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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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