Hi, I’m back from a trip to Paris. The training was very useful, the stay was very pleasant et les Mademoiselles sont tres belle. The weather was fair as well but it was dark when we left the hotel in the morning and it was dark when we left the training center at night. I took this trip together with two contractors who will be working on the same project as I do, Sachin and Ashok from India. We enjoyed the four days in Paris. Thursday was the last day of the training. In the afternoon we were supposed to be at the “Gare du Nord” train station at 16:55 to head back to Amsterdam.

We took a cab from Suresnes to Gare du Nord. The cab was arranged to be at the training facility at 15:30 but showed up a little early. The cab driver, called Frédéric, was a very pleasant French gentleman with great conversation. He had some of the best stories and a kind of humor that is comparable to the humor of people from Amsterdam. Like making up very catchy nicknames for everyone. The way he talked about the Le President (called President Swarovski instead of President Sarkozy) was wonderful. “Swarovski crystal looks good on the outside but it is just glass”. We discussed lots of things with him on the way to Gare du Nord. Traffic was bad in Paris but time passed like a breeze on the good conversation we were making. Whatever you do, don’t make the mistake of calling him a taxi driver. “Zyou kneuw zhere es a big differance between the taxi-driveurs, like-a them, and a cab-driver, like-a mee. I eem a cab-driveur”. Very entertaining. He was telling jokes and punch lines like a stand-up comedian. Mind you, this guy is very erudite. He’s been all over the world and is very open-minded. He meets people from all over the world. He knows more about people and cultural habits than most people do. He told us that this morning he dropped of a Russian violin player who had to perform in Paris that night. The violinist gave Frédéric free tickets for the concert that night. We also experienced the difference between the taxi drivers that took us to the training facility every morning and the cab-driver. The taxi drivers said nothing along the way. When you tried to make conversation they were killing the conversation before it started. Now here we are in a French cab with Frédéric who is making us laugh all the way to Gare du Nord.

We were right on time at Gare du Nord. We knew the platform we had to be at. We walked into the main hall of the station on our way to the platform when we were stopped by some French soldiers holding automatic weapons. As I happen to be a trained marine in the special forces they were lucky I could control my instincts. I could have taken this guy out within 0.1 seconds. Disarm him and snap his neck at the same time. Afterwards I could shoot all other armed soldiers within gun range from the hip, before they knew what hit them. These guys are so lucky I was able to control myself. You know Rambo? I can kick his ass any day, hands down and blindfolded.

The problem in the main hall turned out to be some left luggage in the main hall. Some explosive experts examined the left luggage. After a couple of minutes they cleared the area and we were allowed to pass. I still felt the urge to take this one guy out but I let him live. Call me weak but a little kindness goes a long way. We were on the platform in time and the Thalys train was already waiting there. Unfortunately Sachin, Ashok and me all had to sit in a different cabin. So we had to split up. You can walk around in the train. I was in the first cabin and in the passage to the second cabin there was the kitchen where the train-personnel prepare the refreshments. It was next to impossible to pass that.

The Thalys would take us from Gare du Nord in Paris to Bruxelles in Belgium. There we had to get off and take the intercity to Amsterdam Central Station. The trip to Bruxelles was very pleasant. I might write something about that in another post, well, maybe not. Anyhow it involves a very pleasant hostess. And me. And the hostess. And me. And the hostess. Alright, enough already!

In Bruxelles we had to get out. We met on the platform and regrouped. The gang went to platform 11a since that would be the platform where the intercity to Amsterdam will depart at 18:40. We were there. We were there on time. The train was not. The only thing that was there was the haunting suspicion that we were at the wrong track. We hurried to the ticket office and the guy told us the train to Amsterdam normally departs from track 17 or 18. He took a look at our printout. He looked a little stupified at the “track 11a” on the paper and concluded that “11a” would be the arrival track in Amsterdam. Why in the world would I be interested in the track at which a train arrives at its final destination? What is the use of that? Who needs to know? I want to know at what track my train leaves! Damn! What is this? Belgium or something?

We had to wait an hour for the next intercity to Amsterdam Central Station. The time passed fairly quickly. The train pulled in and we went inside to take our seats in a first class cabin. Nice seats. We put our luggage in the racks above our heads. My laptop bag was very heavy since it contained all course guides, electronic notepad and all other gear a tourist needs: camera, drinks, mints, clean socks, inflatable lifeboat, survival knife, tent herrings, rubber hammer for the tent herrings, mountain shoes, sunscreen factor 20, little mosquito net, satellite phone (for emergencies), one spare tire for my Hummer and that kind of stuff. In short: my laptop bag was heavy. Sachin had already put his suitcase on the rack. He had his laptop on his chair. Ashok was putting his stuff away and Sachin offered me a hand. We put my bag in the rack. Let a guy pass and Sachin went to his chair. His laptop bag was gone. I told Sachin “the guy that just passed us!”. Sachin ran in the same direction as that guy but as you may expect he was already gone. Here the fun ended and took a dramatic turn for the worst. The laptop of Sachin was gone. It was a company laptop but he also had his brand new Ixus digital camera in there. Also an old cell phone with prepaid card so that is not too big of a loss. Unfortunately the camera was not insured against theft. We were all very disappointed by this. We all felt really bad. Dark clouds gathered above our little trip that went very well until now. To make things even worse his train ticket was also inside the laptop bag.

I decided to stay aboard the train and explain the situation when they will come to inspect the tickets. So we left with three persons, two tickets and a lot of disappointment. After a while a man and woman entered the cabin to inspect the train tickets. I told the story of our misfortune to these people. They inspected our two tickets and let us get away with this since we were in enough trouble already. This was very nice since they are supposed to fine us for not having three valid train tickets. They also told us that we really should report this to police and that we should not wait to do so in the Netherlands since the laptop is stolen in Belgium. The dutch police will just say “we can’t do anything about it here”. So they advised us to get out at Antwerpen Central Station because there is a police station where we can report the stolen goods.

So we got off at Antwerpen Central Station. On the platform we ran into the ticket inspectors and they told us how to get to the police station from here and wished us luck. We followed the instructions. We had to go up and up and than enter a large hall with a ticket booth and there should be a brown wooden door on the left. We found the door but is was closed. There was also no sign or anything. We informed at the ticket booth how to get to the police station. There is some construction work being done and we should actually go outside and then enter the police station from the other side. We go outside. The storm pours buckets of rain in our faces. The weather is really bad. Some people are sheltering underneath a small portico outside the station. We walk around the building to find a large square. In one corner of the square is the entrance to the Zoo of Antwerpen. We asked around. We talked to some native people but they didn’t know of any nearby police station. They sent us miles away. We knew it had to be there so we didn’t take this advice. We walked into a huge street hoping to find the police station there. Nothing. Nobody to ask except some tourists wandering the streets and a lot of drunk people. There’s no use asking for directions from someone who isn’t capable of giving any direction to his own life, is there?
So we walked back to the large square again. Rain was still pouring down on us. We didn’t care, we had to find the police station. Once again I asked a native middle aged man for directions but he didn’t know of any nearby police office. Luckily a tiny chinese woman overheard the conversation and pointed us to the right direction. There! There! Just go along there! Unfortunately her directions led us back to some part of the station that was under construction so we couldn’t continue. We walked to the entrance of the zoo as two young women stepped out of a small passage. We asked them for directions and they told us to enter the station where they just left the station and go to the right. All the way right. We entered the station again and turned right. We were disappointed. We passed the ticket booth again and ran into the mysterious wooden door again. No need to say it was still closed. Sachin tried to look between the small cracks in the constructions screens and could see a police man there. We also saw an entrance with green doors. Victory at last!

We went outside again. The rain had stopped. The portico where people were seeking shelter from the storm was empty now. It was closed with a metal fence. It had a lot of posters on it for some theater show. There was also a sign on it that translates to “forbidden to enter the construction zone”. There was a small piece of paper above the sign that read “police only”. What looked like a fence turned out to be cut open on one side and you could actually enter it. Having lost everything except our desperation we just ignored what was on the signs and entered it anyway. What are you going to do about it? Shoot us? This ridiculous fence actually let to a small passage that was made up of construction screens and we just followed the passage. Then we recognized what we saw from the inside. We were on the right track now. It turns out that the strange fence and improvised gate was the only way to the police station. We couldn’t believe it. What is this? Belgium or something?

There was a door. We opened the door and there was a little room there. Inside the room there was a wooden bench to sit on, another door, without a handle, and some kind of counter. On the glass wall of the counter, that separates the policeman from the likes of me, there was also a printed note. “Talk Spanish? Bring a translator”. The same message was there for German, French, Greek, Italian and even for English. Good thing I was with Sachin and Ashok so I could do a little translating where needed. Besides the counter there was a small switch. Probably a switch to ring a bell. The bell will inform one of the policemen that someone needs attention. I pressed the switch to announce our presence and the lights in the small room went off. I pressed the switched once more. “Let there be light” I mumbled softly to myself so no one could hear. A quick headcount confirmed that we were all still there. Good. There was actually another switch by the door without a handle. It was hanging in mid air on some open electricity wire. It looked like a doorbell once you turned the switch around. I pressed on that. We expected the roof to come down but instead a gentle buzzer announced our presence. After a short while a policeman shows up at the counter.

It always gives me a good feeling when someone shows up after your ring a bell. It kind of confirms that you actually exist. Did you ever had a nightmare that you were ignored by each and everyone? When I apply that to this situation it’s like I pressed the buzzer but no one shows up. After a while a policeman walks by the counter. I say something to him but he just continues as if I’m not there. He takes some document from a desk and continues with what he was doing. No matter how loud I speak out I’m totally ignored. This bizarre scene will go on indefinitely. When I smash the glass of the counter no one reacts. No one notices it. When I jump the counter to enter their little private domain I’m not being stopped. When I try to hit a policeman I always miss. Not because they are avoiding my blows because that would confirm my existence. No they miss my blows because something happens. A pen drops so they duck to pick it up. Or when I try to kick them they suddenly stop and turn because they forgot something. No matter what you try there is never any conformation of your existence. No matter what you try nothing that surrounds you is actually responding to your actions. You are ignored by everything. You don’t exist. That the kind of nightmare I mean, did you ever had that kind of dream? Hey! I’m talking to you! Helloooo! Hey! I asked you something. Hey!

The police officer who welcomed us was actually very nice. He also seemed a little surprised. I think since they locked their office inside of the construction area they do not get a whole lot of visitors nowadays. I’m even not sure they get out at night. Maybe they also have a hard time finding the exit. Maybe these people are here for weeks and now finally someone from the outside world pays them a visite. Should I mention that I come in peace? We mean no harm to you nor your people. We come to bring you civilization. Bring us to your leader.

We told the friendly officer that we had a hard time finding the place. He did not really react on that. He opened the door in the little waiting room from the other side to let us in. He told us to take a seat and wait. He had to finish some business and will be with us in two minutes. We waited a while and after some time, which felt like 20 minutes, he returns. Finally we get down to business. The officer has a document in front of him that needs to be filled out. Name, address etc. The man asks for his address which is in New Delhi, India. Then he asks for his place of birth which is also New Delhi. Then the man asks what the country of birth is. Well guess what? The guy lives in New Delhi, India. His place of birth is also New Delhi. In what country would he be born? Take a wild guess?! Could it be…. “India”. Okay, so maybe he is required to ask that but please, come on. It is late at night. We need to fetch another train to the Netherlands. Please use your brain for a moment. Please. What is this? Belgium or something?

I was waiting for the next question to take my mind of this stupidity. Maybe the next question is about the stolen goods. Let’s not forget the stolen goods. Now you guess what the next question is? Take a guess! Yes! Indeed! You are right. The next question is “what is your nationality”. Oh my dear goodness, shoot me now. Please end this now. Shoot me. Suck the life out of me before this police officer does with the stupid questions. The guy lives in New Delhi, India. The guy is born in New Delhi, India. What would his nationality be? French? Well whatever it is he can be happy that it is not Belgian. Yes I’m aware that the answer is not automatically implied by the previous information but you could answer these questions easily be asking the right question. This makes the procedure sound so tremendously stupid. Especially when you are really trying to hurry up.

Now after the stupid questions we finally came to the inventory of stolen goods. Fortunately Sachin has a list of the serial number of the laptop as well as the serial number of his camera. He actually had the receipt of purchase of the camera that holds the serial number. So we had good documentation. Still things did not progress as expected. Tosiba , Tohsiba, Tosihba, Toshiba is harder to spell than you can imagine. So all this takes time. Since we are well documented there is a lot to write down. Finally after a long series of questions and translating stuff from Dutch to English and back we are finally done. The document the officer has been filling out looks like a battlefield. There is all kinds of corrections and he even used different colors of pen to associate different pieces of information at different positions in the document. It was a mess but it was alright to me. As long as he put his signature on it it is fine with me. The stolen goods will not be recovered and most of the stuff is not insured in any way so why do we need this anyway? Give me the piece of crap and we are out of here.

What happens now you won’t believe. The officer leans back. Strikes out some words that have already been stricken out and puts the paper on the other side of the desk just beside a computer keyboard. Using only two of the available ten fingers he starts typing over the information from the piece of paper into the computer system. I’m not sure how long we have been in the police station already but it seems like ages. Hopefully when another human comes in from the outside world he or she is able to rescue us all. After a long time of aggravation finally the printer in the room behind us starts spitting out the police report.

We can get a copy of the police report if Sachin is willing to sign on the original report that he has received a copy. Now please explain that to me. On the xerox of the original document you will also see the signature that he has received the copy. How can you sign for the receipt of a copy that does not even exist at this moment? What is this? Belgium or something? This kind of stuff would normally freak me out but this time I’m already beat. I accept that I’m now in the hands of the governmental system. There is no use making waves. The more you move the tighter the net gets. Just let it go. Breath in. Hold it. Count to five. And release…. let it go….

With respect to the stolen train ticket the officer suggests that we go to the ticket booth. Since the tickets are ordered online they will be able to print replacement tickets for the way home. The friendly officer lets us out and wishes us well. Then, once again, he is able to make me stop in my tracks. I’m really stupified as he says “careful now, the exit is a little hard to find”. In my imagination I pull him towards me and I shout right in his face “I’ve got some news for you, pal. The exit is the same as the entrance. Once you find the entrance the exit is easy to find. The difficult part is finding the goddamn entrance to this shithole. Put a fucking sign outside you moron”. Once again I can’t get my blood to reach the boiling point. I’m beat. I’m tired. I’m fed up with the situation. So I decide to heath the warning. Okay, the exit is hard to find. Thank you. We will keep that in mind. We have your phone number on the police report, if we get lost on the way to the exit we will call. Can you please dispatch a rescue team in that case?

We visit the ticket booth to get a replacement ticket for our unfortunate friend Sachin. The guy at the booth is stupified when I tell him what the police officer has told us. No way we are going to get any replacement tickets. Out of the question! How to proceed then? The booth guy suggest to just take the train. Tell the story everytime the tickets are checked and show the police report. When we are lucky they will not write a fine for the missing ticket but, and he repeats, “no guarantee”. So we just does what he says as this is fully in line with what I already thought that I would do. Just board the train and talk your way out of it. I ask the guy when the next intercity to Amsterdam Central Station will leave and at what platform. Good and bad news. The bad news is that the intercity will just go to Rotterdam Central Station. More bad news is that the train will leave after 40 minutes. The good news is that there will be intercity trains from Rotterdam to Amsterdam all night. So we wait for the train to Rotterdam and get on board.

In the train our tickets are checked again. Once again we tell the story of misfortune to the ticket guy. He feels very sorry for us. He told us that only today on the trains from Roosendaal to Amsterdam seven bags have been stolen in a similar way. The whole week there has been many cases of theft. When he is done with checking all cabins the ticket guy returns and hands us coupons for a free cup of coffee for all the trouble we had to go through. Did I already mention that he also refused to write a fine. He just let us off the hook after showing the police report.

In Rotterdam we once again had to wait for the Intercity to Amsterdam. I think we lost a good 30 minutes there. But at least the journey was coming to an end. Would there finally be a little luck on our way? No of course not. The intercity from Rotterdam to Amsterdam will stop at The Hague “Holland Spoor”. From there on the intercity will be a stop train. This basically means that the train will stop in every shithole along the way. Wherever two houses have been build we will stop to see if one of the inhabitants is interested in a trip to the next shithole in the middle of the night. What is this? Belgium or something?

The trip from Holland Spoor to Amsterdam took a very long time. We stopped in places I wasn’t even aware of that they were reachable by train. Hillegom, Aerdenhout, Lower shithole, Upper shithole, Shithole east, Shithole north and so on and so on. It was close to 02:00 when we pulled into Amsterdam Central Station. A strong storm and a vast rain were there to welcome us back in Amsterdam. We left the station with a feeling that is best described by the storm and the heavy rain. The trip ended dramatically, but at least it ended.

This entry was posted on Saturday, December 8th, 2007 at 3:39 and is filed under proza, remarkable. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.