A bad beginning makes a good ending
Slab začetek, dober konec?
Ljubljana, 18. 7. 2023
Uverturna vožnja v Ljubljano z dramatično razgibanimi strelami, neomajnimi sunki vetra in utišanim radiem, ki z Oliverjevimi pesmimi zlagano uprizarja dalmatinsko idilo, mi mine prehitro, da bi zares dojela unikatnost izkušnje, ki je pred mano. Na ljubljanskem kolodvoru strmim v staro uro in goreč moder zaslon. Poln mehur me prisili v sprehod po podhodu, ki malenkostno razočarano in melanholično rezultira v izgubo prve vožnje z nočnim vlakom. Nadomestni avtobus me pripelje v Beljak, postaja poka po šivih. Na velikem zaslonu v avli pa napis “cancelled” In tako je v popotovalno izkušnjo udarila kruta realnost sveta, ki ga je zajel nepredvidljiv vrtinec vse bolj ekstremnih razmer.
Po dvournem prepiranju s preostalimi potniki, ki si sredi noči želijo zgolj doseči svoj cilj, omagano odidem z vlaka, saj na peron vkorakajo policisti. Skrbno opazujem dogajanje, tu in tam ujamem kakšno nemško besedo, vmes skočim na drugi peron, preveriti prosto kapaciteto italijanskega vlaka, seveda neuspešno. Prvi vlak odpelje, prepoln je, a vseeno s skoraj dvourno zamudo odhiti svojemu cilju naproti.
Moj naslednji cilj? Mrzle ploščice v avli veljaškega kolodvora, s premraženimi nogami in tresočimi rokami. Ob četrti uri odidem dalje. Ali pač?
A bad beginning makes a good ending
Ljubljana, 18. 7. 2023
The overture ride to Ljubljana, with dramatically jagged lightning, unwavering gusts of wind and a muted radio staging the Dalmatian idyll with Oliver’s songs, passes too quickly for me to truly grasp the uniqueness of the experience that awaits. I stare at an old clock and a flaming blue screen at Ljubljana’s roundabout for some solid minutes. A full bladder forces me to take a walk in the underpass, which, a little disappointed and melancholic, results in the loss of my first night train ride. The replacement bus takes me to Villach, station is filled with passengers, sleeping on the floor. And on the big screen in the lobby, the words “cancelled” appeared, crushing my idea of a perfect first travel day. So the harsh reality of a world caught in an unpredictable twister of increasingly extreme conditions hit the my travel experience on the very beginning.
After two hours of arguing with the rest of the passengers, who just want to reach their destination in the middle of the night, I leave the train in a daze as police officers enter the platform. I watch the action carefully, catching a German word every here and there. In between I jump to the other platform to check the spare capacity of the Italian train, unsuccessfully, of course. The first train departs, overcrowded, but still, almost two hours late to its destination.
My next goal? Cold tiles in the lobby of the Villach’s main trainstation, with cold feet and shaking hands. My departure is at 4 o’clock. Or is it?
