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We were somewhere near the border between France and Belgium when we finally uncorked the warm bottle of rosé. We were gathered with our apéro spread: hummus, tarama, melting Brillat-Savarin cheese, and a couple of baguettes. A late-30-something named Thomas—an open can of Cristal Pils Belgian lager in hand—had padded into the train cabin. “I don’t want to drink alone,” he said with a nervous smile. He was wearing socks, no shoes. A French engineer who traveled regularly between Paris and Berlin and cared about his environmental footprint, he was a regular on European Sleeper’s newish overnight route, The Good Night Train, between the two cities. Four women on a mission, we agreed to share our snacks, but first, we sent him on a search. He returned with a toothy grin and a corkscrew. We let him sit with us.
The last time I had taken a night train was on a post-grad trip in Thailand, where a girlfriend and I tossed and turned on rickety bunk beds in communal cabins alongside a dozen other travelers wearing cotton MC Hammer pants. I was, admittedly, a bit apprehensive about my maiden overnight voyage in Europe.
After a raucous night at Le Pigalle, where we feasted on arancini and watermelon-feta salad and margaritas, then had our tarot cards read at their dive-y next door bar, Chambre 01, we boarded the train at Paris Gare du Nord, just before 6 p.m. As a travel journalist, I had seen high-res images of other sleeper trains, like Belmond’s Venice Simplon-Orient-Express, with gilded carriages and meals served on white tablecloths with menus designed by Michelin-starred chefs. I quickly realized that The Good Night Train would be a more utilitarian affair.
On a blindingly sunny evening in June, the interior was uncomfortably warm. The AC, a steward told us, would kick in once we started, beginning with the front cars and slowly working its way back. There was no dining cart, just a laminated menu with a concise selection of beverages (such as the aforementioned canned beer, mini bottles of Sauvignon Blanc, and soft drinks), snacks (such as Pringles and “noodles”), and a QR code. I was grateful that we’d loaded up on provisions. Wine felt non-negotiable.
European Sleeper
