On the Poland Germany Border

Wednesday 4pm

Approaching the Polish-German border

I go to bed early and sleep wonderfully in the most comfortable bed I have had so far. In the morning, I am relieved to discover that my washing is nearly dry and I’ve discovered that the trouser press in the Radisson has got a built in ironing board with an iron attached, so I set to. I sometimes wish that people who design ships´ cabins and hotel bedrooms could be let loose on our homes. They just seem to be SO clever at fitting things into little spaces.

Over an excellent breakfast with an extremely tasty freshly cooked omelette, I meet with another Agnieszka, this time the hotel’s PR lady. She tells me that some Warsaw taxi drivers have a similar reputation to the ones in Prague. Once bitten, twice shy, I make sure that the receptionist books me a reputable firm. The girl tells me the price should be ‘a maximum of 25 Zlotys’ (around six pounds) but the man agrees to charge me 15. The meter actually shows 10, but what the hell.

I go in search for a plan of the train, so I can position myself near to the carriage listed on my ticket, but I can’t find one. Although most of the announcements on the platform are in Polish, the international nature of the train means that a tape-recorded voice informs us in which sector of the platform each carriage will be and there’s a massive scramble as half of Warsaw realises that they are in the wrong place. Luckily, through a combination of luck and experience, I have guessed right.

Agnieszka has told me that ‘the train is lovely’ but six of us are squeezed into a compartment and I go in search of rather plusher accommodation. The restaurant carriage is split into two with only 3 passengers in the 10 non-catering seats. At Poznan, a lot of folk get off and I am left with half a carriage all to myself, apart from an occasional staff luncheon.

Poland has not been cheap, but the Polish Railways Restaurant is not overly-priced and, as a result, very busy. I am surprised how many people the waiter allows just to have a coffee, thus blocking up tables for genuine meal takers.

I am half way round my circuit and reflect that I haven’t been on a really high speed train since arriving in Barcelona. In fact the only one I have seen was an Italian-built Pendolino, like Virgin use, and that was in the Czech Republic.

So far, the Eurail/Inter Rail pass has worked extremely well although it´s nigh on impossible to make a reservation on a train via the internet, although everybody assures me it is theoretically possible. What happens in practice is that the English bit of the foreign railways´ web sites runs out at that point and you go round in circles. So, to avoid endless queues at stations during your travels, my strong advice is to plan well ahead and book both your tickets and your seat reservation through an agency who can handle everything.

The Polish countryside has been lovely, very agricultural with freshly-harvested fields and lots of forests and rivers. I am reminded often of the landscape in the film, ‘The Great Escape’.

Today’s diary is being filed early, courtesy of Mr. Vodafone’s 3G data card for my laptop, because the Berlin Tourist Board has put together what looks like a fascinating and very full programme which starts soon after my arrival with a ‘private walking and gastronomic tour’. If you can’t wait, check it out at www.berlinagenten.com and www.gastro-rallye.com, which, I must confess I haven’t yet actually done myself.