Category Archives: AD accessibility at European Train stations

AD accessibility at European Train stations, Hotel D Basel, Train issues in Europe

What do you mean you can’t get there from here? The Ramblers run into trouble on the Deutsche Bahn

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After enjoying an excellent breakfast at the Trois Rois, we checked out on Sunday morning. However we didn’t go far, about a city block. We had planned to stay another day in Basel, but instead of remaining at the formal and somewhat dark (and expensive) Trois Rois, I had found the Hotel D, a modern new hotel at a much lower price. Although it wasn’t directly on the Rhine, it did have suites that opened to a private terrace on the top floor. This was the room we booked and we did enjoy it. The terrace was large and gave us an expansive view of the Basel rooftops in several directions. We thoroughly enjoyed the one night we stayed there and wished we had been there all along.

We could see the Rhine from our terrace, as well as any number of charming buildings. It made for a wonderful afternoon.

There was was one fly in the ointment. No one had told us that almost everything closes on Sunday in Basel, except the churches and a few quick marts. And it was Sunday. When we asked about restaurants at the Hotel D desk, they told us there wasn’t much to choose from as they were almost all closed. Even the COOP where we planned to go for lunch was closed. So what to do? The hotel staff said there was one restaurant that was open and it was right across the street, The Bombay. Guess we were going to have Indian food for dinner.

The senior Rambler is not an adventurous eater, but I convinced him that I could find something on their menu he would like, and…it really was our only choice. For lunch we went to to the corner grocery/quick mart and bought an assortment of snacks and fruit to tide us over. Our room also had a well stocked mini-bar that was included in the room charges, so we spend the afternoon on the terrace enjoying the view while we munched on our snacks.

On the street level there was a corner store with good quality fruit and other snacks which tided us over during a delightful afternoon. Our room also had a well-stocked mini-bar which was included with the price of the room.

We could see from our room when the Bombay opened and we decided to have an early dinner, so we headed across the street. Since it was early, the restaurant wasn’t crowded and we were seated at a table for two with a wonderful view of the Rhine. We scanned the menu and I suggested a few entrees that were not too spicy for the senior Rambler. Fortunately he enjoyed my selections which were served family style. This Rambler enjoys spicy food, and my entree was excellent, especially washed down with an icy Indian beer.

The New Bombay Restaurant, with the Rhine in the background.

While we ate, we watched Sunday activity on the Rhine. First were the old fashioned ferries; Basel has four. For a modest fee you can traverse the Rhine in a small vessel, pushed across by the current going one way, and by a cable in the other. The ferries were quaint but we had no desire to ride in one as we had enough trouble with the gondola the day before.

What was even more fun was watching swimmers float down the Rhine pulled along by the current. Evidently this is a summer tradition in Basel when the water warms up. This is the way it works. The swimmer rents a Wickelfisch, a swim bag/float for about 30 Swiss francs. Clothing covering the bathing suit is packed in the waterproof bag, it is sealed shut and it is time to get into the water. The Wickelfisch, which looks sort of like a fish, acts as as both float and clothing bag during the mile or so most float down the Rhine. The most popular stop is a series of steps where swimmers dry off, chat with friends for a while, get dressed and return their bag before heading home.

From our window table we could watch the ferries cross the Rhine and the swimmers floating along with their Winkelfisch.

All in all, we enjoyed our stay in Switzerland very much, especially at the Hotel D, and the senior Rambler had a chance to rest his back before we began our journey home. Unfortunately I chose to get us back to Amsterdam and our flight home by train instead of flying from Basel to Schiphol. We had enjoyed train travel twenty years ago, when we spent 6 weeks in Europe, and it seemed like a good chance to see more delightful landscapes from a train window. BUT that was twenty years ago, and most of our travel was done without luggage.

What had seemed like a good idea a few months ago, now didn’t seem like such a good idea. What we should have done is booked an Easy Jet flight back to Amsterdam, but we didn’t. The first minor issue was to make sure we went to the right station. Basel has two, one was for mainly local travel and the other served international travelers. Our taxi driver spoke good English and dropped us off at the right one, but when I showed my ticket to the person on duty, he seemed somewhat agitated. Unfortunately he didn’t speak English so I didn’t understand what he was saying. We shrugged and turned to get to the platform. Then the lack of handicap accessibility hit us. There was no elevator…we had a choice of steep stairs or a steep ramp. Since we had our luggage, 2 carry-ons and a larger check-bag, we had no choice but to take the ramp. It was a struggle and we finally got to the top, my asthma had kicked in and it took a while to catch my breath.

But there was worse to come. Once on the platform, we learned from a friendly young man, what the agent was trying to tell us. There had been a cave-in on the line and all trains were being re-routed. What I had thought would be a scenic ride to Frankfort where we would have ample time to find our connecting train, turned into a nightmare of transferring from train to bus to train and finally getting on one that would take us to Frankfort. Keep in mind, that none of these stations had handicap accessible platforms… If it hadn’t been for the kindness of many German passengers we were being re-routed with, we might still be in Basel. LOL As it turned out, they helped us with our luggage, carrying it up or down the ubiquitous ramps for us, until we finally boarded a train that would take us to Frankfort where we would catch our train to Amsterdam, or so we thought. The bus connection was the worst as it was a fairly long ride and the bus was crowded; we were not the only ones being routed. The Ramblers did get to see more of the area, but not in the way we had expected.

When we finally reached Frankfort, it was obvious we had missed our scheduled connection but the railway guide who met the train with a welcome wheelchair, assured us he would take us to the platform where we would finally get aboard our train to Amsterdam, or so we thought. He instructed us to board the next train that pulled in, and even placed us in what was supposed to be the right boarding stop. When the train arrived, we got on, luggage in tow, and sat down. However, when the Russian lady conductor checked our tickets, she tried to tell us we were on the wrong train. However, we didn’t understand her. We were on the WRONG TRAIN and it was really the wrong train. It turned out to be a local commuter train and before we realized what was happening, we were the only people on board, and the train as stopped at a siding. A German railway worker came through and told us we would have to get off, as the train was going nowhere. We would have to find another train to get back to Frankfort and find the right train again.

When he opened the door, we saw that there was now a big drop to the ground, we were nowhere near the platform. When the railwayman saw our difficulty, he brought a ladder, and we carefully climbed down while he and a young student who would help us get back to Frankfort took our luggage. But that was only the first step. We had to climb over a series of tracks and a 2 1/ 2 ft. brick platform wall to get to the station. I really struggled to get over the wall, my repaired hips don’t flex like they used to. Fortunately my helper was a large guy and with me pushing and him pulling we got me over the barrier.

Unfortunately when we finally reached the station our young guide told us there wouldn’t be another train until morning. Staying there overnight was not an option as our flight was the next morning. We had to get to Amsterdam!

Waiting for the train that had already left…

In fact, our only option was to get a Taxi to drive us to Frankfort. It would be expensive but at this point we had no choice. Thanks to our kind student, he was finally able to find a driver who would take us back to Frankfort. Thanking our friend, we boarded the taxi and settled back for a fairly long ride. However, there was another problem. Our driver wanted to be paid in cash. We had few Euros left as we were leaving the next day. Since the Senior Rambler’s back was hurting again, I set out to find an ATM. By now it was rush hour and the station was crowded with commuters, but I finally located an ATM machine only to find it was broken, and the next wouldn’t accept my card. Trudged back to where the driver was waiting and told him I would have to find a bank. AT this time, a tall German came to my aid, assuring me that there were ATM’s close bay and he would take me there. And so he did, but I had a hard time keeping up with his quick pace. Evidently he didn’t spend much time with senior citizens. LOL Anyway, the first ATM didn’t work, so we went around the corner to another bank. By this time, I was really dragging and tripped on the bank step, falling and slamming my right arm into the glass door of the bank. As I lay there like a beached whale, surrounded by a small group of concerned Germans, adrenaline kicked in. I asked for a hand up, and headed towards the ATM machine which did work. Thanking yet another kind guide, I headed back to the waiting taxi, and paid the driver.

We were back in Frankfort but still had to get to Amsterdam by tomorrow morning. Not wanting to make the another mistake, we headed to Traveler’s Assistance where we explained what had happened and where we needed to go. But nothing went right that day. The last train to Amsterdam had already departed and there wouldn’t be another until 6 AM. That one should get us to Amsterdam in time to make our flight but it was now 8:30 in the evening. Because our problems were caused by the railroad, they offered to put us up at a hotel by the station. The Ramblers didn’t have much choice and we accepted the voucher, assured that the hotel was only a short distance away. We also had a ticket and information for the morning train to Amsterdam.

Now to find the hotel. The area around the Frankfort main train station is somewhat run down, the further away we walked the worse it got and we couldn’t find the hotel listed on the voucher. We were still dragging our roller bags, it was warm, we were dog tired and my arm was smarting. This was a very low point in the Ramblers’ travel experiences. I guess we should have been glad it wasn’t raining.

Sometimes God looks out for idiots, as we were stopped by a man wearing a Hawaiian shirt who noticed the two bedraggled Ramblers. It turned out he was a fellow American who was familiar with the area and would help us find the hotel. Of course it turned out that our hotel had been bought out by the Mercure chain which had changed its name. We had walked past it several times…To make matters worse, it was being remodeled. Thanking our angel in a Hawaiian shirt, we checked in and found that our “free” room was a long way off through an area that was under construction. It was tiny, and the twin beds were among the smallest we had ever seen.

It was now almost 9 PM, we hadn’t had anything to eat and didn’t feel like going out, but we had seen a McDonald’s close by. We got some burgers and headed back to our dumpy room. They were among the worst we ever had, which was par for the course. By now my right arm was a deep purple blue, and I had some interesting bruises on other parts of my anatomy. I always wear long sleeves when we travel; either keeps the sun off or keeps you warm. The shirt I was wearing was blue chambray, at this point my arm was the same color as the shirt.

The Ramblers didn’t want to miss the train to Amsterdam so we had a wake-up call for 4 AM and decided to take a taxi to the station even tho it was not far. We judged rightly that the people still roaming the streets at were not any we wanted to meet. This was confirmed by our taxi driver.

This time we found the right track and sat down to wait for boarding. The conductor looked at our ticket and felt we deserved an upgrade to first class for all our troubles. Finally, we experienced the train ride I had anticipated, as we sped through quaint small towns, and green countryside dotted with windmills. Unfortunately by this time we were too tired to appreciate it. But even now there was trouble in paradise. We were joined in our compartment by a young South Korean student who told us her computer had been stolen from her lap while she dozed off. Fortunately the thief hadn’t gotten her passport but this was a big loss for her. So I guess you need to be careful even on an upscale express train in first class.

We did get to the airport on time, and made our flight although the KLM people wanted me to go to urgent care first. By this time it was obvious to me that I had some cracked ribs to go with the blue arm. If I had gone, we would have missed our flight and there really wasn’t much they could do for me. So we boarded on time, had a decent flight although it seemed very long to this Rambler. We were super glad to have wheelchair service but even more glad to see our daughter Lisa waiting for us at arrivals. It was an unfortunate ending to what had been a great trip until then.

Home at last!

PS Went to Urgent care, had X-ray, had cracked my arm. When swelling went down, I got a cast that matched my arm.

AD accessibility at European Train stations, Riding trains in Germany

Special Post – Riding German trains in the summer of 2017

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Before we get back to beautiful Provence,  the Ramblers would like to publish a special post on a recent experience we had while traveling this summer. We enjoyed another river cruise a few weeks ago which ended in Basel, Switzerland. The Rambler had decided that it might be fun to take the train from Basel to Amsterdam where we were scheduled to fly home. All the other (sensible) persons on our cruise extension flew from Basel to Amsterdam or wherever they would board their connecting flight home. We alone stayed an extra day, and very relaxing it was at the Hotel D one street over from the Rhine.

View from our covered terrace, the Rhine is to the left and we looked down at Les Trois Rois where we had stayed for the Uniworld extension in Basel.

We spent the whole day taking it easy, mainly enjoying the view from the terrace of our top floor room.  Although we had planned to pick up lunch at the excellent department store on the Basel main square, the COOP, we learned that almost everything in Basel closed on Sunday, including most of the restaurants.  Fortunately the corner store next to our hotel was open and we were able to buy snacks and wine while the Indian restaurant across the street recommended by the hotel, was open for dinner.  The next morning , after enjoying some great pastry from a nearby bakery, we took a taxi to the train station, first making sure we went to the correct one. There are two, one German, one Swiss.

The Indian restaurant where we had dinner. Our table overlooked the Rhine.

Unfortunately  we got an unpleasant surprise when we got to the Basel Bad Bahnhof.  Because of a tunnel cave-in, all trains leading out of Basel in the direction we were going had been cancelled. Our only option according to the gentleman in the office (who spoke little English) was to take the next train, a special not on the schedule, which left in 4 minutes. From there we would have to make a series of transfers in order to get to Amsterdam that evening.

What we should have done was given up on the train right then and there and tried to get a flight to Amsterdam from the Basel airport.

But we didn’t. The Ramblers were dismayed when we saw that the only handicap access was a steep 50 ft ramp to the platform above. The senior Rambler had hurt his back getting off a gondola at Mount Pilatus the day before and was in pain. He also couldn’t walk very fast.  Although I tried my best  to get up the ramp as quickly as possible, the train pulled away as I neared  the top.

Evidently there would be another such train in an hour so we settled down to wait.  Sweaty and exhausted from the climb up the seemingly endless ramp, we sat glumly on a nearby bench and waited. The only other person waiting was a young man looking at his phone. I decided to see if he might be able to give us more information. As it turned out, Thomas was one of many helpful Germans who helped us surmount the seemingly endless obstacles that we had to face that day.

The travel I had originally  booked  had only one connection, first taking a train from Basel to Koln. There  after  a leisurely connection of several hours, we would board another train that would take us to the Amsterdam Centraal Station. There we could get a taxi to our club level room at the Renaissance Marriott on Kattegat street.

What we got instead was a series of transfers from train to bus to train before we finally ended up in Frankfurt. There we were reassured that we could take a train that would get us to Amsterdam that evening.  Each connection involved moving our increasingly exhausted selves and our luggage up and down a seemingly endless series of stairs. Fortunately every time we needed help, a smiling German stepped forward to carry our bags up or down the stairs.

Before going any further, the Ramblers can’t stress enough that if you have trouble with stairs or walking , DO NOT take the train in Germany or most other countries in Europe. The ADA facilities that we are used to in the US are simply not available except in the larger cities. This does not apply to the TGV or other high speed trains or if your destination is a large city, but everywhere else, you are not likely to find many elevators, except perhaps for bicycles and strollers. Instead there will be stairs and fairly steep ones at that.

When we got to Frankfurt we breathed a sigh of relief as one of the DB service employees helped the senior Rambler into a wheelchair and took us to the track platform where we would board the train to Amsterdam. We were still hopeful that we would get to Amsterdam that evening, but we were wrong…

Don’t know why I didn’t think of this then, but NEVER accept the word of a railroad employee that the train which arrives is going where you want to go. If I had only asked one of the people waiting to board,  if the train was going to Amsterdam, we would have avoided considerable discomfort and expense. But I didn’t. And so…

Frankfurt station, the first time…where we waited for the wrong train!

The conductress who looked at our tickets after we boarded  seemed confused, but she spoke Russian not English and this did not help. So we watched most of the people get off the train at various stations until we were the only people in the car. This seemed odd, but I didn’t realize that we had made an unfortunate mistake until a German railway employee walked into the car and told us we would have to get out because this was the end of the line. We were stuck on a siding by a small town and had actually boarded a local that had taken us in the wrong direction. After we explained that we couldn’t jump down from the car, the helpful trainman brought a little ladder that allowed us to get down, and he and another helpful young German got us over the tracks. Yes, we had to climb over a series of tracks and a concrete barrier (almost didn’t make that one) to get to the end of the station platform. Now what…

Our current guardian angel checked his phone regarding possible trains but it turned out we were stuck there unless we hired a taxi to take us back to the Frankfurt station. We agreed that it was our only option and he found a taxi driver who was willing to make the long drive. Although it cost 134 Euros, we were happy to at least get back to Frankfurt where we had a fighting chance to get to Amsterdam that night.

Unfortunately our troubles weren’t over. Our taxi driver wouldn’t accept our credit card, he wanted to be paid in Euros. We could understand this but had few Euros left at the end of the trip, so I had to find an ATM. It was up to me to locate one, as the senior Rambler found walking painful. WhenI finally found a machine in the station, it wouldn’t take my card. I went back to the senior Rambler and the cabby and he pointed out several banks across the street. Then yet another friendly German offered to take me to an ATM across a very busy street, but when we got there, that bank was closed. We tried another one and it didn’t work. By this time, I was pretty frustrated and wasn’t watching where I was going. Thus I tripped and fell into the bank that had a working ATM. Our helpful friend was concerned that I had hurt myself, but I just wanted to be helped up so I could get to that darn ATM. I had slammed my right arm hard against the door and hit the step with my ribs but adrenaline had kicked in and all we  wanted was to get on the right train to Amsterdam ASAP.

Our taxi driver happily paid off, we headed into the busy Frankfort station and went immediately to the information counter. There I showed the DB representative our tickets and explained what had happened and that we needed to get to Amsterdam to catch our plane tomorrow at 1 PM.  Silence… The manager was called. He looked at our tickets and heard our tale of woe. More silence…

Finally he told me that we wouldn’t be able to get to Amsterdam that evening because the next train didn’t leave until 5:30 AM.  It turned out there was one other option but it would involved at least 3 changes and a bus, and we were not up for this. He told us the DB would pay for a hotel close to the station and we would be able to get to Amsterdam by 9:30 if we took that early train. Since this was our only option at this point, we glumly headed for our hotel. We had wanted to take a taxi but he assured us that it was very close.

The exhausted Ramblers trudged out of the station, this was surely the worst experience we had ever had…but it was not over. We had to walk through a very seedy area to get to the hotel and walked right past the hotel because the manager had given us the wrong name. The senior Rambler now had to pull both bags because it was obvious that my arm was probably broken as it had turned amazing shades of black and blue. A gentleman from Florida saw that we needed direction and helped us find the hotel several blocks back. Not the Kaiserhof but the Mercure, and a fairly spartan one at that. However it was clean and they were able to print out our boarding passes. Of course our DB rooms were at the far end of a very long corridor. We picked up a couple of the worst McDonald burgers we have ever had–par for the course, since we hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was now 9 PM.  As we stretched out on our tiny twin beds, I thought longingly of our club level room at the Marriott which I had been unable to cancel.  However, we did go to sleep, but not for long with a 4 AM wake-up call.

After another taxi ride to the Frankfort station, the area seemed even seedier at 4:30 AM than it had last night. We found our platform and waited for yet another train to arrive. This time I asked several people waiting for the train if this was the train to Amsterdam. It was, and we were happy to board. The head conductor helped us with our baggage and put us in a first class compartment for all our trouble. At last, we were on our way, and if we were lucky, we would make our flight.

It was a beautiful morning and the final leg of our trip unfolded as I had imagined when I booked our trains. We traveled through tidy farms and villages, and I even spotted a few old-fashioned windmills. Half-way through, we were joined by a pleasant Korean girl who had been visiting Germany. She too had experienced bad luck on the DB as while she dozed off on her previous connection, someone had stolen her backpack with laptop inside. Fortunately she had her passport on her person, but it was not a pleasant experience for her.

This time our train rolled into Amsterdam Centraal on time. We had another long walk to the taxi stand, but readily found a taxi which would take us to Schipol. We arrived at the airport with plenty of time to check in. All we can say about our train experience in Germany is Never Again!

This is what we looked like when we arrived in Atlanta, we were really happy to be home.