The mountain town of Moutier is such that it always feels like I'm returning home somewhat. Mostly because I have some old family friends here that I love to visit.
Unfortunately, the weather has ceased to be golden sun and warmth, and turned to lead-grey skies with a seriously arresting chill in the air. Even the locals are noticing the severity, that they are bid stay at home aside the fire with a nice rouge and a little chocolàt. Now I recommend all to read Kafka. Not only is it well written and classic literature, but it gives one a veritable idea of how someone may feel losing, and attempting to regain, a rail pass. Mrs. Berger (my contact at the SBB headquarters) was very helpful-sounding, saying she'd sort it out and ring me with instructions on how to receive a new pass "tonight or first thing tomorrow". Of
course she didn't so I rang the office today only to discover that she wasn't working for two days. "Michael" informed me that he knew naught of the issue, and when I politely pressed him to get the hell on to it and find out toute-de-suite, he said that they hadn't managed to contact the controller who originally confiscated the pass. I bade him do that very thing, and be quick about it, and he seemed to say he'd think about it. Meanwhile, an email came to me from my friend Laura (whose number I'd left the SBB as a contact) saying they'd called and that the pass was indeed fine all along, and that the controller had ballsed up - as I had recounted to him at the very time he sought to confiscate the thing.
So now I have conflicting stories, workers that promise one thing then piss off for the week, agents that agree to help then sit around with their thumb up their arse and controllers who take things so by-the-book they lose their reason then call the wrong number and say something that isn't correct anyway.
Switzerland, you are in grave danger of falling from the lofty peak I have esteemed you to. They of course blame it all on the French agent who issued it initially, as a humorous analogy to our rugby loss.
I'll get it back, but boy I'll have to work for it.
Unfortunately, the weather has ceased to be golden sun and warmth, and turned to lead-grey skies with a seriously arresting chill in the air. Even the locals are noticing the severity, that they are bid stay at home aside the fire with a nice rouge and a little chocolàt. Now I recommend all to read Kafka. Not only is it well written and classic literature, but it gives one a veritable idea of how someone may feel losing, and attempting to regain, a rail pass. Mrs. Berger (my contact at the SBB headquarters) was very helpful-sounding, saying she'd sort it out and ring me with instructions on how to receive a new pass "tonight or first thing tomorrow". Of
course she didn't so I rang the office today only to discover that she wasn't working for two days. "Michael" informed me that he knew naught of the issue, and when I politely pressed him to get the hell on to it and find out toute-de-suite, he said that they hadn't managed to contact the controller who originally confiscated the pass. I bade him do that very thing, and be quick about it, and he seemed to say he'd think about it. Meanwhile, an email came to me from my friend Laura (whose number I'd left the SBB as a contact) saying they'd called and that the pass was indeed fine all along, and that the controller had ballsed up - as I had recounted to him at the very time he sought to confiscate the thing.
So now I have conflicting stories, workers that promise one thing then piss off for the week, agents that agree to help then sit around with their thumb up their arse and controllers who take things so by-the-book they lose their reason then call the wrong number and say something that isn't correct anyway.
Switzerland, you are in grave danger of falling from the lofty peak I have esteemed you to. They of course blame it all on the French agent who issued it initially, as a humorous analogy to our rugby loss.
I'll get it back, but boy I'll have to work for it.
2 comments:
You first visited Moutier when you were 4 months old. You sat in the sun, halfway up a minialp in a wildflower meadow, watching the cloud puffs, listening to the distant tinkle of cow bells and you gurgled with joy. Maybe a distant corner of your memory is stirred when you return...but that Swiss bureacracy is well known for being overloaded and inept...as the unfortunate incident of the railpass confiscato shows. They may be able to sail boats without a coastline but ask them to cash a cheque and it's a sad and serious mission. B
I am enjoying every sumptious sentence of your travelblog matt and can't wait for the next episode. To find the humour in the most banal and frustrating of situations is a pricless gift and a lesson to rest of us! I love it.
By now, having got back railpass you must now be in prague which to me is a bit mysterious, having not ventured that far east europe myself. I look forward to your report, and hopefully the odd pic.
Good onya me son!
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