Last Train Home (Hamburg to Berlin, Germany)

A spoiler alert before you commence reading, my loyal reader, and a disclosure. The photos are all from Hamburg and are purely aesthetic to break up the text. The title today relates to our train dramas in Berlin. Transits are never as easy as they are planned to be.  The Last Train Home by Blink 182, one of their more recent numbers.

Leaving Hamburg went smoothly. As such. We traversed a different route to the station now that we had some local knowledge. It was marginally longer, not noticeably, but easier with the bags on the cobblestones. Hamburg couldn't help itself, however. Despite the dry weather forecast, it just had to drizzle on us one more time, as we trundled towards the station.

There are of course, multiple entrances to a station of this size. After crossing and re-crossing the road, we found the entrance we had used four days earlier. You may recall that initially, the escalator to escape the station was not working and we had to lug our bags up the stairs. Today the down escalator was frozen. I swear it is a conspiracy. We had to drag the bags down the stairs. I am not feeling the love for DB trains.

The old buildings really add character.

Despite this inconvenience, we arrived at platform 8 in plenty of time. I purchased some water, definitely still this time because I asked the shop assistant. Then we used the functioning escalator to get down to the very long platform. The discussion at this point had been about where to stand to board the train (first class, no more screaming children). Eventually this was made clear on the digital noticeboard. We were in the right spot on a very crowded platform.

The train arrived and, despite us being repeatedly pushed in the back by a German lady who obviously felt her reserved seat was going to be stolen if she didn't get to it immediately, I managed to stow the big bag. Not at ground level because that space had been usurped by bags that could have been placed in the overhead rack. I hoisted the suitcase onto the middle shelf, placed our smaller bags overhead and fell into my seat. We then watched our impatient fellow passenger, come all the way back down the carriage, past our seats, to occupy the seats directly behind us. Thankfully today's journey was a mere two and a half hours. It would be over before we knew it.

Even the derelict buildings get a little colour.

As has become the custom, the train was late, but not enough to inconvenience anyone. We disembarked at Berlin central and set about looking for the S Bahn line that would get us to Hackescher Markt, two stops away. At a 40 minute walk, for the first time, it was just a bit too far to attempt through unfamiliar terrain with the bags.

Despite being disgorged in the largest train station we have ever seen - multiple levels with escalators, more stores and restaurants than a typical shopping centre, and scant signage, we managed to locate the platform. Simple. What about tickets? Good question, dear reader. One not easily answered at that point. Jayne suggested they might have the ticket machines on the platforms. Correct. Up we go to the platform that will allow us the longest time period to work out the ticketing machines and still board a train.

Bird boxes are everywhere. 

Excellent theory. Despite Youtube asserting differently, there was no other language offered on the ticket machines. I tried Google translator on my phone with limited success. Jayne decided to ask the young couple that purchased tickets after I had given up. Fortunately they were Irish and while they didn't read German, they knew which buttons to push. Moments later, and €7 poorer, we had our tickets and enough time to get on the next train. Mind you, after all that, we didn't get our tickets validated. No one checked, so at least we didn't fare evade which could potentially have been the case, if not for the Irish couple's assistance.

We alighted at Hackescher Markt and immediately chose the wrong exit. Misdirection rectified, we arrived at our hotel at 1pm, 2 hours before check in. In a stroke of good fortune, our room was unexpectedly ready. Cheers Adina Apartments.

Hamburg Rathaus from the Alster Arcade.

After we settled in, we searched online for the nearest supermarket. The options were weighed and we walked the three minutes to Rewe which was literally in the other side of the same building. Unfamiliar supermarkets are always a challenge. Add to that a foreign language and all you can manage is to keep getting in the way of shoppers who are clearly in a hurry and know their way around.

After our usual deliberation over the procurement of staples such as butter, cheese and ham, we decided to give the limited wine selection a miss in the hope of finding a better range at a specialty liquor store. We did, however, search for a sealed container to store any unused food on our next transit day. We espied a display of, would you believe it, Tupperware just near the only open checkout that was being personned by a rather formidable looking lady. 

Inside the 'no go' zone in the Rathaus.

She was from the 'non-service' regime of which I have spoken previously and appeared to like her job as much as she would a cold water enema. Judging by her face, she could have been having the enema as she attended to us. She waved the Tupperware container at Jayne and sneered something in German. After we made it clear we didn't understand, the words dropped more loudly from her mouth like stones, once again in German. Surely the extra volume would ensure we can understand a foreign language. Thankfully the lady behind us translated the aggressive words of the shop 'assistant'. The Tupperware was a special deal with points accrued at the store, blah blah and would cost way too much without said points.

Jayne bid her an overly cheery danke schön as we made a hasty retreat from the store. We returned home with our goods and consulted Google once more. The short story is, we wandered lonely as a cloud, no, no, that's the daffodil poem. We found the liquor store. Very top end and expensive and continued our search until we stumbled on another, much bigger supermarket, that sold wine and bread. 

Window shopping on the Reeperbahn.

On the way out of the Adina, we had approached reception to inquire about a plug for the kitchen sink so we could wash up and not waste water. We were also missing a wine glass so we asked if housekeeping could supply both.

Back at the hotel,  we opened our door to find the hotel handyman with our dishwasher in pieces all over the floor. Clearly something had been lost in translation and we tried to explain that the dishwasher was fine, as far as we knew. What we were after was a sink plug. He then started to investigate the tap workings so Google came to the rescue once again and we learnt the German word for plug, "stecker." He indicated he would try to obtain one through housekeeping, put our dishwasher back together and cheerily departed the scene. Eventually the plug and three wine glasses arrived.

Davidwache (police) on the Reeperbahn.

The next discussion was dinner. Not that either of us was hungry, but after a long transit day, it's always good to finish with a meal. Finally we settled on the Japanese restaurant next door. An easy choice for two reasons. One, Jayne was indulging my love of sushi. Two, it was raining intermittently and we didn't want to chance the weather.

Another day navigated safely, it was back to the hotel to check out German TV. There wasn't much of interest until we discovered Eurosport and the World Curling Championship. I'll let that sit with you.

Until next time.