Took the cab to Gare de l'est (East End Station). We had a polite cab driver who actually helped us with the luggage. It was a relief not be stuffed in a vehicle with a driver who is positively hostile to you. We ensured that we tipped him for just being civil and human!
The station is similar to the ones in India. There are a few shops which resemble the ones in the malls and several platforms. A few machine gun-toting guards move around the place and evoke respect. (But I miss my favourite Pandu havaldar with a prominent belly and twirled moustach (Dabangg ishtyle) who would have looked more menacing with his "danda" (baton).
We observe an Indian family which wants to store anything and everything for posterity. They are actually recording even the over-head arrival and departure displays at the station! C'mon guys, give me a break. Bangalore city station has similar ones.
We board the TGV and share a "coupe" (Indian pronunciation "coo-pay") with another Indian family. I need only 10 questions with a fellow Indian to find how he is related to me. We actually figure out that they are known to some of our good friends at Banashankari. (We even ran into them at the Jungfrau in Switzerland).
Rail travel is too organized. We miss the commotion and excitement which characterize train journeys in India.
The TGV chugs out of the station. We were under the impression that the TGV works on the principle of magnetic levitation and hencewould possibly have no wheels which would rest on the track. Nothing as dramatic as that. The engine has a pronounced snout and antennae which touch electric lines. It looks like any
other electric engine except that it is sleeker.
Soon, it picks up speed. We roll past picturesque meadows. Splash of greens and yellows everywhere. The sky is bright with patchy clouds. We pass some villages: cluster of white houses and brown, sloping roofs and a church tower thrown in the middle. This pattern is repeated from time to time. Soon, we have some hills in the horizon and small villages which now dot the base of the hills. We stop at 3 small towns in 3 hours. Apart from this, no other element of note: No rivers were crossed, no signal at which the train made an unscheduled halt, no peddlers selling their wares, no major junctions and associated city-life, no passenger who wishes to share the same seat as you till the next station, absolutely nothing.
We alight at Basel (pronounced ba-sel not bay-sel). Basel is in Switzerland. In just three hours, the whole of France has been covered. We wouldn't have even got past Bannerghatta Road in that time! It is hard to imagine such an uneventful travel in India.
We take the train to Interlaken. We are surpised to find that seats are not assigned and you can sit where ever you please. It's a double-decker train and the children want to sit on the top-deck. The landscape changes in Switzerland. Soon, we are passing through more more hilly terrain. The towns that we pass through are frozen in a different time and age. Life is relaxed and looks a lot simpler than we've made it out to be.
Soon, the alps are visible with snow capped mountains. The train winds its way alongside the Thun Lake.
Towering mountains with majestic peaks covered with snow stretch from the edge of the Thun Lake. Several sail boats skim across the water.
Interlaken is situated between the Thun lake and the Brienz lake. We get down from the train and lug the pieces of baggage (quite painful) across a few streets to the Hotel Stella.
Interlaken is a quaint, compact town. It has mountains with tall peaks on every side. Paragliders dot the sky. The bus service resembles those in the interiors of Canada: thin but effective service for the few people who inhabit it.
We take a short walk by the Thun Lake starting at Neuhause (pronounced noy-house). It could well have been a walk at the Gatineau park in Ottawa. Such is the languid nature of the surroundings.
The day was spent in a more relaxed way. After the last few days, we need this respite. Otherwise, vacation starts resembling the itinerary of Phileas Fogg in the classic "Around the world in 80 days".
The station is similar to the ones in India. There are a few shops which resemble the ones in the malls and several platforms. A few machine gun-toting guards move around the place and evoke respect. (But I miss my favourite Pandu havaldar with a prominent belly and twirled moustach (Dabangg ishtyle) who would have looked more menacing with his "danda" (baton).
We observe an Indian family which wants to store anything and everything for posterity. They are actually recording even the over-head arrival and departure displays at the station! C'mon guys, give me a break. Bangalore city station has similar ones.
We board the TGV and share a "coupe" (Indian pronunciation "coo-pay") with another Indian family. I need only 10 questions with a fellow Indian to find how he is related to me. We actually figure out that they are known to some of our good friends at Banashankari. (We even ran into them at the Jungfrau in Switzerland).
Rail travel is too organized. We miss the commotion and excitement which characterize train journeys in India.
The TGV chugs out of the station. We were under the impression that the TGV works on the principle of magnetic levitation and hencewould possibly have no wheels which would rest on the track. Nothing as dramatic as that. The engine has a pronounced snout and antennae which touch electric lines. It looks like any
other electric engine except that it is sleeker.
Soon, it picks up speed. We roll past picturesque meadows. Splash of greens and yellows everywhere. The sky is bright with patchy clouds. We pass some villages: cluster of white houses and brown, sloping roofs and a church tower thrown in the middle. This pattern is repeated from time to time. Soon, we have some hills in the horizon and small villages which now dot the base of the hills. We stop at 3 small towns in 3 hours. Apart from this, no other element of note: No rivers were crossed, no signal at which the train made an unscheduled halt, no peddlers selling their wares, no major junctions and associated city-life, no passenger who wishes to share the same seat as you till the next station, absolutely nothing.
We alight at Basel (pronounced ba-sel not bay-sel). Basel is in Switzerland. In just three hours, the whole of France has been covered. We wouldn't have even got past Bannerghatta Road in that time! It is hard to imagine such an uneventful travel in India.
We take the train to Interlaken. We are surpised to find that seats are not assigned and you can sit where ever you please. It's a double-decker train and the children want to sit on the top-deck. The landscape changes in Switzerland. Soon, we are passing through more more hilly terrain. The towns that we pass through are frozen in a different time and age. Life is relaxed and looks a lot simpler than we've made it out to be.
Soon, the alps are visible with snow capped mountains. The train winds its way alongside the Thun Lake.
Towering mountains with majestic peaks covered with snow stretch from the edge of the Thun Lake. Several sail boats skim across the water.
Interlaken is situated between the Thun lake and the Brienz lake. We get down from the train and lug the pieces of baggage (quite painful) across a few streets to the Hotel Stella.
Interlaken is a quaint, compact town. It has mountains with tall peaks on every side. Paragliders dot the sky. The bus service resembles those in the interiors of Canada: thin but effective service for the few people who inhabit it.
We take a short walk by the Thun Lake starting at Neuhause (pronounced noy-house). It could well have been a walk at the Gatineau park in Ottawa. Such is the languid nature of the surroundings.
The day was spent in a more relaxed way. After the last few days, we need this respite. Otherwise, vacation starts resembling the itinerary of Phileas Fogg in the classic "Around the world in 80 days".
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