I tried the ticket-office for foreigners in the soft-seat waiting-room at the station.
"You must go to the CITS," the girl said and turned away.
"I've been there and they told me to come here."
She thought that she had finished with me and was surprised to see me still pursuing my cause.
"When you want to go?"
I told her.
"Then try same day," she said.
"But have you got any tickets for that day?" I asked.
"You must try." Didn't I understand?
Of course I did, but what I couldn't was if the CITS had none but the station might on the same day, then surely the station should know.
And if they did, then why couldn't I have one? I put it to her as calmly and as simply as I could.
"It is the way," she said.
"But I have to check-out of my hotel the day I leave, and if I don't know for sure that I can get a ticket, I could be left with nowhere to stay." I hoped for sympathy.
"OK, come the night before at seven o'clock."
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Turn The Page: Night Before Departure.