(Saturday, Sept. 12) As I type this blog post, and the three previous ones, we are flying down the tracks towards Munich, about seven hours to the south of Berlin by ICE (“Inter City Express) train. The First Class car in which we are riding is much fancier than the ones in which we rode from Prague to Dresden, and Dresden to Berlin. Right now (as we pull into the Leipzig station) we have a four seat “cubicle” compartment (a sliding glass door can be shut to keep the “riff-raff” out, although they could toss tomatoes at us over the top of the “cubicle” walls) with leather seats.
The conductor-hostess offered me coffee, I said “Kaffee with Milch” (coffee with milk). She said “Kaffee with Milch” or “Milchkaffee”? Neither she nor I could figure out how to ask or explain the difference, so I went with “Milchkaffee” which turned out to be like the Café au Lait one would get in France.
A young tow-headed kid, probably about two years old, kept toddling into our cubicle, looking at me and saying “Da-Da”. I tried to assure him that I was not his father, but he kept returning every few minutes, occasionally with his four year old brother coming to fetch him back to his proper seat. His mother asked Cindy to mind him for a few minutes while she used the “Ladies” (and Men’s) room. They were on their way to a farm.
