Eye em riting yeu frum a traen heded sumware, butt I kno nott wear. Iye im lost sum wear in Urup. I got sepurayted from Kirstee, Shanun, and Anuh in Suittzurlund. Sew pharr, I'ev vizeeted Ahstreea, Jirminee, Lucksimbergg, and Belljum. Eevenchooalli, I wil mayk it two thu Netterlunds. I fill lick that Kwantum Leep guy - sumdae I'll mack the leep home. (Orr, at leest get on the corekt trane).
Ure Sistr,
Cluadia
S.P. Plees don't tel Mom and Ded.
If you're ever in Switzerland, racing to catch a train, whatever you do, don't get distracted by the giant yellow Toblerone sign behind the train platform. I made that mistake. What did it get me? Lost, lost, lost.
I didn't set out to get separated from the group. I wanted to catch the train to Amsterdam as much as anybody. Kristy lead the way through the Berne station. I brought up the rear. I wasn't that far behind Anna, but it was kind of hard to run with that broom handle bouncing against my shoulders. We made it onto the platform still together. We saw the train. Kristy waved her arms, calling out to the conductor. Then, I looked up and saw it. A vision in yellow and red. Toblerone. It was the biggest billboard I'd ever seen. I don't know German, but I understood two words on that sign: Toblerone and Berne. Like a flash of lightening, it all fell into place in my mind. The Matterhorn ride at Disneyland, the Matterhorn on the Toblerone package - Toblerone was a Swiss chocolate. Not just any Swiss chocolate, but one made right there in Berne.
I don't know what happened next. Somehow, I ended up at the Toblerone factory. It was so strange. In Amsterdam, a city where nearly everyone speaks English, I found it impossible to navigate the transportation system. But in Switzerland, a city where hardly anyone speaks English, I had no problem. It was like the chocolate called to me. Or perhaps, the ghost of Jean Tobler lead me there.
I arrived at the factory just in time to join the last tour. That was the funnest tour I've ever been on! We got to see how the chocolate's made and everything! The tour guide yelled at me for trying to climb into a vat of melted chocolate (a childhood dream of mine almost realized). The scolding didn't faze me one bit. After all, I was in a chocolate paradise! When I grow up, if I'm not successful with my junk food art and sculptures of Jackie Rodowsky, I want to work at a chocolate factory. Maybe the Hershey factory in Pennsylvania or the Ghirardelli factory out in San Francisco.
After the tour, I bought some chilly souvenirs at the gift shop - earrings shaped like miniature Toblerone bars, a set of Toblerone salt and pepper shakers for my parents, a book about the history of Toblerone for Janine (she likes books), ten dark chocolate bars, eight white chocolate bars, and get this! A 4.5kg bar of milk chocolate! I don't know how much 4.5kg is in normal measurements (why can't the Europeans measure things in liters like us?), but that bar of chocolate weighed more than Charlotte Johanssen's schnauzer. I figured I'd have it eaten by the time I returned to Amsterdam. Then, I'd wear the empty box as a hat!
Once I made it back to the train station I thought it'd be smooth sailing from then on. Everything else had worked out so well. I was wrong. Suddenly, my chocolate-covered adventure turned as horrid and bitter as German chocolate. Here's my advice on foreign travel: when buying a train ticket don't just assume that because you point upward the ticket lady understands you need to go north.
And so began my strange odyssey through Western Europe. I wrote that postcard to Janine late Sunday evening. By then I'd already been to many cities - Zurich, Innsbruck, Munich, Stuttgart, Strasbourg, some place called Luxembourg. Every time the train pulled into a new city, I got off, bought some chocolate, and boarded the next train that pulled into the station. It felt as if I were simply going around in circles. Maybe I was. Like I've said, I don't know anything about geothermology.
In Antwerp (which I learned is in Belgium), I mailed Janine's postcard, then bought a box of Belgian chocolates. My pail was getting pretty loaded with chocolate bars. Plus, I had that huge Toblerone bar to lug around. I began to regret that purchase. Almost as much as I regretted ditching my broom handle in that bathroom in Munich. It just didn't match my new ensemble. I'd shed the Swiss Miss outfit in favor of a more functional one. I had on a white t-shirt with a picture of Jean Tobler (founder of Toblerone and my new hero) on it. Around my waist I wrapped a Swiss flag that I stole off someone's front lawn. Not exactly the dibblest Kishi original, but it worked. It's too bad my Toblerone hat wasn't ready for wearing. Although I did manage to cram my braids through a couple of the smaller boxes.
"I could really go for some Belgian waffles right now," I commented to the young man standing next to me on the platform.
He didn't say anything, just stared down at me rather disdainfully. Probably one of those rude Frenchmen, like the ones I met on the train from Strasbourg. Whoa, did they ever not appreciate my telling them how much I love a good french dip.
The train pulled up then and I got on, even though I had no clue as to its destination. So far, all the conductors had left me alone, mostly just eyeing me suspiciously. I didn't mind. I got similar looks all over Stoneybrook.
"Where's this train headed?" I asked the middle-aged woman seated across from me. I hadn't had much luck finding fellow travelers who spoke good English. Most everyone I encountered seemed to speak German. Unfortunately, the only German words I knew were weinerschnitzel and frankfurter and I suspected both meant the same thing.
The woman cast a wary look upon me. "Mainz, Germany," she replied.
An English speaker! Maybe my luck was finally turning around.
"I'm trying to get to Amsterdam," I told her.
"Trying?" she repeated.
"Yes, it's been very difficult. I can't seem to get on the correct train. Do you know where Luxembourg is? I don't, but I went there this afternoon," I confided. I hoped she'd offer to help me out. Claudia Kishi is no stranger to relying on others. She asks for help when she needs it. Although, she usually waits until she's failing the class.
I decided to tell the woman just that. When I did, she looked at me oddly.
"Who's Claudia Kishi?"
"I am," I replied. Wasn't it obvious?
"Why are you talking about yourself in the third person?" she asked.
The third person? What third person? "There's only two of us," I said. Third person? I'd heard that term before...oh. "I got a C-minus in English," I explained.
The woman gave me another strange look, then stood up and moved to a different car. Maybe it's a German thing, but that just seemed really rude. I didn't have much time to dwell on it. All of a sudden, I started craving an Abraxas brownie. It was like an ache in my stomach. I actually felt a little shaky. I don't know why, but I can't get enough of those brownies. Apparently, Abraxas adds a special plant called cannonball or cannibal. No, cannabis. I decided to ask my parents to plant some in our front yard. I wished Mimi could have tried cannabis. We could have drank it in our special tea.
The conductor's voice crackled over the P.A. system. Of course, I didn't understand a word. I did, however, feel the train pulling to a stop. I looked out the window and saw...nothing. Well, it was pretty dark out. Figuring the city was probably on the other side of the train, I stood up, checked the safety pins holding my Swiss Flag skirt together, picked up my pails, and exited the train. Funny, no one else got off.
As the train pulled away I checked out my new surroundings. It was pitch black out, even with the single light flickering above the ticket booth. But, other than the ticket booth and platform there appeared to be nothing else in Mainz, Germany.
"Excuse me," I said to the man at the ticket booth, "is this the entire city of Mainz?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Mainz? That's another two hours by train,"
Oh my Lord! I did it again. Could I possibly get anymore lost?
"When's the next train?" I asked, panic creeping into my voice.
"Not until tomorrow night. We don't get many trains through here. But, there is a bus station a mile east of here. Buses run from six in the morning to eight at night,"
What choice did I have? I thanked the man and stepped onto the dirt road. I momentarily considered following the train tracks to Mainz. That just seemed silly. I glanced around. I'm not too good with directions, but I do know the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. Since the moon is the sun's opposite, it must rise in the east and set in the west. I stared up at the stars awhile, took a deep breath, and started down the dirt road, away from the moon. Janine's not the only person capable of figuring out complicated mathemalogical equestrians.
Around daybreak, I realized I'd gotten myself even more lost. I honestly hadn't thought such a thing possible. The sun was rising in the west just as always, but I couldn't see a bus station anywhere. I had to face facts - I was stranded in what may or may not be Germany, on a country road covered in potholes with no signs of civilizations. Well, Claudia Kishi, I thought to myself, you can't decoupage yourself out of this one.
In the distance, I heard the low rumble of an engine. Shielding my eyes, I gazed toward the horizon. A truck appeared at the top of the hill. I made a decision right then and there. I was getting out of Germany. I was finding a way home.
I stuck out my leg, lifted my skirt, and hoped for the best.