PBP 2007 Fini

The electric train rocketed across the flat landscape heading east from Paris. I was expecting mountains as we approached Switzerland, but it was only a bit hilly—certainly not Alpine. No English announcements and no digital display—how to avoid missing the stop in Altkirch? Studying the schedule to learn the stops approaching Altkirch, checking the watch, stops were found to be pretty much spot-on schedule, listening intensely to the French announcements to decipher names—modern French and German are much softer than modern English: "Altkirch" sounds more like "Alkeersh" to me. I thought I had it all figured out, but somehow ended up in Mullhouse and had to jump onto another train to backtrack one stop. Altkirch appeared to be a beautiful little town along the canal—lots of inviting places to dine, but no chance renting a bike or finding a taxi. I walked the road southeast to the edge of town, then turned back when the sun set, getting to the deserted train station well after dark. A pair of young ladies at the station told me there were lots of "Gesser"s in Altkirch and I'd better get on THAT train now if I want to get to Mullhouse—it's the last one tonight!

Back at Mullhouse, I despair—I've come so far, but the last 16km seems like it won't happen. I should've stayed in Paris. It's 11pm, the next train to Paris is at 4am. Outside, the glowing orange dot of a cigarette marks those café tables occupied by a fellow loiterer. I munch a peach while seated on a bench in a well lit hall connecting a wing to the main station. A pair of bike cops accompanying a plain clothes whip around the corner and move hastily toward me—what'd I do? They pass me and rouse a man lying tucked against the wall. I better go get a room.