Sunday came and went and still no word from Uta. In my mind, I had a thousand different reasons why she had vanished – everything from medical emergency to con artist – but without any information, it was all speculation.
I wanted to get to Bern early, both to take in the new sights, but also to check in with the office and let them know that I was there and ready to work. I didn't want to miss this opportunity and the pay was amazing. If I was frugal and restrained myself, I could finish up the gig with over $6,000 in the bank. My mind kept flipping back and forth between worrying about Uta and thinking of how well I'd be living with that kind of money.
Having no other real choice, I made the decision to head to Switzerland the next morning. After breakfast, I went down to the train station and bought a ticket to Bern. The train left at 06:40 and was a 7-hour trip with a stop in Zurich. I figured I should put together a snack bag for a ride that long, so the next stop was the local grocery store.
My mind kept flashing back to picnics with Uta and wanting her to join me for a couple of days in Bern. The emotional roller coaster in my head was driving me insane, but I was stuck between two hard choices.
I picked up a loaf of fresh bread, some cream cheese, and assortment of cold cuts, a small onion, a small jar of pickles, and two large bottles of B&E beer. When I got back to my room, I began assembling a masterful sandwich, and it was all I could do to keep from eating it right then. I sliced it and wrapped it, and put it in the shopping bag with the beer and the wine I had taken from the hotel. I also made sure my bottle opener and cork screw were easy to get to in one of the outer pockets of my pack. There was nothing worse than having beer and wine and no way to get at it.
It was only noon by the time I had finished my preparations and I sat on the edge of the bed, once again replaying every moment with Uta in my head, trying to remember any detail that would lead me to find her. Nothing came.
I didn't want to spend my day under a cloud of depression and what-ifs, so I went out for a walk and ended up at the local pub. It was quiet – only two men sitting in the corner having an impassioned discussion about something – so I sat at the bar and ordered Bratkartoffeln and a liter of beer.
I spent the time staring out the window or inventorying the bottles behind the bar or contemplating the odd wax waterfalls from the candles that seemed to always be lit any time of the day or night.
When I had finished, I walked again for a while. A couple of times, and Opal similar to Uta's would fly by, but both had male drivers and no passengers, and my heart would sink again. At one point, I realized I had strayed out of familiar territory without paying much attention. I retraced my steps until I recognized my surroundings, and eventually wound up at the front of my zimmerfrei.
It was only about 17:00, but I took a shower and climbed into bed, not having the motivation to do anything else. I pulled out the book I had bough nearly two months ago, noted that I had only made it about a quarter of the way into it, and began reading until I fell asleep.
CHIRP! CHIRP! CHIRP!
The sound of my alarm put me in an immediate funk. This was the day I was leaving Munich and I didn't want to go, despite the incredible opportunity that awaited me. I sat up and stayed there for a moment. It was 04:30, and the world outside was still blissfully asleep. I finally forced myself to my feet, got dressed, got my gear together, made a last pass through the room, then headed downstairs.
Amazingly, Tomas was already busy setting up for breakfast, looking fresh and dapper in his uniform.
"Buenos dias, Senor Rex," he said cheerily. "I am sorry you are leaving us today. Would you like breakfast before your leave?"
I looked at my watch. Still plenty of time. "Yes, please," I replied. "I am sorry to be leaving, as well. I really enjoyed staying here."
"Thank you," Tomas replied. "I hope you will come back again."
He disappeared into the kitchen and returned quickly with fresh coffee, rolls, cheese, and cold cuts. I ate slowly, not feeling particularly hungry, but I knew it would be a long train ride. When I had finished, I shook Tomas' hand and offered him a tip, but he politely refused it, saying it was his pleasure to serve.
I went to the front room, where Matron was already busy arranging the day's business.
"Thank you for coming back, Herr Rex. I hope we will see you again in the near future," she said, offering a small platter with the bill on it.
"Of course, Ma'am," I said. "And I will recommend your zimmerfrei to anyone coming to Munich," I promised.
I paid the bill, which was very reasonable, considering the service and comfort I had enjoyed. We exchanged another round of goodbyes and I gathered my gear and headed out.
"I called a taxi for you, Senor," Tomas said, as I looked with amazement at the car waiting at the curb for me. I thanked him profusely and got in, and within minutes was at the station. It was 06:00, and the train was not yet at the platform. I sat at a café, ordered more coffee and began to read. When the train arrived, I waiting for the crowd to get down, then wedged my way onto the car, trying to maneuver my gear and snack bag through the narrow passage until I found an empty compartment. I lifted my pack up on the overhead rack, then took a seat next to the window.
A young couple came in behind me, twittering excitedly about their trip to Switzerland. I felt at once jealous and sunken, thinking that might have been Uta and me. I took out my book and buried myself in a distant world of fiction to quiet my mind.
As the train pulled out, I watched Munich go by at increasing speed. I saw the theatre from a distance and struggled to keep memories securely tied down. It didn't work, and tears started to well up in my eyes. I did my best to hide my face, but it didn't matter. The couple were completely engrossed in each other, paying no attention to me or anything else around them.
The trip was uneventful. I did my best to ignore the couple, who spent the entire time giggling and playing kissy face. I came to resent them, for no particular reason other than the were having fun and I was in a dark mood. I read at my book, ate at my sandwich, drank at my beer, but didn't really focus on any of it.
Outside, the scenery slowly changed until we were gliding through incredible mountain vistas. There were several brief stops, one being a tiny village in the middle of a soft, verdant valley located about half a kilometer from the station. The views were stunning and I wished I had a camera several times. I even began writing imaginary letters to friends and family to keep my mind busy.
At a little after noon, we pulled into Zurich. It was a gorgeous city laid out around a lake and surrounded by craggy mountains. The sky was crystal clear and cobalt blue. I almost wanted to get off and explore this place, but I restrained my impulse and continued ignoring the couple across from me.
At a little after 14:00, I saw the outskirts of Bern sliding by the window. It started with sparse houses and a few cars, and slowly built into a bustling city of closely packed houses and busy roads. Then suddenly, the view gave way to the city center, dominated by a huge Gothic cathedral in the center, surrounded by buildings that seemed frozen in time for the past 400 years.
I was transfixed by the scene, forgetting everything else. It was like a medieval tapestry hung outside the window, with the sparkling afternoon sun lighting up the steeple of the cathedral that dominated the city.
My rapture was interrupted by the walls of the station house as we pulled in. I was suddenly thrown back into the present day, with the steel framework and bustling activity of a busy transportation hub.
After squeezing my way off the train, I stood on the platform for a moment getting my bearings. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't done any research on where to stay or what to do in Bern. I had been out of contact with the backpacking crowd the entire time I was in Munich, and that was generally the best way to get intel on new places.
I dug the address of the production company out of my wallet and geared up to go in search of a taxi. I found one straight away and climbed in. I showed the driver the address and he sped off before I could get fully situated, throwing me back in the seat.
We wound through a maze of streets, past buildings that were museum pieces of architecture. My first impressions of Bern were very exciting. The taxi screeched to a halt in front of a fairly modern building that looked out of place for its surroundings. On the front was a small sign that read OLEANDER PRODUCTIONS. I paid the driver, collected my things and got out. I went up the short flight of steps to the front door and pushed my way inside.
The lobby was ultra-hip neon and chrome, very moody and artsy. A woman about my age sat that the reception desk.
"Good afternoon," she said in a very proper British accent. I had spoken German for so long that I struggled to find the correct response.
"Hello," I said. "My name is Rex Greathouse. I'm here to crew on the Bond film. Sorry, I know I'm a bit early."
"Certainly," she said. "Who would you like to see?"
"I'm supposed to report to Andy," I said, reading the notes that I had.
"Just a moment," she replied. "Please take a seat, I'll ring him."
I looked around at the severe, angular ultra-hip arm chairs and elected to stand instead. The receptionist picked up the phone, dialed, waited, then said, "There's a Rex Greathouse to see you." She paused. "He is crewing for the Bond project." She paused a moment then hung up.
"Andy will be out in a moment. Would you care for a cup of tea?"
"Not just yet, thanks, but I would like to use the toilet if I may."
"Yes, of course. Just down the hall on the right," she waved vaguely at the other side of the room.
"Thank you," I said. "May I leave my gear here?"
She eyed the large pack and shopping bag, then said, "Of course. Just leave it there. It will be fine."
I thanked her and made my way to the toilet. I returned just as a rather unique character came out of a door behind the reception desk.
"Hellooooo, darling," the creature said. "I'm Andy."
Andy was of medium height with curly light brown hair worn in mop fashion. He had rectangular dark-rimmed glasses, a very loud polyester shirt with wide open collar, and shy blue polyester pants, finished off with titanium white clogs. He was the embodiment of tragically hip Euro trash artiste types and the only thing missing was a beret.
"Hi, I'm Rex," I said holding out my hand. Andy reached out and brushed the palm of my hand with his fingers and withdrew his hand. "I'm here for the Bond gig. Sorry, I know I'm early, but my gig in Munich wrapped up and I thought I'd spend a few days exploring Bern.
"Wonderful, darling," Andy said with exaggerated smarminess. "We can do your paperwork tomorrow and get the dirty stuff out of the way. Where are you staying, darling?"
"Actually, I was hoping for a recommendation. I left Munich without making any solid plans."
"Oh, no trouble at all," he said. "Why don't you stay at the crew house up the street? It's empty now, so you'll have it all to yourself," his eyes twinkled ominously. "Sarah, won't you make arrangements for Rex?" Looking back at me, "Why don't you come round at 10 tomorrow morning and we'll get you signed up."
"Great! Thank you!" I said, feeling somewhat relieved, though this character made me a bit nervous with the way he looked at me, as if appraising a side of beef.
"Wonderful, darling," he gushed. "Sarah will get you situated then and I'll see you in the morning."
He turned and glided back through the rear door. I looked at Sarah, who was busy writing on a notepad. She opened a drawer and pulled out a key and handed both paper and key to me.
"The Bunkhouse is just behind this building. Go out," she gestured the entire process. "Turn right, then right again. You'll find it just at the opposite corner. The key will get you in the front door, and works for your room as well," she indicated the room number on the note.
"Thank you very much," I said and she smiled wanly in response. I gathered up my gear and headed out. What Sarah had failed to mention was that the block was quite long. I was huffing up the slight incline, then nearly jogging down towards the far corner after I finally reached the next street. Going downhill, the block was quite a bit shorter, thankfully, and I reached the Bunkhouse with no problem. I knew it was the right place, because it had a small sign over the door that read THE BUNKHOUSE.
I let myself in to find a large sitting area with a television and a small open kitchen. There was a single door at the back of the room. I tried it, but it was locked. I used the key and it worked. Inside, there were several doors along a hallway leading to a set of stairs. The doors had numbers on them, and mine was #4, which I was grateful to find was on the ground floor.
The room was sparsely furnished. There was a double bed with the sheets and blanket folded neatly in a pile on one corner. Against the wall was small writing desk with a lamp, and next to it was a tiny refrigerator with a water dispenser sitting on top of it. On the opposite wall was a plain armois with several shelves on one side, and a rack with three barely functional wire hangars on the other. I shoved my pack into it and set my shopping bag on the writing table. I made up the bed and looked around for a cup to hold the water, but found none. Instead, I opened the second bottle of beer, sat on the edge of the bed, and wondered what the hell to do next.