Traveling by train in Europe is generally smooth sailing. Train stations are everywhere, trains run mostly on time, and tickets aren’t terribly expensive. My trip from Vilnius to Warsaw? Trust me, it was anything but ordinary.

The escapades began innocently enough. Armed with my trusty EuroRail pass, I walked into the Vilnius station to purchase a seat pass (different from a ticket) to Mockava. Little did I know, I was going to experience a linguistic tango. The ticket lady and I engaged in a baffling dance of broken French, Russian, and misunderstood gestures. She was adamant about not selling me tickets to Moscow, Russia. I was equally determined to get to Mockava, Lithuania. Eventually, after what felt like a crash course in charades with a twist of language barrier as she spoke no Russian or English, we reached an understanding. Tickets in hand, I made it with minutes to spare to my first train of the day.

The adventure wasn’t over though. The train from Mockava to Warsaw broke down, requiring the entire train to pile into a single bus. Panic set in as I calculated my the odds of making my connecting train in Warsaw. I pulled up Google Maps, fingers crossed the arrival time would be before my depature time. As I zoomed in on the map, I realized that while I had always known academically Poland and Lithuania bordered Kalingrad, Russia and Belarus, I had never realized just how close they were. Suddenly, I was watching the map like a hawk. Would I inadvertently crossing borders? Could I accidently end up in Minsk instead of Warsaw? The bus ride turned into a geopolitical thriller, zigzagging precariously close to the edge of Belarus and Kaliningrad. I mentally rehearsed Russian phrases like a wannabe secret agent, just in case.

After what felt like a rollercoaster through the backcountry of Poland, we finally veered back onto a major highway towards Warsaw. My heart rate returned to normal, and I was finally able to tear my eyes away from Google Maps.

From Warsaw, I boarded an overnight train to Berlin, hoping for smooth sailing after my earlier escapades. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, I was unable to sleep that night. The next day, my journey continued from Berlin to Mannheim and finally to Landstuhl, where my dear husband, William, awaited with open arms and promises of home-cooked delights.

This story continues to make me laugh every time I tell it, travel is after all about the stories you collect along the way — unexpected detours, linguistic gymnastics, and friendly locals. Each mishap transforming into another story to share with friends and family, as well as all of you, here on this blog.

So, to anyone contemplating a European rail adventure: buckle up, embrace the chaos, and pack a phrasebook. Because sometimes, the best memories come from the unplanned detours and the linguistic puzzles that baffle everyone involved. As for me, I’m just grateful for the comedic goldmine my Vilnius to Warsaw expedition turned out to be.