I’m on the train from Brussels to Cologne, Germany.  My eventual destination is Oberhausen.  Andrea Bocelli agreed to sing to me tonight.

Earlier, at Brussels Zuid train station, I took my suitcase on the down escalator.  A woman behind demanded that I let her get by.  There was no room to do so.  I said “No.  My balance isn’t good on escalators.” She tried unsuccessfully to climb over my suitcase.  (Sigh)

Scenes from my train window:

Kids zooming around a playground, way below my view

Eight satellite dishes hanging on the walls of a small apartment building

An ancient church spire with flashing lights at the top to warn planes

Speeding by a train fifty metres away, moving in the same direction

Mile after mile paralleling a freeway … so boring.  Cars are just not that interesting

Finally a broad expanse of green, hosting cows that may be wondering why we’re going so fast

So high above the streets of Liège, looking down on the heads of people walking by

At the station, a canopy above of yellow, red and transparent strips of glass

To reach Oberhausen, I’m taking four trains.  So there are three transfers, ranging between ten and eighteen minutes .  If the trains are on time, and I can speedily find the new platform, I’ll see Andrea.

I’m in Germany!  No sign.  The trees look the same.

Oh oh.  The train left Achen, Germany nine minutes late.  It’s expected to arrive in Cologne at 4:22.  My next train leaves there at 4:25.

Happily the gentleman sitting next to me got on his phone and discovered another train that leaves at 4:37.  It goes to Essen rather than Wuppertal but there’s a train from Essen to Oberhausen that will get me in at 6:44.  The concert starts at 8:00.

Life works

I’m on the train to Essen.  Four people have helped me.  Praise life.

The highest speed that I saw on the previous train to Cologne was 228 kph.  Now I’m on a really slow one – probably 60 kph.

The light is fading.  Far more compelling than the grey landscape are the passengers.  One young black woman with a huge smile is especially compelling.  And the languages soaring above our seats! German so dominant, unlike the Dutch of Belgium.  But also others that I can’t decipher.

Now the final train from Essen to Oberhausen.  More like a subway, and crammed with commuters.

I stood outside the Oberhausen train station, praying that Google Maps would be nice to me.  And it was.

Soon Peter was letting me into the apartment, showing me the lights and keys, giving me directions to the arena.

It was 7:15.  “How do I pay on the bus?”  “I have to charge my phone some or I’ll have no ticket to get in.”

Peter’s explanations were longer than I wanted.  Time was so short.  I hope I was polite (but maybe not).

I was finally on the street, walking fast to the bus stop.  This time Google Maps was wrong.  What I thought was the stop was just a widening of the pavement.  And Bus 957 floated by.

I found another bus at another location.  A woman speaking in French tried to help me navigate Oberhausen transit.  I didn’t understand.

However …

At 7:59 my eyes beheld this:

More tomorrow