Summer of '76

30 seconds: making a new friend

I arrived at Youth Hostel Ernst Reuter in Berlin in early evening on a day in August, 1975. Checked in, got something to eat and pretty soon was sitting at a table chatting with several Germans (none of whom were from Berlin) about the city.

She approaches the group at the table in the Youth HostelPeople came and went around us, more or less unnoticed. That is, until she stepped into the room. She came over to our table and asked: “Does anyone here know Berlin?” She was definitely American, sun-tanned and with a backpack on one shoulder. Now, she could have come in earlier or later, she could have not asked that question—that would have made all the difference in the world.

Next thing I knew, all the others at the table pointed at me. Funny, since I’m not German. But I’d spent enough time in the divided city. Soon she and I were alone at a table looking at maps and brochures, figuring out what she wanted to do with her time in the city.

I suggested the usual must-see items: Ku’damm, the Reichstag, Charlottenburg Palace, a trip over to East Berlin. Then I added:

“I’m going on a river cruise on Saturday afternoon,” pointing out the route on the map, from Wannsee across the lake and river up to Tegel. “About 3 hours. Great way to spend the afternoon.”

She looked at the map and shook her head. Something about not wanting to waste an afternoon that she could be doing city things. I told her, if she changed her mind, she could let me know before Saturday.

I didn’t see her again until I was heading out of the Youth Hostel after breakfast on Saturday morning. Walking through the dining hall, I heard her yell: “Hey you, are you still going on that river cruise today?” She was at a table with a bunch of American girls, all having breakfast. I stopped and turned. “Yeah, and you are still welcome.”
We figured out when and where to meet. And she and I became friends that day.
Now, 38 years later, we still keep in touch. I know a lot of things would have been different, had she not blurted out that question and those German kids not pointed at me. 30 seconds that made a new friend.

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Serendipity

The other day a person made a rather obnoxious comment that as soon as I heard it, I went to myself: “That’s what someone might have said to Carensa in the particular situation I am outlining in her story right now.”

At first opportunity, I jotted down the comment and sketched up a scenario for how that conversation could go and what it might lead to. In fact, I have a couple of places in the storyline where this comment and the following exchange may fit in perfectly.

It just shows that you never know when inspiration will strike. I’ve learned to take notes right away after it does, even if I have no idea how that fragment will fit into the big story. And serendipity is my friend. Fortunately, life is full of it, if one is open to it.

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The train car

What exactly was a long distance train like in the 1970s?

Each country in Europe had a national railroad (and possibly some private railroads as well). It was typically the national railroad that ran the long-distance trains and any international traffic.

BM234floorplanMost train cars used in long distance service were similar in layout: At the ends were vestibules with doors to the outside, as well as doors to allow passage to the next train car. A toilet and often a wash room were also located in the vestibule.

From the vestibule, you entered a corridor that ran down the side of the train car. From it you could enter any one of 9 to 12 compartments (the number depending on the car’s type). Older cars often had 8 seats per compartment, newer ones 6. The wall to the compartments had plenty of glass, although there were curtains that could be pulled if one didn’t want to be seen by everyone walking by (handy at night when trying to catch some shut-eye).

Sliding doors provided entry into the compartments. Right next to the door was a small frame with numbers. If a seat in the compartment was reserved, it would be indicated on a paper strip inserted into this frame. You learned to check for those things.

Bm234pixsmInside the compartment were either 2 benches or 6 individual seats. The quick lesson was benches are bad and individual seats are good. Those seats pulled out, allowing the traveler to enjoy a reclined position. 2 facing seats could be pulled out to provide a place to lie down. That way 3 people could comfortably lie down in a compartment for night travel. If there were 6 of you in there, you’d better be good friends as things got a bit snug.

Each seat had a headrest, often adjustable. The window seats and sometimes the aisle seats had small folding tables, just big enough for lunch.

Over the seats was a shelf for hats and small luggage items, and above it, a larger luggage shelf. After a while, you learned the right swing to hoist a fully loaded backpack up there without dropping it. There was also luggage space under the seats in many cars.

The windows back then opened, with the top half sliding down. You could hang out the window for fresh air or to wave goodbye to old or new friends as the train left the station. There was of course no air conditioning, so being able to open the window was a good thing.

During the trip, the compartment often became a world of its own. It was a place where great friendships were made, that lasted long after the journey was over. Or it was a place to get some rest, catch up on reading or just watch the world roll by outside the window. But after many cities, towns and youth hostels, there was something that felt like home about a train car compartment.

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