I'm leaving, on a (relatively fast but not jet-speed) train ... to Germany!

So I was stupid and didn’t decide on my plans until the last minute, which meant that I paid 120 Euros for a train ticket to my cousin’s house. Please smack me next time I decide to not plan in advance. (There are actually super special 25 Euro tickets on sale at the last minute, but you have to keep refreshing the page after midnight and you have to snatch them up pretty quickly … but I like to sleep, so I bought my extra few hours of rest to the tune of 80 Euros. God, I’m dumb sometimes).

Anyways, if I could write an ode to trains, I would, because they are the most awesome mode of transportation ever, and I would like to take only trains for the rest of my life. I mean, how could any other form of transportation compete? It’s fast, smooth, spacious, and the conductors wear cute uniforms.

In any case, the train took close to five hours to get there; on the way, I kept staring out the windows at the picturesque scenery. No industrial towns or ugly factories here – just rolling hills and copses of dark trees and red-roofed and brick houses clustered in the hollows.

By the time I was switching trains in Frankfurt, I was famished, and was flabbergasted to find sandwiches for 2.50 Euros. OMG. Side note here – I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a panini in Montreal that didn’t cost at least 8 dollars. So …. just saying, all those complainers about how Europe is just so damn expensive are wrong. Well, kind of. There’s all that transportation and all those pesky museums and tourist traps. On the upside, you don’t have to tip. Which I figured out after I left a 2 euro tip on a 6 euro coffee. In my defense, I spilt it, and the nice waitress wiped it all up for me and brought me a free coffee.

Anyways, by the time I arrived in Darmstadt, I was quite exhausted, but the sun was still out and my cousin offered to take me around the town, so I reluctantly exhaustedly agreed.

We wandered around the cobblestone streets in the center with all of the (modern) stores and then up the hill to some sort of hodge-podge plaza that had a tower for newlyweds and a garden, an Art Deco museum (that was naturally closed by the time we got there, as were all the other attractions of the town … just my luck), and a Russian chapel. Just, you know, to cover all the bases.

Now my nefarious plan was to rope my cousin into being my personal photographer for the duration of my stay; thankfully my cousin was a good sport, and I didn’t have to exert too many of my evil powers to get my way.

I mean, why not take photos with random things that have nothing to do with the country you’re visiting?

That would be a random statue that I am chastising …

Or what about posing with a random tree hedge?
That’s not to say I was a total ass about it. I totally returned the favour and forced my cousin to pose for me in a tree hedge herself. See, I’m totally selfless like that.

Call me about my professional photography career. I take payment in white wine and European pastries. No seriously, call me.