Tube Strike

It is not quite noon and it seems that we have been traveling for more than a day. Workers on the tube went on strike about 6:30 last night, although some stations locked their gates earlier. Immediate havoc ensued with thousands of people temporarily stranded. Thinking positive on our part did not bring an early end to the strike which will continue all day today. Scheduled to fly to Berlin at 13:15 we arose at 7:30 to formulate a plan. As the Heathrow Express was still in service, Mike booked our tickets albeit with some computer difficulties.

Now the trek began. We were staying in Southwark and needed to get to Paddington. Luckily the weather was sunny and mild so with determination we began to walk wearing backpacks, with helmets attached, and dragging rolling cases. The streets were jammed with cars, taxis, motor bikes, and bicycles pushing and shoving in every direction and, unusual for London, lots of beeping and hooting of car horns by frustrated drivers. By the time we reached Festival Hall on the Southbank we deemed it time for a coffee break.

Back on the street we found an empty black cab who reluctantly agreed to take us to Paddington if we would guarantee a cash payment. It is fortunate we don't travel on a strict budget or we would be fasting for a few meals. Along the way the inching motor traffic was forced to stop to make way for a marching regiment and a horse mounted unit. Where in the world were they going this morning? and why?

We arrived at Heathrow with much wait time for our slightly delayed flight to Berlin. Our limited German, wish I had a better high school teacher and was a more diligent student, caused us to march around searching for transportation to the city center. The long 'bendy-bus' was large but inadequate for the crowd piling on. The journey seemed long as I tried to keep my backpack and helmet out of peoples' faces, my case propped against my leg, and my balance on an uneven ride.

On arrival at the central bus terminal we began the search again for the local bus to Potsdamer Platz, the location of our hotel. Stepping off the bus, we realized that the Platz is not just a block or two but a very large area and the directions of "just a few steps off the Platz" was not particularly helpful. The rain had begun. Mike could easily get to his jacket. I had packed less efficiently. Feeling tired I nearly accosted the nearest German and was rewarded with a direction of two blocks to our new home, the Berlin Marriott. By the time we got to our comparatively large room it was 6:30, we knew we had lost an hour due to the time difference, but still felt as if we had travelled for the same time as a transatlantic crossing.

 

 

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