Lost...

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Lausanne, to Mouchard...

We are in Luasanne, Switzerland. Switzerland! I never imagined I'd end up here, but the mountains are really beautiful. Still, Becky and I are both aware now that we are not supposed to be here. There is no energy, or flow. We feel as if we have temporarily lost a tangible connection with our sojourn vision. We sense and check out a few hotels, but nothing is coming together. We know the signs - everything is too hard and no answers are coming.

In my angst and exhaustion, I had relinquished much responsibility. Becky, I think, was more focused on serving, or perhaps, placating, me. We didn't sense the signs telling us we were moving out of flow. Neither of us were fully present and somehow we missed important cues. Now, we were stumbling. Still, we didn't want to be out of sync with Life, we didn't want the consequences that we know comes of that. We had a "powwow" and, despite my exhaustion, the late hour, and with Becky remaining firmly "pollyanna", we got back on the rail. I could hardly believe I was doing this.

Mouchard to St. Claude...

We get off the train in St. Claude late, it is after midnight, and there is no one in sight as we depart the station. We were told earlier by another commuter on the train, who was from St Claude, that a hotel was just across the street from the station. Seeing it, we walked to it. The entry held a self serve machine while a connecting door to the Lobby was closed and it seemed no one was there. I was looking at the kiosk when Becky goes to the door and pulls it open. I am surprised, and immediately uncomfortable, I grab the door before it closes, follow her in and ask what she is doing; that the sign indicates we are to use the self-serve. She is unconcerned. The door closes behind us and we discover that indeed there is no attendant in the lobby. In fact, we just locked ourselves in. Evidently the door had not latched when staff left through it earlier. It was now. All other doors were also locked accept those to the upper and lower floors where the rooms were. We can not get out. I flop down on a small sofa in the corner and eye it speculatively. It may be my bed for the night. I am not pleased.

Becky, still unconcerned, goes behind the desk and begins to rifle through the drawers. I start to sputter pointing at the security camera up in the corner. "Great, now we're criminals!" I exclaim. She laughs at me and continues to explore, finding room keys that we could use if we had to, assuming they were not already occupied. I considered how fun that could be. She points out that we really can not stay in the lobby; we really need to get out of there and get some rest. I join her and we eventually discover a key which turns out to be the one to the front lobby door. We return to the qiosk, pay for our room, get our key-card, come back in and replace the borrowed key. I smile and wave at the security camera.

It is then that I discover our room is upstairs. Up three floors of winding stairs. Why couldn't our rooms be on the garden level floor? Why even ask why? Though I have become a broken record: "I AM NOT CLIMBING ANY MORE STAIRS. I AM NOT!" and I mean it, I am almost always presented immediately with a situation that presents more stairs, and in such a way as there seems little choice but for me to climb them. As Becky easily cruises up them with her luggage I consider murder, but I need her - to carry mine. I bag that thought for now...

Our rooms were inexpensive, older and rather austere, but clean. There was a wall heater, but no heat (Outside temp: 50 degrees, 97% humidity - I think inside as well) Our one window is covered from the outside with heavy metal shutters due to the cold winter winds here. Twin beds are nestled next to each other in the small space. I opened the window and shutters to peer out to the street below in hopes of seeing something of the little town. Nada. But, I was also hoping for a hot shower for my aches and pains and I did get that.

It is Halloween, my favorite holiday of the year. I am disappointed to experience it this way. I try to focus on finding other things to be grateful for, I know there are, but can't seem to think of anything. I give up and go to bed. Maybe, things will be better demain. (French for tomorrow)

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Photos

Ter Rail, or Not Ter Rail
Ter Rail_"ter" is an acronym for Transport Express Régional, the brand name used by France’s national railway company, SNCF.

Leaving On the Night Train
Lausanne to Mouchard, France

Night Rider
Rail From Lausanne to Mouchard, France; Becky Trying to Rest

Not Much in Mouchard
Mouchard Station Stop on the Way to St. Claude

St Claude, France_Jura Hotel Across From Station
Peaceful and Quiet, No One Was Around

Jura Hotel _Vestibule and Lobby_St Claude, France
The One We Locked Ourselves Into

St Claude, France_ Jura Hotel
It was Plain, I was Cold, But it was Clean

Comments

[John Pratt Booker]

Spirit Calling
~ The Calling ~ I cried to the wind blowing past me today My Spirit swept by like a stranger, but looking Told a story and touched the earth Calling dead leaves and memories to the ground ~ Crisp, crackling and dancing across the stones Gathered in place to mark a garden It’s bringing me home I can hear the wind say Whistling between rocks that hold no green ~ I stand and wait for the sound of your feet The purpose that echoes in your stride Hearing my name from the calling of a distance Laughter welling up with my leaping to the gate ~ Running to the sound of my name in your whisper Calling me further to the source and away I thought it was me I heard among the leaves That spun and danced around my dreams ~ Tears welled up in my heart and eyes Clouding my vision and honing my sight To see that I wait for a dream that’s not ours But the calling is to me, by a chariot of wind ~ The footsteps I heard were my own, in a vision Their echoes, my calling and departure I held us here that kept you away Hearing but not listening who called ~ I thought it was me among my fears and hope In a dormant and untended garden But the love is real and the tears rejoicing Lifting to the sky, smiling goodbye and good journey ~ I reached to the wind blowing past me today My Spirit stood by like a friend, in waiting Tells a story and touches the sky Calling my soul in mind to waking April 1, 2009 John Pratt Booker