Switzerland

By Liz Gard
This item appears on page 55 of the April 2013 issue.
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Getting off the train from Interlaken, Switzerland, to Montreux in June ’12, just 11 days into our 3-week Swiss trip, my husband, Jerry, and I were gathering our things together when I said, “Where’s my Kindle?” We searched everywhere, and I determined that I had left it on my seat when we changed trains.

We reported the loss to the railroad people in Montreux. We also emailed our son back in the US, telling him to shut off access to the Kindle so a finder could not download books and charge our credit card. Meanwhile, there was nothing to do but carry on.

The next day, Sunday, we had no definite plans, though Jerry wanted to see the fountain in Geneva. We decided to have lunch there, too. We took the train, which was covered by our Swiss Pass.

The train platform was empty except for one American man and his two teenage daughters. His “Florida” T-shirt was enough to start our conversation. The girls asked if we were having a good trip, and I replied, “It was perfect until I left my Kindle on the train yesterday.”

“What is your name?” said one girl.

I answered, “Gard. G-A-R-D.”

“Liz?” asked the girl.

My mind instantly went through the whole conversation. I had never said my name. “Yes,” I told her.

Reaching into her bag, the girl said, “Is this your Kindle?,” and handed it to me.

Our train had returned to Interlaken and the next day repeated the trip to Montreux, with this family, the Halls, having reserved our exact same seats. The teenagers, finding the Kindle where I’d left it, knew exactly how to use it to find the owner info.

With a million ‘Thank you’s’ and many smiles, we boarded our train for Geneva as one of the girls called out, “We turned off your WiFi to save your battery!”

LIZ GARD
Los Altos, CA

Please login or subscribe to ITN to read the entire post.

Getting off the train from Interlaken, Switzerland, to Montreux in June ’12, just 11 days into our 3-week Swiss trip, my husband, Jerry, and I were gathering our things together when I said, “Where’s my Kindle?” We searched everywhere, and I determined that I had left it on my seat when we changed trains.

We reported the loss to the railroad people in Montreux. We also emailed our son back in the US, telling him to shut off access to the Kindle so a finder could not download books and charge our credit card. Meanwhile, there was nothing to do but carry on.

The next day, Sunday, we had no definite plans, though Jerry wanted to see the fountain in Geneva. We decided to have lunch there, too. We took the train, which was covered by our Swiss Pass.

The train platform was empty except for one American man and his two teenage daughters. His “Florida” T-shirt was enough to start our conversation. The girls asked if we were having a good trip, and I replied, “It was perfect until I left my Kindle on the train yesterday.”

“What is your name?” said one girl.

I answered, “Gard. G-A-R-D.”

“Liz?” asked the girl.

My mind instantly went through the whole conversation. I had never said my name. “Yes,” I told her.

Reaching into her bag, the girl said, “Is this your Kindle?,” and handed it to me.

Our train had returned to Interlaken and the next day repeated the trip to Montreux, with this family, the Halls, having reserved our exact same seats. The teenagers, finding the Kindle where I’d left it, knew exactly how to use it to find the owner info.

With a million ‘Thank you’s’ and many smiles, we boarded our train for Geneva as one of the girls called out, “We turned off your WiFi to save your battery!”

LIZ GARD
Los Altos, CA