Amsterdam to Copenhagen

 8 am train with unpredictable levels of energy means waking up at 6:30. I felt like Hell. Packed up and made my way to Amsterdam Centraal. There was a bakery in the station where I grabbed a cup of tea and some pecan pastry with a name I could not come close to pronouncing. This was my opportunity to enjoy a stroopwafel. I popped the lid off of my cup and rested the sugary disc on top. By the time the tea was done steeping, the dough had rehydrated and the filling in the middle had become warm and gooey. It was almost enough to make me glad I was awake.

Today is about 12 hours of travel across three trains. Not the sort of thing we see in the US and not at all what I’ve been accustomed to. I guess you could have to do a move like that if you were going from a suburb of Virginia to a suburb of Boston but still, it’s an oddball. In the states, a 12 hour train ride means your butt it parked in a cushy long distance seat. You can expect a leg rest, an outlet, and a lounge. Of the three trains I was on only one of them had  a reclining seat and it was probably the hardest seat I’ve ever sat on. The fleet here is clean but wow the standards for comfort are different.

After about three hours I got to Osnabrueck, a small city in the West of Germany. My hour and a half layover was enough to grab lunch and stretch my legs for a bit. I found a Syrian restaurant not far from the station. Luckily my German is decent enough to handle interactions like these without resorting to gestures. Didn’t make the guy behind the counter any happier that my German wasn’t good.

I was hoping that after a brief rest I’d be on the train to Hamburg but Deutsche Bahn had other plans. DB is the butt of jokes out here and a glaring stain on German punctuality. For reference DB’s long distance routes have an on time performance rate comparable to Amtrak’s. In the Netherlands people were complaining about intercity trains being 5 minutes behind schedule. In Germany things are a mess. The departures board in Osnabrueck showed 11 trains. Six of those were delayed and one was canceled all together.

25 meters from here a falafel guy yelled at me

Part of why I’m ranting so much is that my train was one of the six delayed. If I had known I was going to have a two hour layover I would have stashed my bag and checked out the castle. Instead I was stuck in the square watching my train slip further and further late. I remember booking this trip and joking “oh wow, only a 40 minute layover in Hamburg with a connection on DB, could be difficult.” My 40 minute layover with ample time for snacks and beer turned into five.

When we pulled in to Hamburg I bolted across the concourse to make my train. No snacks, no beer. Just my luck that this last train, a five hour ride, has no restaurant aboard. At least the seats actually recline. 

Don’t ask me where this was. I was so tired.

After an eternity we pull into Copenhagen and I take the metro to my hostel. They use POP here for entry. Buy a ticket, put it in your pocket and ride. Lots of trust and high fines for breaking it. The trains are automated so you can actually sit in the front and watch the tunnel zip by through a massive window. Also notable, this is the only place outside of New York City that runs their trains 24/7.

I check in, dump my bags and get going to a cafe on the river. It is peaceful here, the mania that permeates Amsterdam has given way to Nordic calm and sensibility. There is a uniform here. People almost exclusively wear black, white, or grey. Naturally with green sneakers and a look on my face that screams “I’m cold” I stand out like a sore thumb.

Back in the hostel bar something else sticks out more. Someone bumps into me, makes eye contact, and smiles. A bloody foreigner. I’m overjoyed and engage in the greatest American pleasure, small talk. She’s from Mexico and we switch to Spanish. It feels nice to speak a Latin language after swimming in a sea of Dutch, German, and Danish.