. Well, after the detour to the Polish capital, where I can not get aboard the train just after midnight, as it is Russian. They are not part of the Interrail-system. I'll have to spend the night on a short wooden bench until the early morning train, then change in Berlin and go on via Frankfurt to Paris.
I have written about the benefits of train travel before. You see the world go by your window while you tend your own business or get new acquaintances. So far, I am particularly charmed by the Polish staff on the trains. Great sense of humour and fine service.
|Perfect. Simply perfect.
|Thanks to the "green" mayor of town.
|This is what tomatoes can look like!
|To me, this is one of the most typical sides of Paris. I love these buildings, and wonder who lives inside...
|It is not hard to make people smile, "even" in paris.
|Pouring the rosé.
|What friends are for... sharing good times as well as the bad. A very good one here!
Thanks to the metro, I arrive comfortly in time for lunch with yet another friend, Kristell, who I know from Oslo. She chooses a bar serving great food on tables outside and order a steak for herself. I prefer a big salad and truly enjoy it with the fresh rosé wine poured chilled into the glasses. It is a feeling of excuberant luxury to sit like this, with no hurry or stress what so ever. I have all the time in the world, and happen to spend a bit of it here, on a pavement served by a wonderful readhead.
Spending one afternoon in Paris sounds somewhat stressful, but if you have seen most of the touristy stuff before, you might decide to pop out of the metro near Trocadero and make a slow stroll along the Seine. Thousands of tourists are good entertainment and some touts try to trick you for money. The sun is shining and life is great. Behind Louvre I find a clock shop where a nice fellow I got to know in the north of Finland last year, works. We have a glass of wine before it is time to return to Gare de l'Est and aim for Germany for the third time this week.
As usual I have no reservation. The train is full. Or so they say. It rarely is, really, so I jump on, and find the restaurant carriage. It is not much of a restaurant, but offers four seats and some floor space. It all turns into a kind of a party. Even the German selling the beer is adding his gute Laune and good spirit, claiming I must buy three bottles as he is short of change. So I do.
|Wanna cross the Atlantic with this Dude and a shipload of Rum? You can!
It has been just fine. Now time for Rumania!