September 28, 2025, Krakow– “Where do I get the train to Krakow?”, I asked a conductor, after getting off the train that had brought me from Berlin to Poznan, in western Poland. “Go downstairs to Platform 10.”, was all she said. Many European train platforms have two tracks, which go in directions opposite each other. This reduces the need for multiple platforms, each with a track that only goes one way. I knew this, but looking at my watch, seeing it was close to departure for the Krakow train and seeing a train that lots of people were getting off and on, I put two and two together and got…five.

When I got to the cabin which had my seat number, I found it was occupied by a family of four, with the younger son in “my” seat. I went out of the cabin and was met by an older Polish woman, who “knew” that was my seat “by rights”. We got underway, with me in standage, where I was chatted up by a couple, who were happy that someone from Arizona was visiting Poland. The husband asked to look at my ticket, and gasped. “You go north now, instead of south! You must get off at next station, and catch train back to Poznan, then good luck getting to Krakow!” That explained the young boy sitting in his rightful seat.

I got off at the next station, reversed course, got on a Krakow-bound train from Poznan, and took my place among university students and poorer older adults, in Standage, all the way to Krakow, five hours south. Of course, I didn’t stand the whole way. I had my rolling suitcase, and a relatively clean section of floor on which to sit. When people needed to get on or off, at the ensuing stations, we in Standage had to make room for them. This made a few of the students quite surly-but surely they know this is part of the deal. Most, though, seemed concerned for one another, on a couple of occasions consoling those who were openly distraught. Not speaking Polish,I kept my mouth shut, the whole way, and was “welcomed” by the conductors, none of whom were concerned with why I was there.

I got to Krakow around 11 p.m. and caught a taxi to Meininger Hostel, part of a chain of hotels and hostels across central Europe. It is a lovely establishment, and while the city itself is rather tired of mass tourism, I was cheerfully welcomed by those I encountered on the street and at the hostel. I had the room to myself for the night, as the young man who was to be my roommate had his own tale of train woe and would not be arriving until early tomorrow morning. Thus, another decent end was found, to a strange day.