In Dusseldorf...

In the dead of night, the trams sound like an invading force of tanks, rumbling to a stop four floors below me. If you need an early morning call and you're staying in what was the Novum Madison (but is now Garners, part of the IHG group) you can pretty much bet on the trams waking you up. They woke me up, on many occasions, and each time I simply lay there staring at the ceiling and, oddly, thinking of that moment in The Polar Express movie when the train arrives outside the boy's house and everything starts shaking and rattling.

Since IHG has taken over they've spruced the place up a bit, but not by much; there's still a rough edge to the place and they've replaced proper hotel room keys with, yes, those awful key card things. My room (room 44) is huge and I could easily play table tennis in what amounts to unwanted space between the bed and the wardrobe. That said, I'm glad I have a wardrobe and not, like the Moxy in Nashville, a few wooden hooks sticking out of the wall. There's a desk too so I was quids in having spent a whole week in the Music City without desk or wardrobe and then, a week later, the same scenario but in Rotterdam. Perhaps wardrobes and desks are not part of the future for hotels. Let's hope they remain in situ.

My favourite restaurant of all time was fully booked, Christmas parties apparently, even in late November, so I found myself trolling around the streets after dark looking for somewhere decent to eat and not really finding anywhere apart from the usual crapperama (pizza restaurants mainly). That said, there was a place called Pho, a Vietnamese place as far as I could gather, but unfortunately for me, my earlier desperation to eat something had led to a chocolate bar, a Ritter Sport, which I'd bought to break up a 50 Euro note. I just about managed to eat the spring rolls (which were great) but the huge bowl of noodles and strips of crispy fried duck, not forgetting the pak choi and everything else, was too much and for the first time in my life (I think) I admitted defeat. "No, no, no, it was great, it's just that I stuffed my face with a chocolate bar and now I'm full up," I said, meaning every word of it because it was true and hoping they'd understand, but of course they didn't give a damn, I was still paying.

Room 44, Garners Hotel...

Afterwards, I wandered around in the dark peering into shop windows before eventually returning to the hotel and later being rudely awakened by the aforementioned early morning trams. Not that I was getting much in the way of sleep. I was due to moderate the opening session of an event on the outskirts of town the following morning, so I found myself reading through what I had to do (as I always do on these occasions) and then getting back into bed and listening to the noises of the city outside the window. It wasn't just trams; somewhere out there was a drunk shouting the odds at someone or something before he was drowned out by yet another tram.

When the event was over, I was invited to dinner and accepted. I just made it back to the hotel and had enough time to put some power into my iphone before jumping into a cab and heading for the shopping district of town. All the big brand names were there, Max Mara, Fendi, you name it and while I managed to check out some expensive watches that I couldn't afford, I didn't really have time to dawdle about. Later I walked back to the hotel, it took all of 20 minutes. It's hard to get lost in Dusseldorf.

The following morning, after more early morning trams, and another loud drunk (perhaps it was the same guy) I had a late breakfast and then hoofed it down to Dusseldorf central station to buy a ticket to Brussels Midi. I then tidied the room, put my suitcases behind the front desk before heading off on a trek into nowhere, which ended prematurely in a coffee shop (Mr. Ben's Coffee Shop no less) where I ordered a cappuccino and a flapjack. I always think I can relax, but when I'm travelling and I have places to be at specific times I always find myself preoccupied with the time and can't really settle. I strolled back to the hotel, picked up my suitcase, loitered for a while and then headed for the station. Platform 15, 1254, but it was late, arriving just past 1300hrs, a short ride to Cologne and then another train, the one I'm on now, heading to Brussels, where I'll have another wait for my EuroStar train.

Dusseldorf has always been my favourite European city, or one of them. I like them all to be honest, apart from Paris. A couple of weeks ago I spent a few days in Udine in northern Italy; that was great, but it was ruined by the cheese and ham rolls and the sugary cakes, which were everywhere, and then there's Linz in Austria, which is a longish train ride from Vienna, home of The Third Man ferris wheel and other attractions. In Linz there used to be a shop called Wanke. Yes, I know, very juvenile, but also very funny. I don't think it's there anymore, perhaps the shop owner went blind.

View from Room 44...

I wasn't that keen on Rotterdam, which I keep misspelling as Rotherham, especially after seeing a giant rat waddle unaccompanied into a restaurant. I won't be eating there, I thought. On that occasion I was staying in an easyHotel, which is basically a room and that's it: no breakfast, no wardrobes and no desk, but it was fine, especially after my adventure in Nashville where I was first introduced to the concept of hotel rooms without wardrobes and desks. These things are sent to try us and ultimately I find myself accepting whatever I initially thought of as a problem. In fact, where the Moxy was concerned, I felt a little guilty about criticising the hotel as it all worked out in the end.

We've just left Liege in Belgium and the weather is piss poor: grey skies and drizzly rain. In fact, everything is grey, not just the sky but the roads and the buildings and probably the people too, everybody shuffling around in puffa coats and trainers. Or perhaps that's just the UK.

I'm now in Exki, it's a cafe on Brussels Midi station. I was here on the way out on Tuesday morning as I needed somewhere with wifi so I could attempt to book a train online. Why couldn't I use the ticket office like normal? Because there was a three-day public services strike and there were no ticket people working. It proved a huge problem and in the end I even considered flying to Dusseldorf, but in the end help was at hand and one person checked me in for a train to my favourite German city. Now I'm back, awaiting the 1756 EuroStar to London. I can't wait. I've ordered roughly the same as I ordered when I was last here on Tuesday afternoon, but again I have to complain about the cuisine. When you're on the road, the food is basically a load of rubbish. Here it was all cheese again: cheese quiche (I hate quiche) followed by a cheesecake and, foolishly, I bought a cookie, which I've yet to eat. I'd buy a cup of tea in which to dunk said cookie but time is running out and I'd probably miss my train.

Time is a real issue at the moment. It doesn't matter how early you get up, time seems to catch up with you. On the way out here I was awake around 0330hrs knowing that my alarm was going off at 0600hrs, but I couldn't sleep as I didn't want to oversleep and miss my train, so I got up and got everything ready and then I was given a lift to the station and I jumped on the 0709 train to London Victoria, took the tube to St Pancras International and then, after going through security and what have you and despite seemingly having enough time, it turned out that there was no time to chill whatsoever. I  just about managed to eat a custard Danish and drink a cup of tea and it was time to go. Soon the train was called, Platform Five, and suddenly we were off, heading for Brussels. And when I got to my destination I was told of the public services strike and time crept up on me again. I figured if the worse came to the worse I would fly, but as I said above, everything was suddenly fine, but by the time I reached Dusseldorf and checked into my hotel time was running out fast. There were no tables at my favourite restaurant and suddenly time was in free fall again. But you know all of this, I'm just saying how odd it is that even if you 'leave enough time' you soon don't have any left. It's like now, I've only got around 20 minutes before my alarm goes off and I have to check in for the EuroStar home, everything seems to run after everything else, I can't get off the roundabout. The only occasion when time stands still is if you get to the airport early, security is fast and you have the full two hours in a cafe somewhere.

So I'm sitting in Exki and for good reason. I could have gone through the barriers for the Eurostar but I know there's nothing there, nowhere to chill, just a shop selling tacky duty free tatterama and I don't want that, no sir. The friendly woman on the door so to speak told me that there would be an Exki inside the terminal in the new year, which is great. I'll remember that for when I next find myself here in Brussels.

Lastly, I don't know about you, but I really resent having to pay to go to the restrooms. I firmly believe that if "they" could charge you for the air you breathe they would. And something else, lights on timer switches. No! How many times have I fallen foul of them (read one of my previous posts on the Quo Vadis hotel in Udine for more). This time, I was in a cubicle when it went pitch black and again, I found myself waving my arms about trying to get the light to come on again. It did but I decided there and then to use my iphone light for when it goes off again (which it didn't). It's all very annoying. While I get the point of energy saving lights, not in the cubicle of a toilet, have some respect for heaven's sake. The last thing I need is to piss all over the floor because I can't see where I'm aiming. Surely, make sure the lights in the toilets are not on a timer OR that the timer is set to be on for, I don't know, 10-15 minutes. Give people a chance. It's 1648hrs and I've got around 10 minutes before my alarm sounds and I have to make my way to the EuroStar terminal for the last leg of my journey. I simply can't wait to get home, but I can say that it's been a very successful trip.

The ride to London was boring. Having eaten a lot of rubbish, I decided not to tempt myself by visiting the buffet car. I read a bit of my book, The Absence by Budgie, the former drummer of the Banshees. It's a great book and well written. We arrived home bang on time at 1900hrs and then I crossed London on the tube and took a train to my home town.

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...

In Dusseldorf...in the sweltering heat

I arrived in Dusseldorf around 2000hrs and walked the short distance to my hotel, the Novum Madison. Check-in was reasonably straightforward, although I hadn't bought in to their breakfast offering. This I quickly rectified and was surprised to be given a key with the number of my room on a blue piece of plastic or Perspex or whatever it's made from.

Room 416, Novum Madison, Dusseldorf

Reaching the room proved a little confusing. In fact, even now, I'm not exactly sure what floor I'm on. I pressed the button in the lift for the fourth floor, assuming room 416 would be on the fourth floor, but it's confusing. Anyway, eventually, I got there and found a relatively basic room with pine furniture, a safe that doesn't open, probably because the previous guest left it that way. I was reminded of my recent trip to Pittsburgh and decided not to mention the safe to the guys on reception. Who knows where I'd end up later in the week?

The view from room 416, Novum Madison

I dropped off my bags and headed straight for my favourite restaurant, which is literally a five-minute walk away: Parma ham with melon (I know, very seventies, very droll, but I fancied it) a non-alcohol beer and pasta arrabiatta. They'd run out of non-alcohol beer, probably on account of the hot weather, so I ordered a bottle of mineral water instead and decided not to have dessert. The bill was only 30.10 Euros.

There's an entrance to my hotel across the road from the restaurant, very convenient, I thought, and when I reached the lifts I decided it would be less confusing to take the stairs and possibly less hassle too. The lift appears to be slow and it takes an age from when I press the button for my floor for the doors to close, that's another reason why I hopped out and took the stairs. Besides, the exercise will do me good, I thought, as I started the climb.

Much needed...

Back in the room, I flicked through the television channels, but found nothing in English, even The Big Bang Theory was dubbed over in German and it was weird to see Sheldon Cooper speaking a foreign language. It was around 2100hrs that I hit the sack. I'd left the window open because of the heat and listened to the city: the sound of passing cars, the distant conversation of anonymous individuals on the streets below, the rumblings of trams. I slept through until around 0400hrs and then lie there awake listening to the outside world. At one stage I got up and texted a colleague. "It's fucking hot". That was at 0427, before I decided to go back to bed. The birds started to tweet outside, but it was still dark. Soon it lightened up and now I sit here writing this at 0610hrs. Breakfast is served from 0630 so I'm going to take shower and head on down there.

The heat continued throughout the day. It was so hot that I had to return to my hotel room for another shower in the late afternoon and change my shirt, and then I headed back to the other side of town to continue my working day, which didn't end until gone 2100hrs. I took a taxi back to the hotel and had an enjoyable conversation with the driver. He was a photographer and a cab driver and had been doing the latter for some 20 years. He enjoyed his job and was currently working a five-day week because of a big convention in town, the one I was attending. He lived in Leeds for two years and knew the Yorkshire region well. I told him I loved Dusseldorf and would love to live in the city, which he took as a compliment. It is a great place, very friendly.

Also much needed...

I couldn't stay in the room for long, it was far too hot and there was no air-con. Fortunately, it's possible to open the windows, but I still had to get out and decided to go for a walk as the daylight faded. I found myself in a small supermarket, Rewe, and wandered around, checking out peppermint tea and bars of chocolate, but not really thinking about the hot night ahead. I left empty-handed and had to return to buy two huge bottles of Felsensteiner 'medium' mineral water. The 'medium' refers to the fizziness, which is subtle.

The area around the hotel is not the best, but then anywhere near a railway station is normally pretty grim. There were sex shops for all persuasions and table dancing joints and places of that ilk, not to forget a few shady characters sitting on benches alone or congregating in groups. But they didn't seem to bother anybody and more normal people mingled in the twilight, drinking or dining alfresco outside the occasional bar or cafe. Nothing appealed to me, apart from a bunch of bananas and the mint tea. I only bought the water, which I am now sipping in order to rehydrate. I've been drinking water all day long and I'll probably repeat the process tomorrow. I'm going to hit the sack, but you might hear from me again if getting to sleep in the heat proves problematic.