Copenhagen to Hamburg

An early wake up for an early travel day. Riding the metro in the morning here means you get a front row view of the tunnel. The transit authority has even added a sticker that looks like a control panel, fun!

I know this photo is kinda crappy but getting the front row seat in a subway is just so weird

I ate breakfast in a hotel near the main train station and contemplated my next move. What was a one seat ride on the way in was scheduled as a three seat ride today. It is Saturday and they are doing track work in between Kolding and Flensburg. That also means the second seat is on a bus. The Togbus was eerie, a double decker coach bus packed to the gills with the most silent Germans I’ve ever seen. Coming from the US, any bus experience without someone blasting Fetty Wap on a JBL or at least talking raucously is an odd one.

Then begins my last train. I check the schedule and see the train to Hamburg is on track two. I go to track two and something feels off, this train is run by Deutche Bahn. Aside from that generally being kind of cursed, this train was supposed to be run by DSB, the Danish operator. Additionally, my assigned seat was in car 8 and this was a 6 car train. To an American who is accustomed to digital train information typically existing in conflict with reality this means nothing, I’m boarding. Her came my next issue, I figured out I was not on the train I wanted to be on. Luckily this was not a “wrong” train since it was serving my destination but it was an all stop regional instead of the express I booked (and paid to reserve a seat for). So now I’m in a position that I’m on a trail that will take me there but I don’t have a ticket for. Visions of being gleefully booted off by a DB Konductor in Schleswig cloud my vision as I hear the familiar noises of ticket inspection behind me. “Guten morgen! *beep* Danke! Guten morgen! *beep* Danke! Guten morgen! *beep* Danke!” Like an American, I hold out my ticket for the other train.

Guten Morgan

BEEP

Danke, gute fahrt!

I gather myself to give a shaky danke schoen back and bury myself in my newest book, Robert Heinlein’s Job.

I popped out at Hamburg Hauptbahnhof, a stone’s throw from my hostel. Since I was starving I dumped my bag in my locker (my sleeping bedmate was thrilled) and went out to an Indian restaurant. Ordering Indian food in German felt so strange. The mix of languages was new to me and took a shocking amount of brainpower. Sadly there was no chai available to offset this terrible misstep.

Frank aber nichts Frankisch

Since there was still some sunlight left I wandered to the Olde Elbe Tunnel. Around 1900 dock work and shipbuilding was booming on the opposite shore of the River Elbe from where all the people lived. Ferries worked for a while but proved unreliable in winter. The solution was a pair of tunnels, each just barely large enough for a small automobile and six elevators on each side to bring people up and down. Cars are no longer permitted but for free ninety nine pedestrians and cyclists can make the connection under their own steam. It’s a lovely walk and you can even see the tunnel dip in the middle to sneak under the river.

Commuting like it’s 1910

After my round trip, I took the U Bahn to the Rathaus. For those who do not speak German, that is not a house of rats. The town hall of Hamburg is gorgeous and in a lively part of the city filled with history. I hoofed the rest of the walk back to my place to take in the city. The city was not resting, the Main Street had a few thousand people demonstrating for Palestine and the end of it all was going to be the neighborhood my hostel was based in. Luckily I’d already gotten to know my U-Bahn station and was able to get around it underground.

I’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately so my next mission was to have a chill night. That was going to start with shoe shopping. The sneakers I brought with me are at the beginning of the end of their life and I don’t want to know what happens if I push them. This shopping trip was a failure but did yield an entertaining walk through the mall. Apparently corduroy is very in right now, a shame I can’t ship it back. The early half of my evening was lovely, looking at shoes and snacking on Matador Mix.

The waterfront

After an unremarkable cocktail at a bar that decided to arrange its seating like a corporate meeting room (complete with indoor smoking) I went back to my room to grab my book. Being in a hostel, I am sharing with three other people. My bunk mate has been asleep for the entire six hours since I checked in this afternoon. Just her luck that she picked the locker under her feet, leaving me to disturb the locker under her head whenever I need anything.

I took my book to a cafe in a further fling neighborhood that the internet told me was interesting. I was not expecting that when I got off the train at at St. Pauli station that I would be greeted by the St Pauli Christmas carnival. Snacks, drinks, and carnival rides all for the holiday. I’m a bit drained so I kind of pushed through that as quickly as I could to get to the bar. Sweet bliss, book, beer, what else do you need? After my halbe I asked the bartender if she had recommendation for me. She claimed there was nothing. A fantastic answer, bullshit, but indicative of a city that is for its own people first. Nobody wants to be the next overtouristed overexposed Berlin. Keep your secrets.