Angry the German

It has been quite some time since i have posted anything but in my defense there has been a lack of internet over the past two weeks. This will be he first in a short series of installments.

Leaving Amsterdam seemed straightforward enough on paper, I catch an over night train to Copenhagen that would take the best part of 14 hours and deposit me in the heart of Copenhagen. I left my companions for this intrepid solo leg of the journey an hour earlier than required, just to make sure i got off on the right foot and thank god for that because this is where the fun started. I get to the station and cast around for the nearest ticket information desk to present myself to and find one without any trouble. When I finally get to the head off the cue I am told that my booking number is not sufficient and that I have to print everything off. Now at this point I can only assume that the gentleman behind the counter with the thick German accent, was having a very bad day indeed because when I inquired as the where I can print off my email he fired back an angry "how should i know". A bit disillusioned with my transport company I look around the station a little bit desperately for an internet cafe with printing facilities. I don't find a cafe but what i do happen to find is an ice cream shop with printing and over 36 flavours. The nice young girl behind the counter with the happy dutch accent says I need to sample the wares in order to be able to use the net and print and so I proceed to gleefully tuck into my 'Chunky Monkey' while scouring my inbox.

I return to Angry the German and present him the requested paperwork and a grin. Neither work it seemed because he then tells me in his own delightful fashion "this train does not exist." Restraining a number of tart replies I press the matter to find out how it is possible to purchase a ticket for a train that doesn't exist and his only response is to try and sell me a ticket for a train that is leaving at the exact same time to the same destination. This time, I do not restrain the sarcasm and we are sliding towards an altercation when his superior intercedes. As it turns out, it is my train, I do own a ticket, I didn't need to print it and Angry the German is in fact a twat. Medical fact. I leave the transit lounge looking like a cat thats been into the cream, followed by the sound of Angry coping a Dutch lashing.

I go back to the ice cream shop for some 'Coffee Coffee BuzzBuzzBuzz'...because I deserve it.

Germans stole my passport...

As a follow up to James’ post, I now have also braved the German Consulate, and returned relatively intact. It is worth noting that there is officially no good way to get to the damned place. Forewarned by the peak hour traffic conditions James had faced, I thought I’d be clever and take the train. On a map, it doesn’t look too far away from South Yarra station…. right?

It was a comedy of errors. I planned to catch a train that gave me plenty of time. I missed that one, though this was a blessing in disguise, for in my preparatory haste, I’d failed to pack several vital pieces of information I’d need for my application. After getting hold of everything I needed, I'd missed another train. Technically, I could still get there on time - the trains I'd missed would have delivered me early, now I'd just be cutting it fine. Yet my hopes were dashed - clearly I haven’t been watching the news in the last month; all it takes is a warm breeze and Connex just gives up for the day. Flinders Street was awash with the chorus of 'Train not taking passengers'. By the time I got to South Yarra I was already running rather late, and that isn't counting the dash from the station to the consulate. What I learned: Metlink maps can make things look deceptively close together.

I must say, given that I was 40 minutes late for my appointment, they were remarkably polite, and despite a waiting room full of people I was called within moments of my arrival. They took my forms. They took my passport.

If all goes well they’ll give it back to me soon.

P.S : I found this in our travel insurance fine print, under incidents that they ‘do not cover at all’:

‘A loss caused by, arising directly or indirectly from or in any way connected with the use, existence or escape of nuclear weapons material, or ionising radiation from, or contamination by, radioactivity from any nuclear fuel, or nuclear waste from the combustion of nuclear fuel.’

In short, we aren’t covered for nuclear war.