A Continental Train Ride, Cambridge and London

We left Budapest before dawn.  We had breakfast in Hungary, lunch in Czechoslovakia, dinner in Nazi Germany and breakfast the next day in Holland.  We had a sleeping compartment on the train, but sat in a closed compartment with other people during the daytime.  When the train came to the border of Nazi Germany at night, it turned out that we had no German visa.  I thought we would be forced to get off in the middle of nowhere.  But Mother tipped the conductor and he arranged everything for us.  

In our compartment there were two Swedes, who never spoke to us at all, a nice Hungarian gentleman, who spoke to Mother in German when the German official was not present.  The German official turned out to be a right-hand man to Hitler, a propagandist coming home from Bulgaria.  My Mother was reading Mein Kampf during this trip.  The German official may have thought she was interested in Nazism.  He harangued her throughout the trip, telling her how wonderful Hitler was, and Nazism in general.  Mother diplomatically said nothing. She just listened. The Hungarian and the German helped us off with our baggage in Berlin.  They nodded good- bye. It was scary seeing all those Nazi soldiers everywhere.  

We changed trains in Berlin, and continued our trip through Holland.  That country seemed very calm and peaceful in comparison, with its windmills, tulips, bicycles and little vegetable and flower gardens beside every house. 

The six hour boat ride from Holland to Harwich, England was very rough.  Almost everyone got seasick. Three English women helped Mother to pick up  dropped stitches in her knitting.  

In London we stayed at the Royal Palace Hotel, a very fancy one.  But Mother still had her cold, so she spent the first day in bed.  I lounged around, reading movie magazines.  I hoped to be a movie star some day. 

The next day we took a train to Cambridge, a one-hour trip which took two hours.  There we met Mr. Gambling, Uncle Jack’s father, a delightful old man, tall and thin, with a big, stiff mustache, sticking out on both sides of his face.  He owned a nursery business, but was also a magician.  He entertained children in hospitals, doing tricks for them.  He was a perfect host, first showing us around the Cambridge University campus and later he took us punting on the Cam River. I remember that as a lovely, restful interlude in our busy travels. It was very quiet and peaceful. The boats glided silently under overhanging branches of Weeping Willow trees.  Ducks swam by, close enough to be touched.  Every now and then the trees parted, letting in a view of the deserted, winding streets and the aristocratic, age-worn towers of Cambridge University. 

Before we left Cambridge, we were treated to “High Tea” in the Gambling’s sturdy, two-story house.  First we met old Mrs. Gambling, Uncle Jack’s mother.  She was small, rotund and stone deaf.  I think she was deaf from birth.  She and Mr. Gambling proudly showed us their garden behind the house before we sat down for “tea.”  The “tea” consisted of lettuce and tomatoes from their garden, lobster, beets, bread and butter, homemade cake and other cakes.  The grown-ups drank four cups of tea.  I don’t remember what I drank.  Perhaps hot chocolate?  I thought it was funny that they referred to this elaborate meal as a “tea” party. 

We did a lot of sightseeing in London.  Various friends drove us around.  We saw London in day and by night, but I don’t remember what we saw.  

Auntie Rita’s friend, Fred English and his tall, good-looking son Kenneth, with whom we had dined in London, came to see us off for Southampton.  Some other friend gave me a bouquet of flowers. 

We sailed from Southampton on the Nieux Amsterdam, a much larger ship than the Volendam.  We sailed tourist class and our cabin steward was not as much fun as Peter had been. We arrived at Hoboken, NJ at 5:30 p.m. on August 12.  Auntie Rita and my cousin John were waiting for us when we came through customs. We had been gone for more than a month.  It was an unforgettable experience.