Ian and I survived (quite comfortably) our first night on the train from Paris to Berlin (in every disco I get in, my heart is pumping for love.... etc). Changing trains from Paris Nord to Paris l'est was very straight forward. I tried to make a telephone call but what is it about foreign scallys that makes me more scared than our home grown types? dunno but I steered well clear of the only public telephones when I spyed them hanging out there.
The 6 berth couchette was small to say the least but staying in the top bunk was well out of the way of the other guests. They consisted of a family of gypsys (or so i thought but they didn't have any chickens - although their suitcases remained closed) who said they were French but i didn't believe them.... they talked gypsy for godsake. And a very nice German lady who had just been on holiday to a Buddist monastary in the south of France.
I got a beer and watched the world whizz by and realised why I was doing this journey and felt quite pleased with myself. Am teary every now and then, when I think of home but I think it'll be ok. Berlin here I come.
Berlin I'm here! Got a nice German welcome on arrival! lovely. As I arrived at the hostel, literally as I sat down, I got a telephone call from an old friend - Ray Monk! So am meeting up with him tonight - for those of you that know him, lets hope it doesn't involve too many beers.......
