London to Dusseldorf by train...

The day, Wednesday 31st May 2023, started with a negative edge in the shape of a train strike. I don't even know why there was a strike. I thought things had been sorted out weeks ago. But no, they clearly haven't been, and as far as I knew when I woke up, the strike was total and there was no way I was going to get a straightforward ride into town from my local station, a mere seven minutes' walk from where I live. I don't like taking taxis at the best of times: first, I think they're a rip-off and should only be used if absolutely necessary, like last month's trip to Detroit, which started with a cab ride because I had too much 'stuff' to carry. But when it's just a suitcase, depending on its weight, I prefer public transport, not that it was on offer. 

"I haven't got a cab for at least an hour," said the man at the other end of the telephone when I called my local cab company. Fine, I'll have to work something out. Another reason not to like taking a cab is the racist small talk. I don't want to listen to some Brexiteer moaning about the Mayor of London or referring to the capital as 'Londonistan'.

31/5/23 leaving London at 1104hrs.

I managed to get a lift to East Croydon (from where there were no trains) but I had already figured on using the Tramlink service to Wimbledon and then jumping on a tube train from there, all the way to St. Pancras International. I was supposed to 'tap in' with my debit card before I boarded the tram (I later discovered) but had been told otherwise by a woman on the platform; and I'm now starting to wonder whether she deliberately fed me with duff information, she was, after all, a seasoned tram user herself (or so I initially thought) and should have told me to tap in on the platform, like she had probably done. Anyway, it was all academic as the inspectors rarely jump on the tram (a friendly postman told me) and it turned out he was right. In other words I managed to dodge the fare all the way to Wimbledon and that was simply because I didn't want to risk getting up, running to the tap-in point on the platform and then missing the train and watching it pull out of the station with my suitcase full of clothes and a laptop. I think I would have preferred a fine to that awful fate. Still, it never happened and I jumped on to the platform at Wimbledon to discover (much to my surprise) that there were trains from Wimbledon into town. Good old South West Trains, I thought. I was advised to alight at Vauxhall, change to the Victoria Line and ride all the way to King's Cross, which is what I did. Perfect! 

I had arrived with loads of time to spare, but then again, not really. They were already beckoning people travelling on the 1104 to Amsterdam to 'go through security' so in I went and soon I emerged on the other side. I was up very early, something crazy like 0500hrs, so five hours later I was in need of sustenance and a cup of tea. I also invested in an almond croissant, but I started to wish I hadn't. Sometimes I wonder if I need to eat or whether it's a comfort thing. My sister called. We talked about mum who had fallen over again, she's fine though. I then sat there awaiting the time for boarding and soon I was travelling up to platform 9 on the moving walkway and looking forward to taking my seat in coach four (seat 98). Everything was smooth-running. Eurostar, incidentally, was not on strike. I was travelling to Brussels Midi and the plan was to pick up another train to Dusseldorf from Köln (Cologne). 

A beer in Brussels

As I emerged from the tunnel and found myself on the European side of the English Channel I noted, as always, that the roads were empty. We whistled through Calais Frethun, a station I remember from a trip I took some time ago when editing another magazine. I remember sitting there on the lonely, quiet and virtually empty station drinking a bottle of Kronenbourg 1664. I can't remember where I was going or why, but I'll always remember the desolation of the platform and a strange sense of being stranded in the middle of nowhere. 

It's been four years since I was last in Brussels just ahead of the lockdown. I think it was November 2019. I remember looking at watches in a Swatch shop and eventually buying one (in London) that I'd seen while in Belgium's capital city (at least I think it's the capital city). 

I decided not to get the 1425 train, which ultimately stopped at Frankfurt and was about to depart for Dusseldorf from platform 3. Instead I waited for the 1622, which would get me into Dusseldorf at 1900hrs. My decision was influenced by the fact that I couldn't book a seat, it was too late for that, and I didn't fancy all the potential grief of standing up and not being able to sit down. A seven o'clock arrival time was still early in my book. It was, therefore, time for lunch in La Brasserie de la Gare across the road from Brussels Midi station. I'd been there before, although I know not when, but certainly pre-pandemic. I ordered a pasta dish, which was very pleasant, and two small bottles of Leffe 00, which turned out to be very nice indeed. The sun was shining down, there were blue skies and, as it was only hours away from being June, I guess it was the perfect summer's day.

Waiting for the Koln train...

I needed to buy an adaptor but couldn't find a shop that sold them and almost risked missing my train, so I pulled myself together and vowed to check out the electronics shops in Dusseldorf if there was time. There wasn't. There never is. The journey was pleasant, mainly because nobody was sitting next to me, although I didn't have a full window, which was annoying. I sat there reading Murakami, eating a Twix and drinking English Breakfast tea from a paper mug. Having experienced the journey before by train I immediately remembered Liege when the train arrived. I remembered Aachen station from a trip I took ages and ages ago; I think I was en route to Dortmund and then a place called Ludenscheid (that was a drunken trip if I recall. I was 19 years old). I stayed in the Hotel Zum Adler and probably still have the receipt as I think it was my first ever trip abroad way, way back in the mists of time.

The train took me as far as Köln and I had a 15-minute wait for a local train to Dusseldorf, arriving around 1900hrs.

It was good to be back in my favourite German city and I wasted no time in walking to the Novum Madison Hotel from where I write this post. It's not a flash hotel by any means, but I've stayed here before (during a very hot summer's week in June 2019) and it was all I needed. I'm not one for flash hotels, can't stand them, especially those huge corporate places full of suits. Don't get me wrong, the Madison is not dirty or down at heel in any way, it's just an average hotel close to the central station and it offers proper room keys, none of that key card crapola. The check-in was easy and I took the small and silent lift to the third floor and room 304, which was literally on my right as I stepped out. I felt a bit miffed at the fact that my room was so close to the elevator as it meant that I would hear everybody who passed my door, even if they arrived late or were coming back from some drunken revelry in the early hours. Again, I wasn't really bothered as it's quite pleasant lying there in the dark listening to the comings and goings of strangers. I remember once, in a Quality Inn on the wrong side of town in Pittsburgh, listening to a couple arguing in the next room. I wondered whether one or both of them were packing pieces and whether the sound of gunfire might have disturbed the peace of the early morning. Nothing happened. 

Room 304, Novum Madison

My room at the Madison was very similar to the room I had here four years ago – in fact it was identical – and for a while I thought it was the same room, but it wasn't as the room I had in 2019 (room 416) overlooked Karlstrasse, the road on which my favourite restaurant, Da Bruno, resides. Check out how similar the two rooms are by clicking here.

After sorting myself out – and by that I mean putting all my clothes in the wardrobe and kind of 'setting up shop' – I was ready to go out and have dinner. Da Bruno hasn't changed a bit. In fact it's the same people running it and they remembered me, which is always good. They do have more competition than when I was here last. For a start, the sex supermarket across the road has gone and has thankfully been replaced by a restaurant, and there were two or three new eateries virtually next door. I had the strange feeling that they wouldn't be as good as Da Bruno so I didn't bother investigating. I certainly had no intention of 'pulling up a chair' as I was intent on enjoying 'my favourite restaurant'. By and large, it hasn't really changed, although I did wonder about the portion sizes. I ordered Parma ham and melon – yes, I know, a very dated dish if ever there was one, and I swear it was smaller and less impressive than the same dish I ordered four years earlier. It wasn't worth complaining about. In fact, less ham is far better for me, so I accepted it, not that I would have said anything. For mains I chose pappardelle with mushrooms and I didn't bother with dessert. I took the liberty of booking a table (for one) for the following night (tonight) at 2000hrs as I really can't be bothered to go trawling around the city looking for somewhere decent to eat. Perhaps I should do that, I've done it many times before but have always ended up settling for second best and then feeling disappointed and eager to pay up and get back to the hotel. It's currently 1921hrs, so in around 40 minutes from now I'll be heading on over there. Perhaps Da Bruno had simply lost the pizzazz of presentation, perhaps there had been a change of chef, I don't know, but it was still my favourite restaurant whichever way I looked at it even if the mushrooms in my pasta dish were just bog standard, nothing special, which, perhaps, they might have been four years earlier. In truth I don't know.

View from room 304

Today is Thursday. I spent most of Wednesday travelling and I'll be honest, I prefer it to flying. Cost-wise there's not much in it. The 188 Euros I spent on a return ticket to Dusseldorf from Brussels was less than the two £80 + taxis I would have needed to ferry me to and from the airport – and I would definitely have taken a taxi to the airport yesterday rather than endure public transport during a strike (the ride to St Pancras sans strike is a doddle depending on how much luggage I have and how heavy it is).

A sleepless night awaited me. I awoke around 0200hrs – I didn't know what time it was until I turned on the television as my iphone had run out of power and I didn't have a watch. I remember looking at my watch before I left home and thinking 'do I need it?' No, I must have thought. Note to self: always wear a watch on foreign trips.

Having woken up in the very early hours, I spent a fretful time hoping that if I did fall asleep I would wake up in time to get a train to Mönchengladbach. I was worried about the journey because I couldn't find a thing on Trainline and started to think there might be some kind of problem. So I drifted in and out of sleep, having strange dreams I can barely remember in great detail. I was out of bed by around 0530hrs, but then I simply lay there until around 0600hrs when I had a shower, shaved and got ready for the day ahead.

Starter at Da Bruno

Breakfast was fine: a bowl of cereal with added strawberry yoghurt plus two mini pastries and a mug of green tea. As I sat there, in a kind of sleepy daze, a bespectacled old crab appeared in front of me and started to berate me for leaving the water tap on when I made my tea. In all honesty I'm not sure this is 100% true as it's a natural reaction to turn the tap off, ie stop the flow of water, before removing the cup, which is what I did; so whether it somehow came on without my knowledge after I'd gone back to my table, I'll never know. But basically I took the bollocking, if that's what it was. Well, it wasn't so much a bollocking, just her telling me I did it and me sitting there looking dazed and confused and dressed like a clown with huge red shoes and a red nose (not really). Rather than continue sitting there on a kind of metaphorical 'naughty step' I got up and left.

Breakfast over I headed for Dusseldorf Central Station, mere minutes from the Madison, and jumped aboard the 0848 train to Mönchengladbach after spending a considerable amount of time messing around with the ticket vending machine. I spent most of the day in a meeting before walking a good 7km from the meeting place back to the railway station in the afternoon heat, hoping for the joy of a friendly gust of wind, always most welcomed in the summer heat. I took a suburban train back to Dusseldorf and then, after a little bit of work, I went out for my second sitting at Da Bruno. Today I ordered Mozzarella with tomato followed by a rather staid-looking spaghetti bolognaise and finished off with tiramisu. Yes, I wish I hadn't bothered with dessert, and because I was feeling so guilty about it I decided to walk to the Alt Stadt (old town). I reached the Rhine, took a photograph and then walked back and now I am in my hotel room, tired and ready for bed. I hope I burned off a few calories to compensate for that dessert. I'd better hit the sack. I need to be out of the hotel before noon as that's when my train for Köln departs. It's 2245 as I write this and I have my phone working again so I can set an alarm, although I don't really need to as there's no work tomorrow. I'll probably take a wander around town but in a different direction, check out a few shops, possibly have a coffee somewhere (I've been drinking a lot of English Breakfast tea) and then head for the station which, as I said, is but a five-minute walk from the hotel. It'll be a long day tomorrow but not half as stressful as flying. I'll sit on board the train, I've got a book to read, I don't need to be preoccupied with a flight and what's going on outside the window, I can just relax and chill, which is all I really want to do.

On my way to the old town after dinner, burning calories...

It's now Friday morning, 2nd June 2023 and it's 0602hrs. I'm going to throw some warm water over my face and then head down for breakfast. After that it's anyone's guess what I'll do next. I'll definitely pack things away and then check out and I'll probably leave my luggage with the concierge, not that there is a concierge at the Madison, it'll be whoever is on the front desk. Lots of hotels don't have a concierge and the word is often used in connection with leaving bags to be picked up later. I'm looking forward to the journey home because trains are involved. I don't have to be there two hours before take-off, I don't have to take the Sky Train to the airport, go through security, keep an eye on the weather, there's nothing fretful apart from the trains being late, which I hope they won't be. Germany's pretty good on stuff like punctuality, but let's not count chickens.

Maxplatz...

I often ask myself why I like Dusseldorf and why I refer to it as my 'favourite city'. One reason is its closeness to the UK. A flight from London varies from 55 to 70 minutes and once you land it's only a short journey to the centre of town, unlike the deal in London when you've got an expensive taxi ride into town. Then there's the fact that it's relatively safe here, that's why I wandered alone towards the old town last night. People are out enjoying themselves in the bars and restaurants that line the streets. Last night my stroll started on Bismarckstrasse – now that's an interesting road – and I walked in roughly a straight line all the way down to the Rhine and then back again. I've stayed in a few hotels here too, the Burns Art Hotel, the Friends hotel and the Mercure, and probably others too, and they've all been pleasant. Then there's my favourite restaurant and, of course, the generally friendly vibe of the city. I used to say my favourite city was Portland, Oregon, because of Powell's Books, the world's biggest bookstore and for other reasons, such as the Ace Hotel on First Avenue, but I haven't had cause to return and things, sadly, have taken a turn for the worse, thanks to Fentanyl addiction and possibly other forms of dereliction. I've been watching a few reports on YouTube and it's sad to see a city fall from grace in such a big way, but that won't stop me returning there one day, if only to spend the night in the Ace Hotel. I'd better get ready for breakfast.

I reached the Rhine as the sun started to set...