City Night Line to Prague

After learning my work was to be extended through the middle of November, in a moment of irrational exuberance we booked overnight train tickets to Prague for the long weekend of Armistice Day (November 11). Planning over a month in advance certainly made it financially possible, but a few hiccups at work left me concerned that I would be sent home early, to return at a later date but missing the scheduled trip. Fortunately, all my concerns proved unfounded and we eagerly boarded the local train on Friday afternoon from Mons to Brussles, then cruised at speeds of 270kph/170mph from Brussles to Cologne, Germany on the ICE (Inter City Express) before transferring to the CNL (City Night Line) from Cologne to Prague.


At least that was the plan.

Mons to Cologne was easy, but the CNL train originated in Amsterdam and was delayed three hours before leaving for Cologne. Because of the length of the delay, the train was re-routed and would not stop in Cologne, but instead would stop in the small town of Wuppertal more directly located between Amsterdam and Prague. After waiting a few hours at Cologne, with its large and comfortable terminal, we hopped a local train to Wuppertal to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Now I'm sure Wuppertal is a wonderful place but standing on a freezing platform at a tiny local train station for the two hours before midnight with little to no information on the expected arrival time and no open restrooms would try the patience of a saint, not to mention the handful of children and hundreds of adults sharing the platform. To their credit, the children behaved admirably, most making a bed from a pile of luggage. We pitied the poor Deutsche Bahn representative that was working the information booth – J's German did well in digesting the slivers of available information announced over the loudspeaker, and she didn't feel the need to harass the rep with questions. The Germans on the platform felt the need and did so at high volume...

Finally at just after 1am the train arrived and relieved, we rushed aboard before making a way to our berth. Cold and tired, we felt increasingly smug about our decision to get a private sleeper car as we trudged by compartment after compartment filled with backpackers avoiding eye-contact and spreading out their bags as much as possible.

There was a silver lining to the delay: the train was originally scheduled to leave Cologne around 6PM, and arrive in Prague in the early morning. With the late departing, we looked forward to sleeping in and watching the Czech countryside pass by over breakfast. We brushed our teeth at the tiny sink in the room and fell asleep as the train clacked down the tracks.


In the middle of the night the train stopped, waking J and she woke me up and requested I accompany her on an excursion to the small restroom located at the end of the car. A bit grumpy and only half-awake, I agreed and stumbled down the hall. Ever chivalrous, I tried the facilities first to make sure everything was in proper working order. Then, while waiting for J, I stood staring out the back door of the train car. Oddly, I noticed our car was now the last in the train—the cars behind us had evidently been separated off to join another train going to Warsaw or some other eastern city. As I looked around I could see the train was under the covering of a station. Then, with a small jolt, it started moving forward.

Watching the station recede felt like a dream. Then, with the train out from under the cover of the station, I noticed a point appear above the outline of the roof. I stood and watched the TV tower rise hypnotically over the Berlin Hauptbahnhof (main train station) and found myself surprised by the realization that I knew exactly where I was. We had been in Berlin in September 2007 for a computer conference and the Fernsehturm (TV tower) is a distinguishing feature of the city skyline. A magical moment.

J reappeared and it was back to the bunks until the conductor woke us for breakfast. I had to try the shower in the bathroom at the end of the hall under the theory you haven't lived until you've tried to shower in a moving train (rest assured, a stout support bar drops in place across the open side of the shower stall). Freshly scrubbed and without readily apparent bruises I rejoined J for a breakfast of bread, cheese, juice, coffee and the Czech staple, liverwurst (after a dutiful tasting, liverwurst was judged an “acquired taste”).


We were awake for the last hour of the ride as the train followed along a river valley dotted with picturesque towns and rocky crags, punctuated by grotesque Soviet-era housing projects. Finally, with a light rain falling, the train pulled into Prague and we bundled out to take a streetcar into the heart of the city.