We searched for Basel's train station on foot, a place I'd never been before but that was significant to me. There, where I thought the train station should be, I saw what looked like a 1970's-style office building. The sky was a patchy gray and the day cold, my cheeks red and wind-chapped. We walked around the building, and as we turned the corner, there was the train station I'd seen in pictures, a European-style train station with an arched, seafoam-green roof bordered by two broad columns. Wires from the tram tracks criss-crossed overhead. We walked inside and paused in the middle of the station. Fast-food restaurants lined the walls, and it smelled like French fries. The sounds of a busy train station reverberated off the high ceilings. Ahead was a steep escalator that led to a bridge over the train platforms. I was just looking today, but my excitement in finding and finally seeing the station matched the people walking quickly by me with small weekend bags in hand.
