Interrail Diary

If you haven’t actually been Interrailling before, the chances are you’ve probably heard of it. A train ticket that allows you to travel around Europe like some bohemian vagabond, choosing your destinations on a whim; a master of your own destiny; a journeyman on an endless quest for culture and enlightenment.

Actually its not quite so simple as my grandiose intro may paint it. You still need to plan a fair bit, a lot of trains need to be pre-booked, you’d be wise to sort out hostels or hotels in advance, and packing is an art form in itself. But get all that down and it’s a chance to visit a wealth of places across the continent in one fell swoop.

I never went Interrailling when I was younger (I’m 33 now), I never actually did any sort of travelling in fact. But there’s no time like the present, so my mum always tells me. So as a single man with a load of annual leave burning a whole in his HR file, it seemed like a nice idea to go and see some of the world. Well Europe at least.

When I made the decision I had absolutely no idea where I wanted to go. I bought a 15 day adult pass on the Interrail website for £315 then sat down in front of a map to work out my route. I was there for quite a while.

My first attempt at coming up with a feasible route saw me heading from London to Paris, down to Cannes, through Italy, across to Greece, up through Croatia and Slovenia then back through Switzerland and Belgium. Sounds amazing, but the logistics just didn’t work out. If I was to pull it off I’d end up spending only a couple of hours in some places, with the majority of my trip spent on trains and ferries. I had toyed with the idea of using overnight trains to make up the time. But I’m 33, I don’t want to spend the day wandering around half asleep and grouchy. I need a good 8 hours.

So I started again. This time I went the other way round and limited the number of locations to allow me at least a day in each. From Paris I’d head across to Zürich and Salzburg, then head down through Austria and into Italy. I’d make my way across Italy and over to the south of France, ending my trip in Cannes for a relaxing couple of days by the sea. Perfect.

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The next stage was to use the Interrail itinerary tool. Here I’d work out the various trains I’d need to take on the trip. Yes, you can just hop on and off trains, but only some of them. You could probably make your way around using these non reservation services but they’re far from the quickest route and you’ll probably have to change a few times. If you’re hoping to cover a fair bit of ground on your trip then you’ll probably want to use some of the more direct services available. For that you need to book seats at an additional cost.

It’s a pretty long process but by the end you’ll have a full itinerary of the trains you want to take. Once done you just submit it to Interrail who’ll run through the details and, a few days later, send you a revised itinerary including the additional ticket costs.

My bill for the additional tickets was £150, which took my total for travel on the trip up to £465. I submitted the payment and sat back waiting for the post to arrive a couple of weeks later.

Next I booked hostels. I was moving house at the time so didn’t want to spend more than I had to. I’ve also never been particularly bothered about sleeping arrangements on trips so I opted for the cheaper route. You can stay in dorms of multiple random travellers if you want, but I decided to pay more for some private rooms. Glass of wine and a nice book, that’ll do me.

I went through dozens of hostel booking websites searching for the best deals, working out the distance from them to the train stations I’d be travelling to and from. Some were easy, some took some major work. I booked each with a deposit as well as cancellation insurance, just in case, then I printed all of the details.

Then all I needed to do was book the Eurostar, get insurance and sort out my European insurance health card.

Told you it wasn’t that simple.

So with my planning done, my documents printed and my travel adapter bought, I was ready to go. Finally.

I didn’t just want to write an overview of the trip, so instead I kept a diary while I was there. It’s a long one. I suggest you grab yourself an Orangina from the fridge, put the cat out, run a bath, then sit back and enjoy.


Day one

Packed a rucksack full of clothes, mainly T-shirts, my laptop, a book – Station Eleven, chargers and plug socket.

I decided to spend the first day largely travelling as I my elation at being on holiday offset the boredom of sitting on a train. Set off on the 7.55am from St Pancras. I love the Eurostar, partly because I’m not that fond of flying, but largely because it’s just so easy. They need some better food places inside though. Cafe Nero doesn’t exactly set a trip off with a bang.

They refurbished the chairs as well. Means you get a plug socket. Fell asleep instantly.

Arrived in Paris about 11.30am so had a couple of hours before my train at 2.30pm from Gare du Lyon. Decided to have a nice walk down.

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If you’re visiting Paris for a few days it can be beautiful. There is some amazing stuff there. If you’re walking through it to catch a train it’s not quite so nice.

Gare du Lyon was rammed. Couldn’t find a seat and was accosted by a heavily drunk gentleman shouting something in French before climbing a pole and singing. Sat in a coffee shop and ate an overpriced ham baguette.

Jumped on the train to Zürich. Really nice. Comfy, massive seats. Started reading Station Eleven. Hooked straight away. Journey of four hours flew by.

Arrived in Zürich about seven. The contrast to Paris was pretty heavy. Calm, clean, relaxed. The scenery around it is amazing. Wandered to my hostel sat above a bar. Surprised with how nice it was. Went for a wander at night and stopped for some food in a little Mexican restaurant.

Got back, realised I hadn’t packed my Mac charger and that Switzerland uses different adapters to the rest of Europe. Not a good start.


Day two

Decided to get up early to visit a little mountain next to the city called the Uetliberg.

Headed in to the centre to get some breakfast then went into the train station. Used the ticket machine with some chap helping me. Everyone in Zürich seems extremely friendly. The ticket cost about £14.

The train took about twenty minutes from the central station to the top of the mountain 800 meters above sea level. Had to walk uphill for about ten minutes then climbed the stairs to the top of the viewing gallery. It was pretty cloudy, definitely want to come back on a sunny day. Would be awesome for cycling.

Came back down and headed to the lake. Yep, there’s a city, a mountain and an enormous lake. Couldn’t see a great deal. Added to the list for next time.

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Jumped on the train about 3pm for a six-hour journey to Salzburg. Train was really nice, finished the first book of the trip, Station Eleven. Wasn’t expecting to like it so much but it was a damn good read. Must download her other ones.

Arrived at the station at about 9pm. Luckily, and by pure chance, I’d picked a hostel right next to it. Nice little room with a big screen TV. Ended up watching an Ashton Kutcher film in German, wasn’t great. Although I don’t think it lost anything through my inability to speak the language. Probably made it better.


Day three

Breakfast was your standard Austrian fair; cheese, watered down salami and cakes. Had a slight misunderstanding with a raw boiled egg – people stared as I knocked the top off and it spilled all over the table. You have to boil it yourself apparently.

Spent the morning in Salzburg old town. Lots of baroque stuff and a massive fortress on top of a hill. Was pretty interesting.

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Best part of the day was the pretzels.

Jumped on the next train to Villach at 2.40pm. Short journey this time of about two hours. Found out that you can save articles to your smartphone if you download the Wikipedia app so I created my own tour guide with each destination on.

Realised halfway through the journey that I was basically doing a tour of the Alps. The train took us within the valleys leading through the mountain range. It was still pretty cloudy but I could see a few mountains. The train even ended up going through snow. Seemed a bit strange when I was heading to a beach in Italy within the next couple of days.

Villach was a strange choice in hindsight. I went for it because I’d never actually heard of it. I thought it might be quite interesting. It’s the kind of town you might find about an hour north of London, maybe Stevenage. The hostel I stayed in was a youth sports complex. I had two bunk beds to myself, no WiFi and no TV. It was a bit like I imagine prison might be.

It was quite far from the town and by the time I got there I couldn’t be bothered to go back. I decided to sit and watch an episode of David Attenborough’s Africa. By 7.30pm I got bored with the room so headed out to an oddly placed Chinese restaurant next to the badminton courts. Aside from myself there was one older gentleman, probably some sort of PE teacher. He soon left and it was just me sat drinking a beer whilst a lady shouted at someone in the kitchen.

Oddly, as I ate my solitary meal, a gentleman came out of the kitchen with a bag. Sitting down on the table next to me both he opened it and pulled out a number of receipts. Joined by the woman they began to go through their finances.

I quickly ate my meal – not sure Austria is known for its Chinese restaurants – and headed back to my bunk.

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Based on the fact there was no TV. No WiFi or no hotel bar, I spent the rest of the evening reading Vile Bodies. I’d been meaning to read it for a while.


Day four

I wandered downstairs about 7am to find about seventy 15-year-olds eating breakfast. I went back upstairs for another hours sleep. At 8am it was empty. I decided to mix sugar puffs, Coco pops and some muesli together with yoghurt. Pretty damn pleased with the result. Had another bowl. Finished with a bread roll with some cheese and watered down salami.

It was raining quite heavily so I stuck on my trusty Finisterre waterproof and made my way into town. I found a guide brochure on my way out of the hostel to help find something to take photos of.

Unfortunately, apart from a church, every location was basically a house with some sort of history behind it. I decided against filling my camera with photos of generic Austrian houses and took a couple on the bridge.

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Villach doesn’t have much in terms of coffee shops so I headed to the station. Chatted to some Canadian girl there who also stayed in the youth hostel. “I had breakfast in town,” she said after seeing the amassed teenagers.

My next stop was Trieste, via a place called Udon. As we the train made its way into Italy I watched as the mountains disappeared into the distance and it suddenly became quite flat. Aside from the sun appearing, the most noticeable difference as we neared Trieste were the changing designs of the buildings along the way.

Arrived in Trieste about 2pm and dropped my stuff off at the hotel. Not a bad little place, not much in the way of luxuries, and a shared bathroom, but for €29 a night I wasn’t arguing.

I made my way into town with my camera to see what Trieste was like. Apart from Villach, Trieste was the only place on the trip I knew absolutely nothing about. My first stop was the sea. A long concrete semi circular bay stretches out for miles into the distance. Both sides with a backdrop of mountains (not massive mountains, but mountains none the less).

It was an impressive sight. People sat on the various jetties that led out into the Adriatic. Some sunbathing, some reading books. A far cry from the wet and cold places I’d arrived from.

I headed into town to grab a coffee and ended up climbing a set of stairs leading to the top of a hill overlooking the city. I popped into a cathedral, had a sit down in a beautifully tiered park and then decided to head out further down the bay to wait for the sun to set. It was pretty nice.

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Got back to the hotel with a bag of food and spent the evening reading.


Day five

Woke up to find it was raining heavily outside. I had a train at 9.30am to Venice, so I headed straight to the station. Grabbed myself a San Pellegrino Chino (really bitter orange variant, you can get them in England but I’d never tried it) and a weird sandwich which was basically a ball of ham and egg squashed into a bread triangle, no crusts, then jumped on the train.

Ended up getting off at the wrong stop and wandered around a place called Venice Merza thinking Venice is a bit crap. Realised my error when I noticed it was a 10 Mile walk to the hotel and jumped back on the train.

Pretty amazing taking a train across the sea. A bit like some kind of Sci-fi film starring someone like Ethan Hawke.

Arrived in Venice and realised it’s actually pretty nice. The sun was shining and it was ridiculously busy. Spent about half an hour trying to find the hostel using Google maps and the directions on the website. Eventually found it and had to ring a number. Turns out the hotel is basically a small flat with three rooms. Slightly strange. A lady let me in and sat me down to run through the paperwork. Was a bit like a job interview. I noticed the kitchen had various warning signs all over it.

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After she left I picked up my camera and wandered into Venice.

My knowledge of Venice, much like everything on this trip, was relatively slim. If you haven’t been before, understanding what it’s like from someone else’s description is pretty difficult. It’s essentially a labyrinthine maze of trinket shops, ice cream (well, gelato, it’s different – I watched a documentary in Salzburg) shops, expensive high Street stores and pizza restaurants. All built on a series of islands connected by little bridges.

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If you thought Westfield was bad, then you’ll probably cry in Venice. Conversely if you like shopping then book your tickets now.

After wandering around the tightly compact buildings and canals for a few hours I was desperate to find some space where I could sit down without needing to dodge vacant-looking tourists. I finally stumbled upon a big open square. Oddly a woman was stood in the centre singing a rendition of Natalie Imbruglia’s Torn, which slightly ruined the Venetian ambiance for me. She went quiet after a few minutes and disappeared.

Went back to the apartment for a couple of hours and waited for sunset. My sister had told me that Venice is much nicer when all the tourists were gone for the day. She was right, I put my headphones on, put on some Vivaldi in a pathetic attempt to “soak up the atmosphere” and spent the next couple of hours wandering down empty alleys and canals. Finished the day sat overlooking the Laguna (basically the sea) and eating a packet of tomato flavoured crisps.

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Day six

Packed my things and pottered to the train station. Changed at Venice Metra and Bologna before arriving in Rimini. Another error on my trip, visiting a seaside resort out of season. Before getting there I had a loose idea of taking it easy for a day and sitting on the beach to read my book with a holiday beer. at 14 degrees with a fair bit of cloud I gave up on that idea

Dropped my bags off at the Sunflower City Backpackers hostel. If the website is anything to go by, it’s one hell of a party spot in the summer months. In mid October it’s considerably quieter. Nice though. Friendly people, nice little bar and outdoor area, computers, communal area. Well worth a look for a summer stag or hen do.

I had a walk down the largely deserted beach, hoping to find an open bar, but it wasn’t to be. The coastline is completely covered in bars and restaurants, would love to see it in high season. Gave up on my beach beer dream and headed into the town. Rimini is a nice little place, a bit like Bournemouth. Not a massive town but plenty going on. Lots of ruins and churches to amble around as well as its own bar quarter.

Grabbed myself some food and went back to the hotel. Decided to have a night sorting out some photos and do some general admin before setting off early for San Marino in the morning.


Day seven

Had some toast in the hostel (yeah, they do breakfast as well, not bad for €26) then walked back to the station to jump on the bus to San Marino.

Once again – this is pretty much the theme for the trip – I knew nothing about San Marino. It is, apparently, the oldest Republic in the world. It’s a state that sits within its own borders with a population of around 32,000. Of all the places on the trip this was the one I was most excited about. Largely due to the fact I like being on a mountain.

As the train pulls into Rimini you can see San Marino in the distance, it appears, to someone who likes his fantasy stories, like some sort of fabled mountain. The castle towers just visible at the top of its peaks. It looks amazing.

I got on the bus, it costs €5 one-way and takes about an hour to wind its way around the mountain roads. It dropped us off at a bus park about a hundred metres below the highest point, you can either walk up or get a little bus that looks like a children’s theme park ride. I walked.

Stopped off at a shop on the way up where a happy shop steward shouted “Bonjourno” at me loudly. He watched as I perused the various chocolate bars, most of which were Kinder. As I picked one up he smiled knowingly at me and said “Ahhhh, Kit Kat” before nodding his approval of my choice. Never before have I been so certain that I’d made the right snack decision. I left, a sense of pride and confidence never before gained from exiting a news agents.

After seven days of journeying through Europe, San Morino was by far the most impressive place. At 700 metres above sea level the panoramic views that circled the peak were awesome. The flats leading out to the Adriatic to the east and the rolling mountain to the north and west were breathtaking.

I paid €4.50 to walk around one of the castle towers, clambering up ladders and steps to get as high as possible for optimum photo taking. Really wish I’d brought a wide-angled lens.

I spent the next couple of hours sat at a restaurant drinking cappuccino and eating pizza (€5 for a massive pepperoni) whilst reading my book. There are few times in my life I’ve felt quite so relaxed. The sax solo from Curtis Steiger’s I Wonder Why was playing as I walked to my seat. Rick Astley’s Together Forever soon followed.

Took the bus back down to Rimini after having a wander around San Marino’s oddly placed weapon shops. Jumped back on the train and made my way to Florence.

Choosing to travel on the trains for two hours on a Sunday night was a bad idea. Ended up sitting on the buffet car from Bologna to Florence because I couldn’t even get to my seat.

Arrived in Florence about 9pm in the rain. Stupidly took a train to the other side of the city from my hostel so had to walk for half an hour to find it. Was actually quite nice though. The streets were almost empty.

Finding the hostel was largely impossible. Aside from the street numbers seemingly being placed randomly at various points, it turns out the place was located at the top floor of another hotel. Finally made it to the room. Dropped off my stuff and went out to grab some food. Ended up going to an Amsterdam chip shop, they seem pretty popular around this part of Italy.


Day eight

I got up pretty early as I was only in Florence for the morning. It was raining as I left the hotel. I decided to make my way to the river and loop back round through the centre to where I started near the train station.

Few cities look nice when the sky is grey with cloud and the morning traffic made any photo look largely depressing. I stopped off at a coffee shop for breakfast, by the time I’d left the sun had started appear. I looked at my map and decided to head south of the river to see the botanical gardens there.

I paid my 8 euros and walked up the countless steps to the top of the garden. Wasn’t actually planning to do any fitness for the two weeks but this was getting pretty close. By the time I’d lugged my stuff to the highest point the sun was beating down. It was worth it. The view stretched out across the city rooftops and various landmarks to a background of the mountains behind.

I wandered back down and looped through the city centre, it was pretty damn busy. I had planned to visit the original David statue at the Accademia Gallery, but the queue winding past the entrance said otherwise. I didn’t have time to hang about.

Walked around the enormous market and past the cathedral before making my way to the station. Next stop, Pisa.

In contrast to the heavily rammed streets of Florence, Pisa was actually relatively calm. By now it was really quite hot and people sat around the various outdoor restaurants drinking and eating pasta and pizza. The main street was nice, high Street stores like H & M ran were dotted around as the road led to the river.

The tower of Pisa is about 25 minutes walk from the city and you can’t see anything of it until you get there. When you do, you realise how impressive it really is. As landmarks go I’ve never been that bothered about ticking it off, but it’s well worth seeing.

Firstly, it’s massive. I’d always assumed it would be one of those landmarks which is somewhat underwhelming when you get there. But it is a phenomenon piece of architecture. The Piazza dei Miracoli area surrounding it is beautiful.

The only problem is the people. Seriously, that damn picture of people pushing it, there must be at least 50 people doing it at any one time. The walkway is about 500 metres around, took me about 40 minutes to navigate it due to the fact I had to keep stopping for someone holding their hands out being directed to the best position. I even saw a group of men with a professional camera moving people out of the way to get the best shot, took them about 15 minutes before they moved ten metres down to try from a different position.

I left and went back into town to get some pasta. My train wasn’t for a couple of hours so decided to have a a few beers. Not sure what I ordered but it was pretty strong. Ended up feeling a bit worse for wear by the time I got on the train.

The next stop was Genoa. This was only a sleep stop as I needed get up early to head to Monaco, sorry Genoa but I’d rather spend my last couple of days on the Côte d’Azur.

Turning up in Genoa at 9pm in the dark didn’t paint it in a particularly good light. Lone people were sat around the streets staring at me as I made my way to the hostel. Wasn’t the most comforting of places to be.

I found the hostel and it was actually really nice. The people running it were friendly and chatted away about the place. There was a massive main room that looked like common room in some kind of American frat house. A couple were sat on a sofa, the man sat wearing a skin-tight tweed jacket and playing a guitar whilst the woman, quite tunefully sang songs from the Sound of Music, a man sat on a table drawing lines on a large map whilst a woman sat eating some sort of grain-based meal whilst reading a poetry book. It was like I’d just set foot on a set for a T4 series in 2007.

I nipped out for some food. Couldn’t find anything then opted for a strange sort of mayonnaise based sandwich from a vending machine. I didn’t eat it all.

Got in, watched an episode of Life in the Undergrowth and went to bed.


Day nine

Got up at 7am and headed to the station via the sea front. Hoped to be able to take some pictures but the water is largely obscured my roads and industrial buildings and machinery. Grabbed myself a coffee and a got on the train for Monaco.

The journey was really nice, I sat overlooking the coast the whole way round, the morning sun coming up over the water. Save for an issue with me not having the right pass for the train it was possibly the nicest train route I’ve ever been on.

After a couple of hours I arrived in Monaco. You could pretty much smell the money as you walked through the station. By now the sun was beating down, it was like summer in England.

I wandered down to the port, grabbing a slice of pizza on the way. I can’t remember a time when I’ve actually seen a big privately owned yacht of this size up close but these things are phenomenal. As I sat and ate my pizza whilst watching the various deck hands mop the floors and clean the windows I didn’t see any sign of any owner anywhere on the ships. Presumably at a casino somewhere or dining out.

I wandered around the bay to get a better view. The enormous port area is enclosed by a big wall that acts as a viewing platform for both the city and the landscape the other side. I sat there for a while taking pictures and generally just watching people.

Nipped around the streets but decided to head to Cannes after a short time to drop my stuff off at the hotel. I jumped on the train again, it’s one hours from Cannes. Watched another episode of Life in the Undergrowth all about spiders.

Cannes is a beautiful place. The afternoon sun bathed the beach and port as thousands of tourist walked around. I noticed a significant amount of people were wearing suits and had lanyards hanging from their necks. Could I have arrived during some cool movie event where celebrities would be enjoying a few days in the French Riviera? Apparently not, it was The Duty Free and Travel Retail Global Summit, yep that’s right, The Duty Free and Travel Retail Global Summit. Decided not to try to gatecrash it.

Grabbed a can 7Up Mojito and sat by the sea for a bit. My sister, who seems to be some sort of tourist information service for European travel, told me I needed to take to Cannes tour around the city. So I bought myself a ticket for a thing called the Petite Train. Basically a motorised children’s fairground ride that takes tourist on an audio tour around the city.

I paid my 10 euros and jumped on. Must have been a quiet point in the day because only myself and a couple of other stragglers ended up taking the trip. I plugged in my headphones and we set off.

As we drove down the various streets and past notable places of film history, an excited voice-over dazzled us with facts. Things like how the Carlton hotel was where they launched the first Fantastic 4 film in 2007, and locations where they filmed The Transporter 2 and Goldeneye, the latter accompanied by a sample of Tina Turner singing the theme tune. It was moving stuff.

Perhaps the strangest part of the tour was being stuck in traffic for five minutes on the main shopping street listening to Madonna’s Vogue whilst hundreds of shoppers looked at three loners sat on a toy train.

Had a walk through the main square and watched a load of people playing Pétanque. Made a note to give it a go somewhere in London. Everyone playing looked extremely relaxed.

The hotel was a strange little place. Nice. Very French. Very boutique. My room oddly had a shower at the foot of the bed. Not away from the bed, literally at the foot of my bed. Which I suppose is quite convenient.

Dropped my stuff, bought a can of beer and sat on the beach to watch the sun go down. It was pretty nice.


Day ten

I’d booked my train back to Paris for 4pm, which I realised was a bit daft. My plan was to spend the day in Cannes, head back to Paris, go to bed then get the Eurostar at 7am. Back in London for 9pm.

With 5 hours to go and a massive backpack I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with my day. This was the first time in 9 days I didn’t have somewhere to be. I decided to just relax and enjoy the sun. I sat in a cafe overlooking the sea and just pondered for a bit before heading to the beach.

From there I went to a couple more cafes, a restaurant and made my way to the train station for my five-hour train. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to the journey, even with my newfound love of trains.

The journey actually went really quickly, save for a couple of hours where I was sat next to a fairly unhappy baby. I arrived in Paris and it was raining. I was still wearing my shorts and T-Shirt.

I jumped on the RER and went to Gare du Nord. My hotel was located about two streets away. Thought I’d treat myself on the last night. It wasn’t a bad hotel, pretty expensive for what it was considering it was about three times pricier than most I’d been in for the last nine days. There was a €5 charge to use the wi-fi, which is a joke. I went up to my room, watched New York! New York! and fell asleep.

The next morning I got up at 5.30. Packed my stuff and headed to the Eurostar. My final train journey. I Bought a croissant and an overpriced Americano, sat back and finished reading Vile Bodies.


Epilogue

So, what did I think of my Interrailing experience? Well, I loved it. I’ve never been the kind of person who enjoys a week-long trip to seaside resort. I get bored. I want to explore. I want to go and see something else. Moving to a different place every day was the perfect experience for my mentality. Every day I was excited about going to the next place. It was like collecting experiences, quickly ticking off place after place to add to my exploratory checklist.

For the first few days I thought about responsibilities back in England. Mainly planning work and thinking of interesting things I could do. I would sit in bed and write notes or remember a meeting I was meant to have but never got round to. By the last few days I barely even thought about things at home save for projects I wanted to do for myself or fun things with friends.

It’s been a long time since I’ve taken a two-week holiday, like eight years ago. It’s amazing the change in mindset you gain over it. With a week you know things at home are just waiting for you to get back to them, people in the office saying “we’ll leave that until he’s back on Monday.” But in two weeks a lot can go on, things are happening without you there and it opens up an amazing sense of detachment. You can just do the things you care about, read the things you want read. Even more so when you travel alone.

Yes travel broadens the mind, but it calms it as well. As I made my why around the various towns and cities there was a subconscious thought process growing in my mind. Millions of people passing you every day, different nationalities, different beliefs, different reasons for being there. To them I was just another person wandering by in a passing moment. The next day it was another place, with thousands more people. It offers a sense of perspective, a sort of relaxed way of thinking where you forget about those specific things going on in your immediate life. A place where you just sort of become engulfed in something bigger. Something where you can just go with a flow, unimpeded by the hurdles of your life.

It may have worked out a bit more expensive than I’d originally planned, and yes, I ended up staying in some pretty weird little places. But in ten days I covered a hell of a lot of ground. I saw a lot of things that would have taken me years if I’d done it in individual trips. If and when I do it again I’ll go further, maybe flying out to Croatia and making my way around Eastern Europe. Probably for a bit longer.

To find out more about the Interrail pass head over to the website here.

And, because we’re nice guys, here’s a handy list of tips for any would-be Interrailers. Let us know if we’ve missed anything.

Bon voyage.