Dijon

The time had finally come for us to say a final goodbye to Konstanz. The problem was that the departure time was too early. Far too early. When your train to Zurich is scheduled to leave soon after 7 am, there was certainly no time for sleep ins or leisurely breakfasts.

Since we were going to miss breakfast, the hotel compensated by making up a little "lunch bag" for each of us. The only problem with that is that it added to the copious amount of luggage we were already struggling to manhandle to the railway station.

At least the train arrived (precisely) on time, and to our relief the carriage was only partially full. And so it should have been - after all it was 7 am on a Sunday morning.

We enjoyed a comfortable trip back through the Swiss countryside to Zurich HBF (central station). That is where we faced the challenge of trying to find the correct platform for the train to Paris. With a complete absence of Information Offices and departure details, we were not even sure we were on the correct station.

By some sequence of luck and good management we did manage to stumble into the Paris bound train. It was even more good fortune to discover that our carriage was almost empty. We even had enough space to sensibly store our luggage.

Soon we were gliding silently out of the station and on our way to Dijon. The countryside outside was hiding under a thick fog, so we could not see very far. It was only when we reached the city of Basel that things changed dramatically. A huge crush of passengers clambered into our carriage, filling every empty seat. Luggage was jammed into anywhere available. This seems to be the recurring pattern in post Covid train travel.

The driver managed to spur the motors into propelling the train at an eye watering 318 kph. That was quite an experience. Such was the speed of the train that we arrived in Dijon around midday.

We stepped out of the train into 26C heat and bright sunshine. So much for all the winter clothing we had dragged all around Europe. Maggie and I had visited this city several times in the past and had very favourable memories of the place.

We walked the short distance from the station to our hotel, and arrived to find the door securely locked. This was an Aparthotel, and checkin was not possible till 4 pm. That was a bit of a problem, until two other guests came out of the hotel, leaving the door ajar. We jumped at the unexpected turn of events, dragging our luggage into the foyer. And that is where it stayed while we spent the rest of the day exploring this historic city.

Unlike the Germans who renovate every historic building, so that they look like they were built yesterday, the French are not afraid to let buildings age gracefully. Peeling paint and cracked timbers are a testimony to what each building has been through.Читать далее