One writer, one Interrail pass and a wildly over-ambitious, 37-stop journey to test railway accessibility in Europe. Wanstead-based travel writer Carole Edrich presents the seventh instalment of her Big Rail Story
I walk back to Ypres station in the dark, catching the beautifully lit square. It is so cold on the platform that I wonder if I should have worn all my clothes instead of carrying them.
The train is warm, but my troubles aren’t over. I can’t find Antwerp on the in-carriage board. After a tiny little wobble (hah), I remember that Belgium has three official languages, none of which is English. The Dutch for Antwerp is Antwerpen. I look again. It’s still not there. Am I on the wrong train? I try to persuade myself that it’s not such a biggie. I can get off at the next stop, work out where I am, where I should be… again… and use the Interrail app to help me get there. I tell myself it’ll all work out fine, but don’t really believe it. The heart’s going fast now. Deep breaths are good for panic, right? I take three. Then remember that the French for Antwerp is Anvers. Which, of course, is what is showing. Genius? Me?
The trouble with being familiar with a language that I’m not particularly good at is exactly this type of confusion. I’m familiar with and not particularly good at Dutch, French and Spanish, and familiar with but totally rubbish at German and Italian. This trip could be quite trying. We’ll most likely see.
Walking to my seat creates obvious disgruntlement among the passengers. As I settle, I wonder whether silent British passive aggression is better or worse than frank Flemish frustration (I still don’t know).
I sit and watch the pinks, oranges and purples of a beautiful dawn cast their magic over the Flanders fields. Time for breakfast, and I discover the bread in the package prepared super-early by the thoughtful folks at Novotel Ypres is still warm. Despite my low-carb resolution, I eat it all.
Transformed by the dawn light, the scenery, already picture-postcard pastoral perfection, develops golden tinges. Past Wevelgem, through romantic golds, seductive shadows, subtly rolling hills, patchwork pastures and soft-focus pastoral peace. Famous local painter Émile Claus devoted his life to rendering the ethereal effects of the light that’s so lovely around here. It’s clear why.
Purple smoke snakes slowly from a brickwork warehouse. Buildings on the approach to Kortrijk reveal its industrial past. At the station, a clearly cold couple are waiting to board, and a group of well-behaved yoofs with skateboards drag themselves off. Doors open to a slight hint of burning rubber, then we’re off and leave the city with its low, medieval skyline behind. We pass the River Leie’s reflective waters and the occasional flax field, then I wake up from a nice snooze to discover we’ve already reached Gent-Sint-Pieters. I remind myself, with a smile, this is Ghent.
For links to the places and to listen to Carole’s podcast, visit wnstd.com/rail
