Part 1 – The Train Tales

I’m sitting here and it’s really happening now, I think to myself, as the fresh morning air blows through an open train window two seats ahead of me. Berlin whooshes past me with its familiarity and empty streets, a rarity to be cherished on Sunday mornings. I take a moment to feel gratitude, at the same time excited and anxious about the trip that awaits me.

Today’s plan: taking a Flixtrain to Hamburg Central Station, where I’ll switch to the regional train RE70 heading to Kiel. There, I go on a city hike and spend the first night there – a soft, welcoming start to my 6-day trek, before it gets intense. Part one, check. I made it to the first train that leaves at 07:56, and I did not oversleep.

As we reach the outskirts of Berlin, the feeling starts to settle that I’m on an adventure, another one that awakens body and soul. My favorite kind. What will I take with me this time? What won’t work out? What will I laugh about later?

I enjoy thinking that this time I approach things that don’t work out with open arms, accepting that there is always something that doesn’t go after plan, and there are things that go way well above expectation. Universe, I challenge you to challenge me.

I use the calm alone time to write some notes, to read and to listen to some music. Maasai by Surma accompanies me with its strangely warming and playful lightness, and I dream away, as I write and watch the beautiful fields we pass through. So many white butterflies at this time of year.

A group of other passengers interrupt my calmness with their laughs and their loud talks every once in a while. One of them is standing in the hallway with a beer in his hand, leaning on the seats of both aisles and facing his friends. They’re annoying me. But somehow I don’t care as much as I usually would. I remember earlier times of travel where this would cause me great anxiety and give me the feeling that the whole experience is ruined. I enjoy that somehow I seem to have grown a much thicker skin over the years and can zone out, if I choose to… But is it cool that they are kind of drunk already, when it’s barely even 09:00 AM? Well, it’s a good thing I’m sitting all the way in the back.

As I watch the details flow by in incredible speed, I contemplate how sometimes this feels like a symbolic passing of my own life. And I feel my heart overflowing with love for all that is and all that’s ever been. The blissful and the most painful. And it gets so intense that my heart fills up with so much awe for life, that I could cry. Especially with Empty Jar by Phaeleh playing in the background. And then I start asking myself how I could make this feeling last and how it’s possible that this feeling is so rare compared to all the anxieties and the melancholy I feel so often. And I hear a voice softly saying: “You don’t have to make it last. Just enjoy it while it’s there.” I like that and I feel it comforting my heart.

As we approach Hamburg, I feel the excitement grow stronger. I pack my things, swing my heavy backpack towards my back and get into let’s do this mode. I walk towards the exit area and hesitate, spotting two men, both clearly very wasted, standing there. Hmm. I choose to just walk back to my seat and wait there instead. But as I’m about to walk back, one of them opens the glass door dividing the two sections for me, saying “it’s clear you want to pass, young lady, come on”, and I notice it’s one guy I already had several encounters with, in which he chose to tell me I’m dressed nicely and am the prettiest woman on this train. I get a bit anxious at what he will say now, but luckily, he seems to be mainly focused on talking to his friend. And we’ve just entered the Hamburg Central Station anyway.

And then everything happens so fast. There is an incredible amount of people, a mass, a wave, swallowing everyone who might accidentally fall into it – like me – and heading into one direction. I am swallowed and walk with the crowd, totally uncoordinated on where I’m supposed to head. I spot a kiosk and run into it, anyway needing some water, as I thought of everything in the morning today, but filling up my water bottle.

Relieved to get the chance, I get a bottle of water and head out of the shop. The crowd is smaller now, I notice with even bigger relief. I can even make a couple of short videos, a new format I want to integrate as a sort of documentation on this trip. I watch everyone pass by, with all their different bags, clothes, ages, destinations. Everyone heading somewhere, chasing some purpose. Like me. Well, what is my next purpose? I don’t know, but I know I need some coffee before the next train…

I spot an empty coffee booth in the middle of the platform and am served by a very friendly woman, who lifts my already overwhelmed heart. She’s a bit surprised I want my coffee purely black, with no sugar or cream. This surprise moment I encounter so often always amuses me. I thank her, and just as I’m about to find a spot to enjoy my first sip, I find that the train already waits on the platform. Why is it only two wagons? Fuck…

Yes, fuck, indeed. The small train is completely overfilled, I notice, as I walk through, desperately trying to find a seat with my big backpack. I remember all the news I heard about the 49 euro ticket / Deutschlandticket (or “Germany ticket”, a subscription public transport ticket introduced in May 2023, valid in the whole of Germany, for all public transport), which I now own myself, causing very big amounts of people to take advantage of the regional trains and that it’s a very stressful situation. Like it is now. But part of me is happy to see it actually makes that difference and that it makes more people take public transportation, as it intends.

I keep walking and suddenly spot a 4-seater occupied only by one man. I ask him in hopeful desperation if these seats are free. He shrugs and says he doesn’t know, he was also walking through and weirdly found all 4 empty, and doesn’t know if they are reserved or what. Oh, okay. Well, let’s give it a try, I say, and he adds that someone has to tell us, if they are occupied. Sounds like a plan. I sit down on the seat opposite of him. It’s like our guardian angels kept those seats free for us or something.

I notice the seats are next to a bathroom. Well, maybe that’s why they’re empty? We’re not gonna get any quiet today, I think. But I don’t care, I’m just curious what form the journey will take and have no expectations of any sort of comfort I normally would seek. Next thing, a big man spots the remaining empty seats, too and asks, if he can sit next to the other man. The other man, while looking at his phone, surprises him by saying he anyway has to get off the next station, and gets up completely. The man sits down opposite of me and puts down a beer on the table we share. He’s completely dressed in a black Rock’n’Roll style, wears a light green tie, loosely tied around his T-shirt, a black cap and his hair is dyed in red. Interesting. He seems tired and a little confused.

It keeps getting fuller and fuller, some people don’t try to board the train anymore, others just sit down on the floor and give up looking for seats, and a young group of friends approaches our area. Annoyed at the situation, they choose to sit down next to us, two take the remaining seats, the other two sit down on the ground, blocking the path to the bathroom. I hear the train conductor, for the first time ever in my life, announce that the train is filled at maximum capacity now and everyone else should take the next one (which comes every hour). Phew. Lucky me.

I can feel the excitement and nervousness of everyone in the air and try to zone out by putting on my headphones and listening to some music. But there’s too much happening, and the group next to me laughs and talks with each other in a way that makes it difficult to zone out. I am also kind of curious about what they’re saying, but after a while, I get bored and put on some podcasts. The trip is not so long anyway, just around an hour and a half to go.

Part 2 – A Messy Greeting

We finally reach Kiel. The Rock’n’Roll guy and I say goodbye to each other in a sweet way. We didn’t exchange one word all trip, but I thank him for standing the weight of my backpack against his knee during the whole trip, after he smiles in a sweet way, while I take it away. He wishes me a great time, as he leaves, and I wish him the same. I like such endings to random encounters.

And then I leave the train, again overwhelmed by the crowd, stopping for a minute and looking around, until the area clears a bit. I feel my Soul excited over seeing a new station and city for the first time. And then, I take my time slowly walking out of the station.

Still not used to the weight of my backpack, I walk with quite some discomfort. The area around the central station is very full and I’m a bit annoyed at some people staring at me. After a few minutes, I reach an emptier street, full of construction works, so zero cars. I walk up what feels like an endless hill to the apartment. Fuck, I forgot to check how hilly this area is. I also notice I’m quite tired already. And I’m hungry. And my back hurts. Okay, just a few more steps…

I reach the address, take out the key from the lockbox, open the entrance to the house. It’s an old house and I like its aesthetic. Excitedly, I try to open the apartment door… without any luck. The key doesn’t fit somehow. I try again and again. This can’t be happening. Am I stupid? I go out and sit down on the porch, thinking what next step I should take. I write my host and try to call her with no luck. I go into the house and try again. I check the name on the doorbell what feels like a hundred times, cross-checking that it’s really the same name attached to the keychain. I start closely looking at the form of the key and the lock, and see that they clearly don’t fit. Wonderful. Things are going wrong now already?

I turn to the Airbnb support and a nice agent tells me to go sit in a café, as we figure this out. Coffee’s on them. Alright. I find a sweet coffee shop called Campus Suite and sit down in relief at getting some rest. The place is really nice and cozy and very empty, what a relief. And with a hot chocolate in my stomach, everything seems a bit less absurd. The agent helps me find another place, a much better one, I realize with a tiny bit of excitement. And one that is not so far. He cancels my old booking, and I’m ready to go.

Tired of walking (what a good, promising start, I think to myself), I find me a scooter and take it to the new place. It’s much closer to the Central Station and the location seems much more interesting. I take the key out of the lockbox, walk up a very tight and steep stairway, up to the third floor, and just as I open the door, I hear Hip Hop music. Oh no, is someone here? I walk in carefully, look around and realize it’s just some radio playing off a loudspeaker, as some sort of welcome music. That’s sweet. But it’s a bit scary at first. And then the relief hits me. I put down my heavy backpack and walk around, exploring the apartment, happy and amused at the way things worked out and being aligned with a much better place after all. I lay myself down on the couch and sigh in relief. Arrived.

Part 3 – Kiel, Show Me Your Secrets

After what feels like two hours wasted resting and writing an official complaint to Airbnb to speed up the compensation process, I manage to find enough motivation to still make something out of my hiking purpose for this day. I almost doze off on the couch, but then a tough voice reminds me I get only this one chance to make the best out of my visit, and if I choose to stay on the couch, that’s a very bad start. That does it. Okay, I’m getting up.

Of course, the route I had originally set out to walk is a lost case by now, but I still want to have seen a bit of the city, before I leave tomorrow. So I spontaneously plan a new route on Komoot, take some snacks, my camera, a book and head out. First, I walk past the Central Station, still a bit sleepy and confused from my day. I don’t feel very comfortable in the area. Very macho men keep staring and smiling at me every few meters I walk, which confuses me. Also, it’s very full and noisy, and the vibe is not the most uplifting somehow.

I keep walking up the street Sophienblatt, until I reach a park, Moorteichwiese. Immediately, I feel different. The area is much calmer and there’s barely anyone walking the streets. The sun shines through the trees, casting a beautiful, playful shadow on the houses. I pull my camera out and shoot my first real photo of the trip.

I keep walking, letting the golden sunlight warm my skin. I walk through a park, down a hill, I pass by a couple sitting under a tree, enjoying the sunlight, and two girls unlocking their bikes off the fence. I take it all in, still feeling a bit restless, and keep walking.

There seems to have been a festival or something, I notice, as I see a fenced area the size of a football field, being cleared out by lots of people and families. There are a lot of kids, playing, running around, screaming. I walk past two women, one of which suddenly yells at her daughter, who keeps whining around, and I notice two festival organizers watching from a distance, with a very attentive and serious face. I walk on, wanting to get out of here.

Next, I again walk down Sophienblatt, towards a bridge. This time, fascinated by the sunrays lighting up the street and the houses. I am also fascinated by the aesthetics, colors and shapes of the houses and use the chance to make many photos.

I proceed to the bridge, Gablenzstraße, and enjoy the spaciousness of the pavement, and the view over the rails. I love that no one bothers me, as I stop and make a couple of photos from the top.

A few steps later, I find myself walking through the parking lot of a public indoor swimming pool, Hörnbad. I enjoy the calmness that grows with every step I take, moving away from the loud street above.

A child happily runs over white circular markings on the pavement, while its mother tries encouraging it to come back.

On the other side, I see a seagull and a raven competing over a crumpled up paper bag, which is obviously empty, but they haven’t reached that realization yet. A young man with a green shirt and white pants walks past me, and I love the way his outfit complements the surrounding so nicely.

The sun is setting and I admire the warmth of the light highlighting the tree tops. I realize that I’m really tired and decide to cut the tour in half and make a short break in a park I’m about to enter and then to start heading back, while passing the harbor. And so, after several failed attempts of passing a drunken trio of friends with two dogs that take up the whole pavement, and one of them being nice enough to notice I need to pass and letting me pass – “gosh, the woman needs to pass, let her pass, shall you” (laughingly)– I sit down in a rounded area of stairs and let the sun warm up my face.

A calm couple sits a few meters away from me and a group of teenagers sits above me, on another level, much higher. I try to find the calmness to read a book, but my mind is too scattered and my soul too agitated from the day, so I choose to just have a snack and to edit some photos from the day on my phone.

Let’s continue. I walk up some stairs and go left, down Bielenbergstraße. Through some bushes, I spot a very old woman, wearing a light pink outfit, walking with her dog, very slowly, on a very narrow path, standing out in the midst of the dark bushes and trees around her. And just as I am about to pull out my camera to capture her, she looks at me. Dammit. I know some photographers have the guts to still take a photo in that moment, but I am always too shy and too scared to make the person feel uncomfortable. Or worst case scenario, to have them come screaming at me, like I experienced so often in Cairo, without me even taking a photo of the person directly. Damn those annoying scars.

Well, I enjoy watching her walk in her calmness, without taking a photo. It seems more to me like the dog is guiding her, not the other way around. I admire the groundedness with which she walks, despite clearly being unable to walk well anymore. And then I move on.

As I reach a traffic light, I spot three antennas casting their shadows on a house in a beautiful way. I also love the way the golden light just warms up the whole scene.

Walking ahead, I reach Elisabethstraße, which feels like an old alley, with many old, cute houses. The sun casts its remaining light on the roofs of some houses, and some windows reflect the sunlight, casting it on the street. I live for such details.

I take my time walking through, capturing all I can capture, and taking it all in in awe. I realize I feel much more energetic and fulfilled than I did half an hour ago.

A few steps ahead, I spot two old men hanging around a kiosk and smiling at me in a creepy way, as I approach. Ugh, why does this keep happening? I actually change sides and walk to the other pavement, upset that I have to do this, but I don’t feel like getting into any sort of conflicts today or having anyone ruin my precious time. I keep walking, proud of myself that I can shrug this off much quicker than I used to be able to. At least something positive about it. Although 18 year old me would strongly disagree that this is something positive.

Crossing Karlstal, a big street, I start seeing more and more people, many of which are young boys, hanging out in little groups of 4-5, scattered all over the place. I then hear lots of noise – kids screaming, people talking in big numbers, scooters and bicycles driving across, and I notice with surprise that I’m entering a square – Vinetaplatz – with lots of activity going on. And I hear lots of Arabic. Many families with children running and screaming around a playground, women conversing, men speaking loudly, almost like they’re yelling, but they are not, as they gather in groups, standing around in corners of the square. I smell shisha. I feel overwhelming familiarity, as if I am back in Egypt. I choose to enjoy the familiarity, at the same time craving for the calmness I am seeking on my trip and walk ahead. I can imagine it turns into a very lively square once it gets dark.

Soon, I walk down another pavement, surrounded by trees, next to a church. Pastor-Gosch-Weg. The light blue sky painted with pinkish hues awaits me at the end of the path. I walk and walk and face a beautiful surprise.

I find myself at the top of some bridge, with a lovely view over the city. Something about the vibe of it reminds me of Cairo. Like I’m in Heliopolis, looking over the city from a high building or something. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I enjoy the feeling this strange association is leading to, and I enjoy the fresh evening air cooling down my skin.

The city seems quite grey from this perspective, I think. But even all this greyness looks lovely from the top. Seagulls squeak non-stop, circling above me, landing on the top of houses, only to continue gliding through the air a few moments later again. I walk, until I reach some stairs. It’s very calm, a pure enjoyment after a lot of noise.

I can spot the harbor, and I look forward to reaching it and to slowly put an end to this long day. Walking down the stairs, I see some young seagulls fighting over a styrofoam plate with some leftover crumbles and sauce. I am amazed at the size of these birds, which really feel like flying dinosaurs to me. I am relieved that they are seemingly the ones scared of me, and that they are not aware of the power they have.

A few steps later, I reach Germaniahafen, a small part of the harbor, with small ships docked. I stand there for a couple of minutes, watching a diversity of people walk by, while some skateboarders whoosh past me.

I decide to walk by the water, passing a couple with a brown dog curiously looking at me, with its ears lifted, and a person without a home, preparing to settle in their spot for the night.

I reach the Hornbrücke, a folding bridge, by now also a tourist attraction in the city. Sadly, I don’t get to see it folding this time, but I embrace my tourist persona and make many photos and videos, while standing on top of it. I enjoy the vast view over the water. I dream of taking the ferry that commutes between Kiel and Oslo from that harbor next time. I never really traveled by boat before and am curious how that would feel. But for now, I just enjoy the soft evening twilight.

I again reach the central station, pass quickly by a supermarket for some first day reward treats and dinner, and as I get out, I spot a fascinating reflection of the sunset on a building. Despite the messiness I carry everything with, I stop and fiddle around for my camera, capturing that beauty. I even inspire another person to stop next to me and make a photo as well. How lovely. With gratitude and fulfillment, I walk through calm side streets leading to the apartment, settling into the relief of things working out today after all and curiously anticipating the adventure that awaits me the next day.

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Route walked:

Trip stats:
6,34 km – 1 hrs 12 minutes (in motion) – 5,3 km/h (average speed)

If you’re interested to see the path I walked on komoot, follow this link:

https://www.komoot.de/tour/1292110278