  Travel account HiveriaAccount of the American businessman John Mitchell about his business trip to Hiveria. I stare out of the window and listen to the buzzing of the train. Some time ago we passed the beautiful, Medieval city of Spirdung and now we're approaching West Runsburg, the divided city on the border of Friland and Hiveria. There's no place in Europe where the tensions between two countries can get any higher than there. It seemed such a good idea to combine Friland and Hiveria on my business trip, but now that I approach the heavily guarded border, I start getting a little bit nervous. When in Hiveria, I've decided not to tell anyone that I've also done business in Friland, because both countries are on the brink of war with eachother. Instead, I'll say that I've visited a friend in Dunwik... 'Godandag! Wiz nean banhald West-Runsburg, and fan hiz wrait.' the loudspeakers crack. 'Good day! We're approaching West Runsburg station, end of this line,' the voice repeats itself in English. I expect another translation in French for the travellers to Hiveria, but there is none. Outside the window I see the buildings of a big city and the train starts slowing down. With a squeaking sound we stop and I look on my watch: exactly in time! The second-hand hits the twelve and with a hiss the doors open. I leave the train and see a beautiful, 19th century station. The sign shows in both runic and Latin writing the name "Runsburg", probably a remnant of the time that this city was not yet divided into a western, Frilandic part, and an eastern, Hiverian part. Although the railway leads into Hiveria, the train is not allowed to continue and the passengers have to get out and leave the building on foot. I go along outside and follow them to the customs post, where they line up in straight, orderly queues. I close up and wait for my turn. 'Your passport please,' a Frilandic customs officer asks in melodious English. He can probably see that I'm not a Frilander. I hand him my passport and after he has carefully checked it, he adds a stamp to it. After that, I have to pass through a detection gate. 'Why do you want to visit Hiveria?' the customs officer asks. In the sound of his voice I can hear that he finds it completely ridiculous that anyone would want to visit that country. 'I'm going to see an acquaintance in St. Gérard,' I lie to him. That I'm also going to do business in Hiveria, is not a wise answer I think. I can see that the customs officer doesn't believe me, but he still lets me pass. I follow the group of people over a path alongside the tracks. It leads through a no man's land that is teeming with barbed wire barricades, tank ditches, mine fields and watchtowers. On both sides there are patrolling soldiers and signs warn us that we should not leave the path. We arrive in Hiveria and are being taken along by customs officials, who are already waiting for us. They behave in a very unfriendly manner and I don't feel exactly welcome. Especially the Frilanders, who want to visit family members in occupied Eastern Walamark, are treated very roughly. One of the customs officers grabs me by the arm and leads me to a bare, concrete room. While my passport and possessions are being checked, I have to sit down at a table. 'Why were you in Friland and why have you come to Hiveria?' the officer sitting opposite of me asks with a strict look on his face. 'I've visited a friend in Dunwik and now I come to do business in your fine country,' I answer with a friendly smile. 'Is this friend in Dunwik called BTG by any chance?' 'What... What do you mean?' I feel my face turn red. BTG is the company that I've done business with in Friland about the purchase of computer parts... 'Don't act stupid, we know exactly what you visited Friland for!' The officer leans backwards. 'You do of course understand, that someone who does business with the enemy will be checked extra thoroughly...' He turns to two officers and says something to them in French, after which they take me to an adjacent room. Here I'm being strip searched and they take samples of my DNA and fingerprints. While I look to the ground in embarrassment, they make some corny jokes in French and then bring me back to the previous room, where I'm being questioned for at least half an hour. After telling the complete truth, I'm allowed to go. One of the officers throws my passport on the table and gestures that I can bugger off... Red-faced and with trembling hands I continue my way. I pass a grim looking armored car and a sign that enthousiastically says "Bienvenue à Hiveria!" However, I am too shocked to be able to laugh about the irony of this text... Once outside, I recognize some people that were in the train with me. They continue their way to "Runsbourg-Est" station, which is built a little further. This new railway station lies within a stone's throw of the previous station, but then on the Hiverian side of the border. The train to the capital St. Gérard is already waiting for us, so we quickly enter. I find a seat and look out of the window for a few minutes. Then the train departs. We ride through Eastern Walamark, a piece of Friland that has been under Hiverian rule since the nineteenth century. When I look at the battered houses and the badly maintained roads, I can hardly believe that these two countries are able to have a conflict about this for such a long time... After a while we stop in Deuxchâteau, or "Twaiburg" as the Frilanders call it. Some people enter or leave and the train continues. After a long time we arrive in Château l'Est, also known as "Austanburg". Here the train crosses a railway bridge over the river Ruisseau (Riþar) and leaves Eastern Walamark. Frilandic architecture gives way to buildings in Hiverian style and the composition of the passengers also changes: most Frilanders left the train in Eastern Walamark and the handful of tourists that remained, has been supplement with Hiverians. I take a look at my new travelling companions: they are shorter and more tastefully dressed than the Frilanders. They also make eye contact more easily and they talk to everyone who is prepared to listen. Unlike the Frilanders, the Hiverians are very extrovert. They speak loudly, flirt with every woman that walks by and comfortably rest their feet on the benches. In Heunia, Hiveria's third largest city, more people enter the train and in Louisville it really gets crowded. I'm happy that I have a seat, because most people have no choice but to stand in the aisle. 'Mesdames et messieurs, nous sommes arrivées à St.Gérard, Gare de l'Ouest,' the conductor announces. The train stops at Gare de l'Ouest, the westernmost station of St. Gérard. I'm almost there! More people get in and after some minutes the train continues its journey to Gare de Gaudin, the central station. Here I'll meet my contact. I look outside and see a mix of medieval buildings, neoclassicism and modern high-rise buildings. In the distance I see the double towers of the Cathedrale Saint Gérard. When I've got some time left, I'll definitely pay it a visit! 'Ensuite; St. Gérard, Gare de Gaudin!' The train enters the station and stops at the platform. The doors are opened and the fully packed train empties. I'm being dragged along by the crowd and once outside, I breathe in the fresh air. I decide to follow the stream to the central hall, where I'll meet Paulo Montparnelle, the representative of Connex Rochamps. It's very crowded and it takes a while before I notice the neatly dressed gentleman, who's in the back of the hall holding a sign with my name on it. 'Bonjour, monsieur Mitchell!' 'Bonjour!' I try in my best French. 'Nice to meet you, John!' Paulo says in broken English. He slaps me on the shoulder and pulls me to the exit. For a second, I'm astonished by the informal manner in which I'm being treated, but it's actually nice for a change, compared to the stiff, formal Frilanders that I did business with during the last few days. 'How far is your office, mister Montparnelle?' 'Please, call me Paulo! And you're not telling me that you want to go to some dull office to speak about boring business, do you? We can always do that later. Come, let's go to the city!' I walk along with Paulo through the crowded, pleasant little streets of St. Gérard. I notice that the people here are very open; passers-by compliment eachother with their clothing or haircuts, people curse at eachother when they're standing in eachother's way and taxi drivers honk at everyone they see. The streets of this colorful city are populated by people from all corners of the world, food stalls spread their delicious odors and everywhere there is talking, screaming and honking. In the midst of this commotion and chaos, there are poles with security cameras, which pretty much monitor everything that's going on here. Here and there are big TV screens, on which commercials are being alternated with president Collignon's daily speeches. I can't understand what he's saying, but it's about Friland and it doesn't sound very friendly... 'Where are we going, Paulo?' 'To the Rue de Tanneurs,' Paulo replies, while he plays with his cell phone. 'The best restaurants in all of Hiveria are there!' I'm starving after my long journey, so I'm happy to hear this. My first introduction to Hiveria wasn't that pleasant, but now I'm also starting to see her better sides. I calmly follow Paulo and decide to let myself be surprised by this strange, but interesting country.  |