No. I have not become dyslexic. It was back again to the Cyrillic alphabet for a couple of days, so the y’s are u’s, the p’s are r’s and the h’s are n’s, and that’s the easy part. Truth be said it wasn’t too bad and nothing in comparison to the fantastic train journey from Eger.
First, however, I should start with the purchase of my train tickets. I had the exact times and connections on my iPhone, having looked them up on the internet ahead of time. So all I needed was to go to the train station, ask for the connection from Eger to Lwow via Fuzesabony and from there to Nyiregyhaza from where I could finally catch my train to Lwow. This turned out to be easier said than done. The lady and gentleman at the ticket desk spoke no English, and well, Hungarian, as I’ve already mentioned, is not very familiar. After about 15 minutes of flipping through various manuals, some several inches thick, and with the assistance of a lady who spoke some Russian they informed me that they were unable to sell me my ticket as it had to be purchased in Budapest.
Dismayed I considered my options as they continued flipping through various charts and manuals and talking to someone over the phone. Finally they got back to me saying that yes, indeed, they could issue me the ticket. The whole process took another 45 minutes or so, largely because everything had to be done by hand, ever code looked up in some other form of manual, every price checked in another binder and every seat verified by yet another phone call. Overall, nearly $60 and over an hour later I had my ticket to Lwow which would take me via the aforementioned route on a 15 hour journey.
The most interesting part of it was in Nyiregyhaza where the train from Budapest and heading to Moscow was scheduled to stop for exactly a minute. My car was supposed to be 434. Thankfully the train didn’t have that many cars, but it was much longer than average and I could tell that none of the cars that stopped in front of me were the right ones. Thankfully a conductor stepped out of the train at precisely that moment and I was able to ask him where to go. As we proceeded along the platform in search of the appropriate car, the train began to whistle, not caring whether there were more people wanting to get on. The conductor quickly backtracked to the first car with an open
door, told me to get in and to follow him along the inside, through locked doors which he had to unbolt, others which he had to pound on to get the other conductors to open, and eventually 10 or so cars later told me I was finally in the right place. The train had seriously stopped for just one minute. Had it not been for the conductor, I would likely still be sitting in Nyiregyhaza.
The other interesting part of the journey was the border crossing. The Hungarian side went quickly enough. The Ukrainian seemed to go likewise, but the border control lady managed to disappear with my passport. Afraid of the train leaving before my passport was returned, I desperately tried to stay away. Then the train began to move, but the conductor told me not to worry. Then the train stopped. Then the banging started; then the drilling; then the shoving; then more banging. This went on for probably 3 hours. When I finally poked my head out the window I could see these vise-like devices along either side of the tracks and a seemingly endless stack of spare train suspensions stacked on the tracks next to us. Turns out that the rail gauge in Hungary (and Western Europe) is
different from the one in the Ukraine and Russia. As such when you cross the border they have to conduct the adjustments. Whether this entails swapping out the entire suspension or simply readjusting the wheels, I have no idea. All I know is that it was very time consuming and that since I still didn’t have my passport back, I could not go to sleep.
Eventually around 4am, we began to move again, went back into the station, and my passport was handed back to me with a nice red Ykpaiha stamp in it. About six hours later, we arrived in Lwow exactly on schedule.
First, however, I should start with the purchase of my train tickets. I had the exact times and connections on my iPhone, having looked them up on the internet ahead of time. So all I needed was to go to the train station, ask for the connection from Eger to Lwow via Fuzesabony and from there to Nyiregyhaza from where I could finally catch my train to Lwow. This turned out to be easier said than done. The lady and gentleman at the ticket desk spoke no English, and well, Hungarian, as I’ve already mentioned, is not very familiar. After about 15 minutes of flipping through various manuals, some several inches thick, and with the assistance of a lady who spoke some Russian they informed me that they were unable to sell me my ticket as it had to be purchased in Budapest.
Dismayed I considered my options as they continued flipping through various charts and manuals and talking to someone over the phone. Finally they got back to me saying that yes, indeed, they could issue me the ticket. The whole process took another 45 minutes or so, largely because everything had to be done by hand, ever code looked up in some other form of manual, every price checked in another binder and every seat verified by yet another phone call. Overall, nearly $60 and over an hour later I had my ticket to Lwow which would take me via the aforementioned route on a 15 hour journey.
The most interesting part of it was in Nyiregyhaza where the train from Budapest and heading to Moscow was scheduled to stop for exactly a minute. My car was supposed to be 434. Thankfully the train didn’t have that many cars, but it was much longer than average and I could tell that none of the cars that stopped in front of me were the right ones. Thankfully a conductor stepped out of the train at precisely that moment and I was able to ask him where to go. As we proceeded along the platform in search of the appropriate car, the train began to whistle, not caring whether there were more people wanting to get on. The conductor quickly backtracked to the first car with an open
door, told me to get in and to follow him along the inside, through locked doors which he had to unbolt, others which he had to pound on to get the other conductors to open, and eventually 10 or so cars later told me I was finally in the right place. The train had seriously stopped for just one minute. Had it not been for the conductor, I would likely still be sitting in Nyiregyhaza.The other interesting part of the journey was the border crossing. The Hungarian side went quickly enough. The Ukrainian seemed to go likewise, but the border control lady managed to disappear with my passport. Afraid of the train leaving before my passport was returned, I desperately tried to stay away. Then the train began to move, but the conductor told me not to worry. Then the train stopped. Then the banging started; then the drilling; then the shoving; then more banging. This went on for probably 3 hours. When I finally poked my head out the window I could see these vise-like devices along either side of the tracks and a seemingly endless stack of spare train suspensions stacked on the tracks next to us. Turns out that the rail gauge in Hungary (and Western Europe) is
different from the one in the Ukraine and Russia. As such when you cross the border they have to conduct the adjustments. Whether this entails swapping out the entire suspension or simply readjusting the wheels, I have no idea. All I know is that it was very time consuming and that since I still didn’t have my passport back, I could not go to sleep.Eventually around 4am, we began to move again, went back into the station, and my passport was handed back to me with a nice red Ykpaiha stamp in it. About six hours later, we arrived in Lwow exactly on schedule.
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