Night Trains, (noun) /nīt/ /trān/, the single handedly most miserable night you’ll spend before having infant children(I’m guessing).

That was what we had between Amsterdam and Berlin, I can-not NOT recommend it enough, although once we got into Berlin, albeit at 5 am, we were able to sleep.

I met up with an old friend I hadn’t seen in close to 6 years that I used to work with in Northern Ontario, and who now lived in Berlin. We caught up with a beer in a park, the park although was a bombed out train station from the first world war. Grass growing and people playing frisbee around ruble and half standing walls. Most of it was gone, but there still remained enough to know what was once there.

After that we walked up to the remnants of the Berlin wall, which a large portion had been turned into paintings on the wall, into how people had viewed the wall through the decades that it stood. Taking a tour of the city, we saw the Brandenburg gates, Check point Charlie and they ever pointed out where it’s said  Hitler shot him self, it’s now a parking lot as to not give any reference or monument to him.

Berlin, as a city, felt like how I though Paris would from Moulin Rouge, very bohemium, very ‘les afair’. It felt as if it wasn’t a city part of one of the strongest economic powers in the world. The clubs there would go till 11 am the next day, kicking the hell out of Canada’s 1-2 am last calls. The day I left Berlin I could still hear bass heavy dance coming from a warehouse just off the tracks, people obviously still enjoying the night, despite the rising sun.

From Berlin I left on my own, my traveling buddy had to fly back to Canada, I was off to Munich.