Read on train. Or slept and made up for the hours I missed.
Nothing – absolutely nothing – like a passenger march up to a seat and be like, “Hey, Ich habe dieser Platz reserviert.” And horrors of horror! The passenger says, “Können Sie das prüfen?” Old lady shows her papers and the vanquished monarch of seat 91 makes his long walk to the corridor of the train.
We are 5 mins late. No one is angry.
There is smelly sewage everywhere. Walked away slowly. The hostel is only two mins away. Stashed luggage away. Luckily, so is the Kunsthalle. Revisited pieces. The only price for a return is a memory tarnished.
Checked in. 17 year old boys in hostel rooms will never air the room. It must a rule in a constitution or something. Must go back to the Kunsthalle.
Found a good Vietnamese place. It is Germany. There is always a good one around. This one had good Reisband Noodle. Train back to the centre.
Continued working in the lobby of the hostel. The unaired room was too stuffy. The lobby was – and still is being – invaded by snails with their homes on their back. They walk slowly. And drunken Englishmen who talk about Sir Alex Ferguson when they are drunk. I should sleep early.