The train ride to Malmö was a lot roomier than the trip back to Zurich. Six bunks on the way back instead of just four. Sweden was fun and I thought that heading back to Switzerland to recoup and gather more supplies before heading out again would be a good idea. I contemplated my next route, I had six weeks left in Europe which was a lot of time to work with. I still had a decent budget and could easily survive on hard bread and cheese for at least a month and still spare some change for a pint or three. Given the fact that I had thirteen hours of train time ahead of me I decided to continue strategizing at the restaurant/lounge car where there was bound to be a full service bar.

“Ja! Hungry, like ze Volf!” If you couldn’t already tell, Karl is from Germany. He boarded the train at Kiel and was headed to Köln via Duisberg. He was talking about Amsterdam, more specifically Karl’s experience at a “café,” or after having visited a “café” for that matter. Karl thought it would be funny to reference the Duran Duran song to highlight the drug induced hunger he was reminiscing to us about. ‘Us’ being Matt and Marc, two New Zealanders, Karl and myself.

I had spotted the group in the corner of the bar on the way into the restaurant car. Their table had the only spot left in the house. I took my Erdinger Heffenwiesen over and landed in the middle of a good time. After discerning where everyone was from the next subject was, “What are you doing on this train?”

Karl was headed home from a business trip. I explained that I was heading back to Zurich where I was staying with a family member, to recoup and promptly resume my adventure. My options were, well, all of Europe really. “We’re actually headed to Amsterdam for a night before heading off to San Sebastian to meet up with friends” Matt explained.

The two Kiwis had never been to Holland before so I mentioned that I had visited Amsterdam in 1999 on a trip with some college friends during my university years in London and that they would have a great time. Staying in hostels, cafes, getting robbed, the whole bit. The Kiwis got a little scared at this point but I, not wanting to discourage them, continued to encourage their idea and insisted that traveling Europe is not complete without a visit to the most liberal city in the world. They were somewhat convinced, something was up. We were seeing the bottom of our fourth beer. “Vier Heffenwiesen bitte!” It was Karl’s round.

“NO! I can’t, I have to get back to Zurich!” I explained.

“But you KNOW Amsterdam!” Marc says with a slur.

“I don’t KNOW Amsterdam, I’ve been there but…”

“Yeah, exactly! At least you could keep an eye out for us, put us on the right path. Plus it’d be fun.” Matt explains.

“Am I even on the right part of the train? Don’t I need an extra ticket or something? Is it even possible at this point”

“Sure you can!” They all reassure me. “Just ask the conductor.” I didn’t think it was possible and I set out to prove my point even though, given my intoxicated mindset, I had already made up my mind to join them.

The conductor looked at my drunken face with annoyance and reluctantly said “It is possible” in a thick Austrian accent. He handed me my ticket and says, “Look for someplace to stay in the front of the train. Where your compartment is now, is on the part of the train which will change direction in Essen. So you must go to the front and continue with the train to Duisberg. From Duisberg you will get off and change trains heading to Amsterdam”

“Do I need a ticket?”

“Only your Eurail pass.”

“I don’t have to pay?”

“No” he said slower as he looked deeply into my eyes. Not the kind of ‘deeply’ like Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman ‘deeply’ but more like ‘if you don’t get out of my sight I’ll smack you sober’ kind of deeply.

I returned to my new found friends victoriously with all of my belongings which I managed to get off the top bunk without enraging any of my sleeping compartment-mates. That was quite the trial due to my disorientation caused by the train movements and my lack of equilibrium due to my inebriated state. I explained to Matt and Marc that I had to find a place to sleep for the duration of the trip, to which they responded that they were staying in a six sleeper compartment but that there were only two other people joining them. Perfect, I thought to myelf.

For a split second, between my fifth and sixth beer, I had a moment of doubt. Yet I was having such a great time that I wrote off my moment of doubt as nothing more than the beer thinking. I tried at that point to convince Karl to join us but he insisted that he had already had too much fun in Amsterdam and really wanted to go home to his family. Although, to make up for his absence, he invited us to Köln to celebrate some festival or other which was supposed to be better than October Fest. He gave us his card and contact info and at that point the two Kiwis and I said our goodbyes and headed for the front of the train. We weren’t too keen on meeting the two other guys (the compartments are either all male or all female only).

Their names were Mina and Katherine both born in Germany but were at that time, seniors at UC Berkley. I did a double take as soon as I walked into the compartment and made the Kiwis double check their compartment number to make sure that we were in the right one. Sure enough, they were twin sisters and we were in the right compartment, how serendipitous. The remainder of the night is forever lost to me.

By the time our after party died down we had gone through a quarter bottle of Scotch Whiskey and we had four hours left before our train arrived in Duisberg. We woke up fully clothed and groggy. We had to disembarked the train immediately, we were the last passengers onboard. It seemed bright out despite the fact that it was a dull, humid foggy morning. We bid farewell to the twins and made our way to the platform where our train would arrive to take us to Amsterdam. Looking up at the sign I read in big bold letters:

Platform 6B Intercity Train, Amsterdam TICKET HOLDERS ONLY