12:41 Berlin to Warsaw Express

With just over 40 minutes before our train is due to depart, we arrive at the train station prepared to purchase our tickets to Warsaw. We figured a day in Poland would be an interesting stop on our way to Moscow. We entered the ticket office and impatiently waited in the very long queue. 38 minutes later we get our tickets and board the train with only seconds to spare.

In desperate need of washing my hands I locate the bathroom onboard the train. I twisted the notch on the soap dispenser using as little of my finger as possible to avoid contamination, and produced freshly ground flakes of soap. As intriguing as this was, I also noticed that every informational sign on the train was written in four languages and not one of them English. I was excited about the fact that I was heading somewhere that wasn't so accustomed to tourists.

Interview with Ali about recent hair cut:

KM Do you like your new haircut?

AC Yes, I do. I think it might take a few days to settle down though.

KM Are there any parts that you don't like?

AC Not sure if it's defined enough on the top.

KM Do you think the people who walk past and stare at your hair are admiring and possibly even jealous of your hair cut?

AC Mmmm, NO!

KM Do you think I would make a good hair stylist?

AC I think you could be a very creative hair stylist. You showed great enthusiasm and rose to the challenge. Especially after cutting your fingers with the scissors.

After loosing at backgammon 3 times consecutively, I refused to play the childish game a moment longer and decided to write in my journal instead. Just before crossing the Polish border the authorities (consisting of 4 mean looking men with guns in an army-like uniform) made their way along the train checking passports as they go.

Sitting backwards in the direction of travel without a window I realise that we quite possibly have the worst seats on the train and decide to sit in the restaurant carriage for the remainder of the six and a half hour journey. Moments after we got there I couldn't resist ordering some soup and a beer. The soup was called zurek Z jajkiem, kielbasq i pieczywem ("Sour soup with 1/2 an egg, sausage and bread" was the translated description below). Imagine a cream of sausage soup with half a boiled egg and slices of sausage dropped in it. It was delicious and I ate every last drop of it.

Getting maybe a little too relaxed, I take off my trainers, drink some more beer and gaze out of the window at Polish suburbia. Nearing our destination we prepare to head back to our seats until I realise that one of my trainers is missing. Looking around curiously, I notice the table of drunken Polish men next to us sniggering and laughing. Ali notices my trainer hidden behind them and quickly reclaims it on my behalf. I acknowledged their strange sense of humor by smiling and wait for them to leave the carriage. Me and Ali look at each other in disbelief then continue to make our way out of the restaurant car.