A good deal of my time in Stuttgart was spent in the Hpt (train station) - the long hours awaiting for my ride to my destination, a village about fourty minutes south of Stuttgart, as there was an apparent miscommunication regarding my arrival, and the many, many long hours waiting for a midnight train to Paris only three days later.
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Had I realized at the time that that day would be one of the most imporant in my life, I would have taken some pictures of the inside of the train station for later reference. Of course these things can only be know in hindsight.
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