Is there a point in every marriage where you realize you don’t know your spouse as well as you thought? That moment for me came when I stumbled upon a half-price sale for Interrail passes and decided to book a pair for a late-summer adventure. As I eagerly planned our romantic journey, my beloved shattered my dreams by declaring that sitting on trains for two weeks was not his idea of a vacation.
It was then that I discovered the small print stating there were no refunds or name changes. I was faced with only one option – to embark on this adventure alone. The prospect was slightly daunting, but I recalled my days as a fiercely independent traveler, roaming the world on assignments for the Guardian.
I remembered my first experience with Interrailing as an ignorant 18-year-old in 1999. By the end of the trip, I was no longer on speaking terms with my travel companion. We had argued over paying the supplement for a fast train to Milan and the wisdom of sleeping on a platform for an early departure. In hindsight, going solo seemed quite appealing, with the freedom to make my own decisions.
As I set off from my home in Stockport with a more generous budget of £100 a day, I knew I wouldn’t be roughing it like I did in my younger years. It’s important to note that Interrailing is no longer a cheap holiday, especially if you don’t have half-price tickets and someone to split the hotel bills. Nonetheless, I managed to save some money by traveling during rush hour.
The journey wasn’t as spontaneous as one might imagine, especially when it came to crossing the Channel. Eurostar only offers a limited number of seats for Interrail pass holders, and the popular routes fill up quickly. This led to a change in my plans, with Paris becoming my starting point instead of Amsterdam.
I arrived in Paris just in time for dinner at Les Philosophes in the Marais. As I sipped on red wine and indulged in a generous portion of duck rillettes, I couldn’t help but wish my husband was there to share the moment. At the bougie hostel, The People, I paid a bit too much for a bunk in a four-woman dorm. The next morning, I questioned whether my red wine consumption had caused me to snore after receiving a filthy look from one of my roommates. It became clear that I was too old for hostels.
After a few days in Antibes, where I enjoyed the beautiful beaches and the assistance of friendly strangers, I continued my journey into Italy. I stopped in Sanremo, a town renowned for hosting one of my favorite bike races. High up in the old town, I stayed in an old hotel surrounded by narrow alleyways. The art deco villas captivated me as I admired them from below.
Without anyone to comment on my choices, I took the fast train to Milan before continuing to Tirano on the Swiss border. From Tirano, I boarded the Bernina Express, known as the Red Train. This extraordinary train journey took me through the highest railway tracks in Europe and the steepest in the world. The panoramic carriages, with their floor-to-ceiling windows, were definitely worth the extra cost. The Brusio spiral viaduct and the complimentary Edelweiss tea and Swiss chocolates were among the highlights of the trip.
After an overnight stay in Chur, where I was shocked to be charged £5 for a cup of tea, I crossed the border into Austria. Swimming in Lake Constance in Bregenz was a delightful experience before heading back to Cologne to overcome the memories of my disastrous trip in 1999. The final stop on my solo adventure was Brussels, marking the end of my whirlwind tour of six countries in 10 days.
Would I recommend solo Interrailing? Absolutely. The freedom to go wherever I pleased and make impromptu decisions was invigorating. However, I often felt self-conscious when wandering alone at night. I would do it all over again, but next time I wouldn’t bother buying my husband a ticket.
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