The morning started with a rush, as we all rolled out of bed terribly early to drive into town and see the Hamburg Fish Market, which is 'unlike anything you will see anywhere else' (to quote our hosts). Whilst appearing at face value to be just another market, the Sunday morning venue was packed with people who had all gathered to wander the stretch of harbour that hosts large trailers of produce, plants, clothing, meats, and other goods—but the vendors here have a unique way of selling their produce. One of the largest markets in Germany, historically speaking, the market originally sold fresh fish from the boats and the excessive amount of sellers made it difficult to attract the attention of buyers. Thus, the sellers began using their voices to gain the attention of pedestrians, and the tradition continues today—the larger stalls have salesmen pitching their goods to crowds at the top of their lungs. Often, the goods are sold in bundles for prices lower than you can get at the grocer, making it optimal to buy their large bags. The most famous fish salesman in the market had once again enraptured the growing cluster of attendees near his trailer, and we've filmed a bit of it for you to see! Except it happened to disappear before I could upload it... he was speaking German anyways, would have been a bit difficult to understand.
After wandering the stalls, we went to the indoor section of the market, which housed a live band and numerous coffee stalls. I don't typically (read: EVER) drink coffee, but this morning I accepted our host's offer and downed a cup of boiling, bitter caffeine to clear up my sinuses. The smoke from the game the day before had managed to burn out my sinus system, as well as JJ's, and the two of us were feeling a bit under the weather (massive understatement). We headed back to the house and packed our bags, preparing for a long journey ahead. Our scheduled travel included:
EasyJet Flight from Hamburg to London Luton: CHECK. After finding a parking spot, Hendrik, Sandra, JJ, and I got drinks at a cafe and killed the spare time. Our flight was a bit delayed, and caused more headache than necessary, even though we landed only a few minutes behind schedule. The flight attendants dismissed my concern about missing our train, but let's be honest—there is only a matter of seconds between being able to board a train and watching it leave the station. They must not take the train often...
Pass through customs: CHECK. Sort of. JJ, with her cute little British passport flew through the EU lines, and I got stuck behind some poor man who was blatantly the subject of racial profiling. In the ONLY non-EU passport line. And the man at the counter closed after dealing with him. And the man controlling the flow of people wouldn't let me switch lines. Where did he plan on sending non-EU citizens if there is no line?! Idiots....everywhere...
Bum a ride from Emma: CHECK. We met up with Emma after baggage claim and hopped in for our short ride to the Luton Station to catch a train. No bumps in this part of our trip!
Take the 19.48 train from Luton to Wimbledon. (fail). Poorly marked signs and mixed directions led us to believe that we needed the train to Sutton from Platform 2, because Platform 1 (the advised platform) had a train marked for Brighton. Following jokes about going straight to Brighton, the train left Platform 1, and we watched it leave as the PA announced (after the doors shut) that it was the 19.48 train to Sutton...
Great. We had made it through five countries and nearly five weeks without a missed train, bus, or flight. And now that we had returned to England, we had missed our first train. Following a few less that happy calls and checking the timetables, we boarded the 20.20 train to Sutton, got off at Wimbledon, and were greeted by Georgie and her dad, a very pleasing relief.
Take the 21.50 train from Wimbledon to Guildford...you should have figured out by now that this got scratched, much to my discontent (since these were the tickets I spent hours trying to book). Nevertheless, we reached G's house in perfect time for dinner (not...it was a bit more like midnight snack) and headed to bed after an excessively long day...
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| The river that runs next to Hendrik's house, and into Hamburg |
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