Keys to Europe's unsung cities: skip the crowds in these amazing destinations
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The Age
13 hours ago
- The Age
I travelled across the breadth of Europe on trains over six weeks
There's something delightfully atmospheric about waiting on a chilly platform for a sleeper train to distant parts. After a few days exploring Amsterdam and a scenic side-trip to pretty Utrecht (a handy use of the Eurail pass), I find myself at Amsterdam Centraal Station at 10.30pm. European Sleeper is a Belgian-Dutch night train which began service in 2023, and I'm picking it up for the Amsterdam-Berlin leg. I'm ushered aboard by Dylan, a friendly young Dutch attendant. He tells me this sleeper carriage first saw service in 1955, though it's been fully refurbished. I've booked my compartment as a 'single', for sole use, via a reservation on top of the Eurail pass, and the compartment is spacious. There's a bed, an armchair and a tall cabinet containing a washbasin and mirror. Comfortable in my little room, I wake at 5.15am to breakfast: a box containing a bread roll, cheese spread, jam, yoghurt, muesli and orange juice. An hour later, right on time, the train pulls into Berlin Hauptbahnhof. Berlin to Krakow, Poland The online seat reservation for this Polish daytime train, named Galicja, costs only €4: a bargain for the comfortable first-class seats. It doesn't have an assigned seat number, so I spend the day changing seats as new passengers board. This does help me meet interesting people, as the facing seats encourage conversation. I'm delighted to discover there's a dining car, and am soon enjoying a steaming bowl of rye-flour soup with egg and sausage, served in a ceramic bowl with metal cutlery. As we trundle past the green forests of Silesia, who could ask for anything better? Krakow to Budapest, Hungary After a few days enjoying Krakow's historic splendour (and its vodka), I board a Polish sleeper train, Chopin, at Krakow Glowny Station. I've booked a single again and, surprisingly, my compartment has a bathroom complete with washbasin, toilet and shower. These were once sold as deluxe sleepers, but due to uncertain availability they're now the same fare as sleepers without bathrooms; a nice bonus. In a cupboard I find a bottle of water, orange juice and a chocolate wafer bar. Then I head to bed for what I assume will be an uninterrupted sleep. But no. About 1.30am I'm awoken by Czech ticket inspectors. Unable to find my printed reservation, I show them the phone version and they're happy to scan that. Later I discover the train attendant kept hold of my reservation so I wouldn't be woken in the middle of the night. I wake again around 6.30am in Slovakia, and the attendant delivers my breakfast. It's similar to the one on my previous sleeper, with the addition of slabs of dense brown bread. I sip my coffee and admire the lovely scenery as we follow the Danube across the border to Hungary. Budapest to Brasov, Romania At Budapest's spectacularly grand Keleti Station I gain access to its retro-styled Premium Lounge, open to those with a sleeper reservation. Then I walk to my Hungarian sleeper train, the Corona. Built in the 1960s, it's a retro delight with wood-panelled compartments. I'm in a single, with a table, a washbasin and a cupboard containing snacks. It also has a standard electrical outlet and two USB-A slots, the most charging capacity I've had on a sleeper train. There's no air-conditioning, but as we move on this hot day, the open windows cool the interior. This experience is a stark contrast to the sleek high-speed trains of western Europe. However, it feels like true old-school rail travel, with fresh air and lots of rattling. The dining car has tables with red-and-white cloths, blue-upholstered seats, gilt-edged lampshades and curtains. As we pass through the flat Hungarian landscape with its peaked-roof houses and green fields, I enjoy goulash soup followed by pork ragu accompanied by a beer. This for me is rail travel at its best. After a decent sleep and an uneventful border crossing, I awake to the mists of Transylvania, with trees, houses and rivers looming out of the fog. Brasov to Bucharest, Romania Having enjoyed the historic sights in and around the attractive city of Brasov – including that famous tourist trap, Bran Castle – I ride a packed train for 2½ hours to the Romanian capital. I had thought a Monday morning service would be empty but discover it's the end of a long weekend. Though the seating is cramped, the scenery is moody as we descend from the Carpathian Mountains to the plains of Wallachia. Bucharest to Sofia, Bulgaria For 10 hours I'm seated in a second-class compartment of a Bulgarian train with no air-conditioning, no dining car and dire toilets. Luckily there are only three of us in the compartment: me, an American school bus driver, who saves up for a big holiday every year, and a young Belgian on his university break. We get on well, but it's a hot day and the train is glacially slow. The saving grace is the beautiful Bulgarian countryside, with its green rolling hills and rocky mountainsides. Sofia to Istanbul, Turkey Sofia Central Station is a revelation, its main hall restored to its brutalist-modernist style splendour. On platform five is the Turkish-operated Sofia-Istanbul Express and my compartment is another single. There are two armchairs folding down to a bed, a retractable table, a washbasin and, unexpectedly, a bar fridge. We pull out at 6.45pm and pass through attractive green countryside. About 1am we arrive at the Turkish border station where everyone alights for passport control and luggage scans. It's actually more relaxed than it sounds – it's a balmy night, there are stray cats wandering about and the station's shop is open. In due course I'm back aboard, and falling asleep. In the morning we pass wheat fields and apartment blocks before our arrival at Halkali at the western edge of Istanbul. All that remains is to board a train on the adjacent commuter railway line and travel to the historic heart of the great city. Standing on the platform, at the end of an unforgettable transcontinental rail journey, I take a moment to catch my breath. Loading THE DETAILS RIDE Eurail passes cover a range of time periods. A popular choice is 15 days of travel within two months, costing $US486 ($745) for second-class travel and $US617 for first class. Additional seat reservations are often required.
Sydney Morning Herald
13 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
I travelled across the breadth of Europe on trains over six weeks
There's something delightfully atmospheric about waiting on a chilly platform for a sleeper train to distant parts. After a few days exploring Amsterdam and a scenic side-trip to pretty Utrecht (a handy use of the Eurail pass), I find myself at Amsterdam Centraal Station at 10.30pm. European Sleeper is a Belgian-Dutch night train which began service in 2023, and I'm picking it up for the Amsterdam-Berlin leg. I'm ushered aboard by Dylan, a friendly young Dutch attendant. He tells me this sleeper carriage first saw service in 1955, though it's been fully refurbished. I've booked my compartment as a 'single', for sole use, via a reservation on top of the Eurail pass, and the compartment is spacious. There's a bed, an armchair and a tall cabinet containing a washbasin and mirror. Comfortable in my little room, I wake at 5.15am to breakfast: a box containing a bread roll, cheese spread, jam, yoghurt, muesli and orange juice. An hour later, right on time, the train pulls into Berlin Hauptbahnhof. Berlin to Krakow, Poland The online seat reservation for this Polish daytime train, named Galicja, costs only €4: a bargain for the comfortable first-class seats. It doesn't have an assigned seat number, so I spend the day changing seats as new passengers board. This does help me meet interesting people, as the facing seats encourage conversation. I'm delighted to discover there's a dining car, and am soon enjoying a steaming bowl of rye-flour soup with egg and sausage, served in a ceramic bowl with metal cutlery. As we trundle past the green forests of Silesia, who could ask for anything better? Krakow to Budapest, Hungary After a few days enjoying Krakow's historic splendour (and its vodka), I board a Polish sleeper train, Chopin, at Krakow Glowny Station. I've booked a single again and, surprisingly, my compartment has a bathroom complete with washbasin, toilet and shower. These were once sold as deluxe sleepers, but due to uncertain availability they're now the same fare as sleepers without bathrooms; a nice bonus. In a cupboard I find a bottle of water, orange juice and a chocolate wafer bar. Then I head to bed for what I assume will be an uninterrupted sleep. But no. About 1.30am I'm awoken by Czech ticket inspectors. Unable to find my printed reservation, I show them the phone version and they're happy to scan that. Later I discover the train attendant kept hold of my reservation so I wouldn't be woken in the middle of the night. I wake again around 6.30am in Slovakia, and the attendant delivers my breakfast. It's similar to the one on my previous sleeper, with the addition of slabs of dense brown bread. I sip my coffee and admire the lovely scenery as we follow the Danube across the border to Hungary. Budapest to Brasov, Romania At Budapest's spectacularly grand Keleti Station I gain access to its retro-styled Premium Lounge, open to those with a sleeper reservation. Then I walk to my Hungarian sleeper train, the Corona. Built in the 1960s, it's a retro delight with wood-panelled compartments. I'm in a single, with a table, a washbasin and a cupboard containing snacks. It also has a standard electrical outlet and two USB-A slots, the most charging capacity I've had on a sleeper train. There's no air-conditioning, but as we move on this hot day, the open windows cool the interior. This experience is a stark contrast to the sleek high-speed trains of western Europe. However, it feels like true old-school rail travel, with fresh air and lots of rattling. The dining car has tables with red-and-white cloths, blue-upholstered seats, gilt-edged lampshades and curtains. As we pass through the flat Hungarian landscape with its peaked-roof houses and green fields, I enjoy goulash soup followed by pork ragu accompanied by a beer. This for me is rail travel at its best. After a decent sleep and an uneventful border crossing, I awake to the mists of Transylvania, with trees, houses and rivers looming out of the fog. Brasov to Bucharest, Romania Having enjoyed the historic sights in and around the attractive city of Brasov – including that famous tourist trap, Bran Castle – I ride a packed train for 2½ hours to the Romanian capital. I had thought a Monday morning service would be empty but discover it's the end of a long weekend. Though the seating is cramped, the scenery is moody as we descend from the Carpathian Mountains to the plains of Wallachia. Bucharest to Sofia, Bulgaria For 10 hours I'm seated in a second-class compartment of a Bulgarian train with no air-conditioning, no dining car and dire toilets. Luckily there are only three of us in the compartment: me, an American school bus driver, who saves up for a big holiday every year, and a young Belgian on his university break. We get on well, but it's a hot day and the train is glacially slow. The saving grace is the beautiful Bulgarian countryside, with its green rolling hills and rocky mountainsides. Sofia to Istanbul, Turkey Sofia Central Station is a revelation, its main hall restored to its brutalist-modernist style splendour. On platform five is the Turkish-operated Sofia-Istanbul Express and my compartment is another single. There are two armchairs folding down to a bed, a retractable table, a washbasin and, unexpectedly, a bar fridge. We pull out at 6.45pm and pass through attractive green countryside. About 1am we arrive at the Turkish border station where everyone alights for passport control and luggage scans. It's actually more relaxed than it sounds – it's a balmy night, there are stray cats wandering about and the station's shop is open. In due course I'm back aboard, and falling asleep. In the morning we pass wheat fields and apartment blocks before our arrival at Halkali at the western edge of Istanbul. All that remains is to board a train on the adjacent commuter railway line and travel to the historic heart of the great city. Standing on the platform, at the end of an unforgettable transcontinental rail journey, I take a moment to catch my breath. Loading THE DETAILS RIDE Eurail passes cover a range of time periods. A popular choice is 15 days of travel within two months, costing $US486 ($745) for second-class travel and $US617 for first class. Additional seat reservations are often required.
The Age
25-07-2025
- The Age
Where local ‘milk bars' feel more like Soviet IKEAs
It's lunchtime in Krakow, and I'm standing in a fast-moving line between a gentleman in a wool coat and a student in a hoodie at Bar Mleczny Pod Temida. I grab a tray and mimic the Cracovians, sliding trays along and self-serving shredded carrot and cabbage. A dispenser holds red liquid; maybe cherry compote? Maybe beet juice? The woman serving behind the counter shouts something at me. I'm prepared for this. I mouth, slowly but confidently, 'kotlet schabowy' and 'golabki,' both dishes recommended by my walking tour guide, Emily Meadows, just hours earlier. She stares, then turns and shouts toward a small square window, through which I can just see a wrinkly forehead. Two plates slide through: a golden-crusted pork cutlet and cabbage rolls smothered in sauce. At the register, the total is 62 zloty ($26) for two generous plates, a side and two drinks. The set-up feels a little like a Soviet version of IKEA. The bare-bones dining room, with its yellow walls and round lino-topped tables, exudes a quiet comfort but it's not just the decor that harks back to another time. This is a bar mleczny, or 'milk bar,' a uniquely Polish institution. Milk bars have been around since the late-19th century and became fixtures under communism when the government subsidised them to provide affordable meals to workers. Meat was scarce in the '80s, so the menus leaned on dairy, grains and vegetables. Hence the name. Today, they're subsidised by nostalgia seekers, students and the occasional curious visitor like me. Pod Temida sits just off the Royal Route in the heart of the old city. Meadows, who runs a blog, Emily's Guide to Krakow, warned me it would be full of tourists. But looking around, it's a mix of students dragging tables together, older Polish couples and a British family negotiating cutlery. 'They're a little like time machines,' she says. 'But they're not museums. People still come here every day for lunch.' Where you go, though, makes all the difference. In the tourist-thronged Old Town, milk bars such as Pod Temida serve mostly out-of-towners chasing a cheap, traditional meal. But cross the river to Podgorze and you'll find Bar Mleczny Poludniowy down a quiet side street. It's mostly frequented by locals who come for a rotating menu of soups, stews and house-made compote (the red juice). In Nowa Huta, a socialist model suburb 40 minutes away by bus, Bar Mleczny Centralny is Krakow's most authentic milk bar. 'A few tourists trickle in, but it's mostly pensioners and construction workers who come, seeking a taste of home,' says Meadows.
