“Somehow, we always find our way home”

Sometime in my childhood, I developed anxiety. It kicks in specifically when I get into situations where the next steps seems unclear. Luckily, when it comes to travel, I have had a few opportunities to learn a different perspective and optimism.

One of these is from the late 1990s. From the time that I was 9 years old, I would visit my grandparents in the Rhineland region (Germany) for a couple of weeks during the summer. My mom would put me on the direct train and my grandparents would pick me up about 3-4 hours later when I reached their train station. Same principle to get back. Quite simple, but I felt so proud and grown traveling by myself cross country.

During one of those trips (I must have been 10 or 11 years old), my grandparents and I were waiting on the platform of their small local train station for my train back home. Unfortunately, we were positioned in a way that we could not see the split flap display or hear the platform announcement properly. A couple of minutes before my departure time, a train pulled in next to us but none of us were clear if it was mine or not. My grandma set out to get closer and read the display and I already got a little nervous but stayed put.

My gut feeling was telling me that it was not the right train, but I had no real way of confirming. Suddenly, my grandfather’s confidence took over and he said, that it was surely my train and it would leave any minute now. So he pushed me through the open doors of the train. I started panicking and told him that I did not think that it was the right train. Just in that moment my grandmother reached us again and the doors closed. I could not even hear her anymore when the train started moving.

It took all of my adrenaline to get over my shyness and ask one of the closest passengers about the destination of that train. And for better or worse: My gut feeling had been right. It was an unlucky coincidence. My grandparents later found out that this train had been late and pulled into the station just a couple of minutes before my actual train.

But I was freaking out. I had no idea what to do in this kind of situation. What did train conductors do with people who did not have an actual ticket for a train? How was I going to get home from here? I started sobbing in the blink of an eye.

Luckily, I already had an emergency cell phone in the late 90s and pulled it out to call my grandparents. My grandmother was also super anxious in that moment, she had probably already yelled at my grandfather (“How could you put the child on the wrong train?”). She tried to keep calm though and help me as best as she could. With her direction, I started looking for the train conductor and told him in tears that I was on the wrong train and did not know how to get home. For better or worse, he was a stereotypical German public servant, unemotional, straight forward and a little rough around the edges. He even seemed a little annoyed. He showed no empathy, but informed me nonetheless that I was not actually riding without a ticket (“schwarz fahren”) since my ticket was not bound to a specific train but just the general direction. To get on my actual train, I needed to get-off at our next stop in Cologne and switch platforms. It would arrive a couple of minutes later. In theory, not the biggest deal in the world, but I was still freaking out. Could I do it? What if I missed it? How would I get home then?

Once we reached Cologne, I bolted out of the train, down and up the stairs and anxiously waited for my train. It arrived just as he had said and I could get on, find my seat and call my grandmother that I was okay and on the right track. I could hear her relief, but my grandfather probably still got an earful.

Admittedly, I was still in shock and overwhelmed with the situation and had a hard time calming down. An older gentlemen was sitting next to me, probably my grandparents’ age, and kindly asked me if I was okay. He had kind eyes and a warm and reassuring smile. So I told him about my recent adventure, which helped me process and calm my adrenaline. I told him that I had been afraid of getting lost and not finding my way home. To that, he smiled and said: “Irgendwie kommen wir immer nach Hause” (Somehow, we always find our way home). It was such a simple thing to say, but he said it with such confidence and certainty, that it filled me with a sense of calm and awe at the same time. And it has stuck with me ever since.

It took me another instance to learn not to worry as much to not reach my destination, but since then, there has always been a small voice in my head saying exactly that: Irgendwie kommen wir immer nach Hause. Somehow, we always find our way home.

How about you?
What travel experiences have given your more confidence and/or optimism?

Cover picture was taken in Virginia Beach, Virginia (USA) in Nov 2017