Crossing over into Germany on the train, we are startled when the dialect on the speakers suddenly switches. From the alien Czech, I am relieved to hear the comforting, familiar sound of Deutsch. We soon arrive at Berlin Haubtbahnhof (ja, Berlin!), where we jump on our connecting service.
Unable to find our reserved First-Class seats, the attendant tells us that we need to move to the train behind us. I take it to mean, there’s another train physically connected to this one, and that we’ll need to get off at the next stop and run along the platform to get back on. He understands this is as, we’ve taken the wrong train and need to get off, and get on the next one that comes along.
I am right, of course.
As we pull into the next station, he takes his time and drags off the suitcases one by one, while I start a mad dash down the platform with our hand luggage. I look behind and meet his confused expression, mouthing “What are you doing?” at me. The attendant peers out from the doorway and looks at him.
“Run!”, the uniformed figure shouts, pointing at the train behind us. “RUN!”
We both take off with panic set in. I make it to the first doorway of the train and jump on in desperation, hanging half outside to stop the doors from closing. He turns up soon after, red-faced and panting, poor outstretched arms sore and strained from the 60kg of luggage he’s been dragging.
The attendant looks at us and laughs – the big, jolly laugh of a big, jolly German. I suspect they would have waited for us anyway.
Finally settled in the right seats, we catch our breath and relax with the luxurious amenities of DB (Deutsche Bahn). The German trains have a certain class that will always stick out in my memories. From the welcoming Madeleine cakes, to the branded glasses filled with delicious brew and the pretzels available in the bar, to the reclining seats and tray tables – the service is a luxury Australia should learn from.
We pass the time writing more postcards and snapping photos of landmarks only non-Germans would find interesting (the Volkswagen factory, “Hamm” train station), but the trip doesn’t take long – after all we are traveling at 200km/hour.
It is early evening by the time we arrive at Köln Hauptbahnhof (Cologne central station), where we pick up our hire car for the next two days. It has one of those GPS units, with which we attempt to use to find our hotel.
We spend an hour trying to work the darn gadget, poking and swiping at it as it takes us all over Köln. By the time we get the thing working and find our hotel, we realise we are parked directly opposite the train station, where we picked up the car an hour ago…
It’s certainly been an interesting day.
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