The sun hotly blazed down on us as we left our hotel and headed to the train station. Dan was catching a train to Hamburg at 2pm, so he was leaving his luggage at the train station, and intended to take a hike around the Tiergarten.
We all said farewell to him, wishing him a safe journey and a great time in the northern city. I was saddened to part company, but I knew he was quite capable of looking after himself and would have an action packed time.
Uncharacteristically, our train arrived 30 minutes late. We piled onto Waggen 12 and were soon ensconced in our compartment, where we were joined by Greg and Ellen, a friendly couple from Melbourne. "Melbourne has won many awards for its quality of life," Greg informed us, though I never did find out what the criteria were for that judgement.
The couple had a daughter who was undertaking a four month backpacking trip through Europe, and they had travelled to Europe to meet up with her, and also have an explore themselves. They had a well packed itinerary: London, Paris, the Loire Valley, Vienna, Switzerland, Prague, Berlin, and now intended to spend a day Amsterdam, visiting the Van Gogh museum before they would return home via Hong Kong.
Rex picked their brains on the best places to visit in Australia. "Melbourne of course," started Greg with a broad smile, "but you must go to the Barrier Reef before it disappears. Avoid Golden Beach, it is just high rise hotels, and there are hundreds of other excellent beaches. South Queensland is a pretty area, and so is the area above Cairns, but Cairns is getting a bit commercialised now. But you need to fly around a lot of the places. Getting to Uluru is a flight or a week's drive." Once he'd picked up we were sailors, he recommended the Whitsunday Islands just north of the Barrier Reef.
Greg's passion was fly fishing, and every year since his 60th birthday, when Ellen treated him to a fishing holiday, Greg and a few of his pals returned to New Zealand's South Island, just above Invercargill, to indulge in fly fishing for trout. "The trout in New Zealand are large," he said, "the American trout are plentiful but smaller." The chap also had a small boat that he took out to sea off Melbourne for a spell of sea fishing.
We shared travel exploits, discussed the merits of European countries, their attitudes etc., before moving on to sport and politics. Australia has had its fair share of refugees in the past, many of whom, such as the Vietnamese, have assimilated well. However, he thought Australia's current attitude of rerouting potential refugees to places such as Papua New Guinea might not be the best solution. "The traumatised people may well become even more traumatised there," he stated. It is indeed a difficult question trying to sort out financial refugees from political refugees.
We gathered that Australia's outback is slowly filling up with pests such as possum, cane toads, camels, rabbits, kangaroos etc. In the not so outback, other pests were invading: McDonald's, KFC, and Burger King were prolific too. Indeed Asian food was becoming predominant in the country, though the national dish was still the BBQ.
Greg was a keen cyclist, now possessing all the gear with go-faster stripes. However, he would not venture too much on roads, preferring Melbourne's increasing spread of cycle tracks.
He and Rex shared an interest in golf. My only interest in the sport has been through replacing a window after my grandson, Oliver, drove a golf ball neatly through it. For a five year old he packs a hell of a shot.
They were an interesting couple to chat to, had a point of view, and like us were looking forward to returning home to immerse themselves back into normality.
As our train sped across the German flat countryside, we encountered a cold front that was advancing across the continent. By the time we reached Amsterdam, we had passed through the band of rain and were back into sunshine. A quick handshake with our fellow travellers, and we sprinted off to get tickets for a train up to Hoorn, where Duonita was lying waiting for us.
After the busy explore of the historical city of Berlin, with the constant image of stone, steel and glass surrounding us wherever we went, it felt good again to be flying across polders populated by horses, cattle, sheep and the occasional small farms. For some reason or other, Rex, Meryl and I started debating the pronunciation of Hoorn, and how some folk would really roll the "r". That is one sound I cannot produce, I just can't roll "r"s. Rex took it upon himself to try and teach me, much to the amusement of the young Dutch woman sitting beside me who ended up in fits of laughter.
Barry and Yvonne had left the boat in immaculate condition, and no doubt were well on their way back to the UK by now.
It was distinctly cooler with a bit of a breeze in Hoorn, but I savoured the salty tang in the air. We returned to a Mexican restaurant in the Roode Steen, and shared a few laughs with the waitress who had served us almost a week ago. She had a wicked sense of humour, and looked after us well. Meryl was convinced she was flirting with me, I think not. It was a lovely last night together, tinged with sadness that Dan wasn't here to share it, but still a lovely evening.
