The Haupstadt Blues
Berlin, London, Paris, Rome, Mudgee, Como… I’ve been everywhere, man – from the city to the sea – and, well, its just not working for me now. I reckon I must be over it. Not like a whinging tourist in a queue for something they don’t really want to see, or a pouting child that could only be happy with more ice cream, nor even that “ennui” that the French do so well, but, y’know, that’s it.
Full. Enough. Genug.
Don’t worry, no straws on camels backs here ‘cos I’ve at least got the good sense to get going while the going’s good, but I reckon that I couldn’t look at another Basilica, thrall at another platz or swoon in the presence of man-made greatness again for, oh, at least a week.
I’m thinking I’ve come down with what the travel doctor might call the Hauptstadt Blues.
A case of the blues
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| Repeat with Jack: Tomorrow, tomorrow… the sun will come out tomorrow… |
Capital cities are swell and all, everything is there, everyone knows it and you need want for nothing – but there comes a time in a man’s life when a bit of peace and solidity is what makes for the bedrock of sanity. It’s happened before: I hit the road years before and headed outback, found it all and then came back. It’s not like the world is a better or worse place for it all, it’s really only this capital city thing that’s got me. “You’ve got to go to this”, “you’ve got to see that” – mind you things like that are not always just in the Capitals, but after a while it’s that attitude, like a pigeon’s chest puffed with pride at what such a great city it is, what its become, that ultimately cruels it for me. I reckon its time for a bit of back-to-basics grit-and-dirt reality, but this time Euro-style. When you’re over the city, hit the country!
The cure? Get a rail pass & get random
You might be able to traverse a smattering of stretched out locations on the wheels of steel in the outback, but over here? Crikey, a man is spoilt for choice! First up, arm yourself – get a rail pass. Nice as it is, after a couple of trips on the train you might feel that the ticket inspector just needs a parrot on his shoulder in some places the way they charge for the tickets – and who can be bothered booking ahead for the specials all the time? Grab a Eurail pass – they come in a range of colours and sizes, from travel everyday to a selection of days in a number of months (like 8 days out of 2 months for instance). You can go global or choose a couple of countries (1, 3 or 5 perhaps).
And now you’re all planned-up - get random! Grab a rucksack and head for the door – the world’s your oyster and feel free to add a little tang and down it in one gulp. Like an eternal return to a place that was once better, with a fire in your belly and an eye to the road, now’s the time to live life extra-large!
Make sudden decisions. With bag on your back, maybe some cheese and bread for the journey and head to the Gare Le Central to hit the tracks on the first train that takes your fancy. The pass lets you travel all day so why not make the most of it? Forget the book/DVD/laptop/iPod, use nature’s TV and get a prime window seat for a rolling afternoon of country, dales and meadows, with the odd rivulet or meandering stream thrown in.
Say, for instance, it was breakfast in Basel: you could be in Zurich before your morning coffee (1 hour) or Liege for a late brunch (5-6 hours). Apertivo in Bologna (5 hours), or just a day on the tracks. Join the dots, get random and jump trains till you hit that relaxed feeling that comes only from the world slipping quietly by and the steady rhythm of the train playing the soundtrack to worldly satisfaction.
Parsley voop fronglay silver plate?
One thing that will make you welcome anywhere and make your life a lot easier is a few words in the right direction. You probably speak English (if you’ve made it this far down the page chances are “Oui”) and in the capital cities they’re usually falling over themselves to be all international and practice their English on you. A nice smile can charm your way into many places, but there’s nothing quite like pulling out a little local lingo to really get you to the right locale.
Learn to count to 10, say please and thank you and maybe even “where is” and listen for “left” and “right” in the answer , then you’re instantly on the road to international success. In just one day you could head out of Belgium (French and Flemish), duck through Luxembourg (German and, um, Luxembourgian?), sache through France (no guesses there) and through to Switzerland (French, Schweizer Deutsche and Italian). Smoothing the seams of transit with a little linguistic gymnastics and you could be making life a lot easier for yourself and your new best friends as you aimlessly trek into the hearts of new towns far and wide.
Rural bliss anyone?
Belgium is an ideal example to demonstrate the potential for an escape from the rat-race. Jump that train in the north (Antwerp, Brussels, Gent) and head south for the nearest border. Reel in your seat as the landscape slowly relents to grassy greens and open spaces once again. Feel the stress of the city and those Hauptstadt Blues melt away as space is once again the place. Between the lovely towns of Namur and Jemelle, for instance, you can believe you’re lost somewhere in a forgotten rural paradise as horizon-wide meadows, sweeping valleys, lush glades and wistful streams beckon gaily from your window-side watch.
Why not head out across the eternal golf-course that is Spain? Where what was once trees, which now all sit as ancient boats beneath seas far and wide, there lies sweeping green plains running aside the endless iron-horse of your speeding passage. Wind your way along countryside cliffs to coastal towns and villages where the fruits of the sea call freshly to tables far from the hoi-polloi of capital city trends. Get out amongst it, beat those blues, get out of town and get out of the grind and soon you’ll see that the truth really is Out There!
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