Germany 🇩🇪 Archives - Roam Relax and Repeat

Wednesday, May 27 — Warnemünde, Germany to start our Baltic Cruise

Embarkation day has a rhythm all its own, and it’s pretty much the same regardless of the cruise line or the port. Our Baltic Cruise was no exception. Everyone arrives at the terminal at once, the lines shuffle forward in fits and starts, and there’s a frantic, slightly bewildered energy as two thousand people simultaneously try to figure out where they’re supposed to be. We were no exceptions.

Somewhere between Berlin and the Baltic, hoping the German rail system would be kinder to us than the Polish one.

Getting to the port was its own small adventure. Cruise lines love to market these itineraries as visiting Berlin. The reality is that there is no ocean anywhere near Berlin; the ship docks in Warnemünde, about two hours away by train. “Berlin” simply looks better on a brochure. Despite what the itinerary says, Warnemünde is a solid two hours from Berlin by train — two trains, in fact. The German rail network, which we’d been hoping might redeem the reputation of its Polish counterpart, proved equally creative with its scheduling. A late departure from Berlin cascaded into a missed connection in Rostock, which put us toward the back of a very long check-in queue. From the moment we joined that queue to the moment we reached our cabin was forty-eight minutes. Not bad, all things considered.

On Board the Ship – Our Home for 9 Days

Once on board, we did what you do on the first day of a cruise. You get lost, wait for elevators, and slowly start mapping the ship in your head. We caught a yoga class, unpacked our bags — properly unpacked, for the first time in 10 weeks. We made it to the evening’s early show before dinner. The entertainment was a high-energy musical tribute spanning four decades, with great costumes and an equally great cast. After sixty-plus days of hotels and hostels, having dinner prepared and entertainment laid on felt like a small miracle.

This nine-day journey will take us through six countries, with only one sea day. We still have plenty of ground to cover before we fly home, but for now the simple pleasure of unpacking once and staying put is more than enough.

Thursday, May 28 our first port — Gdansk, Poland

We started the morning with back-to-back yoga classes — a thirty-minute stretch session that rolled straight into a second class when the instructor kindly offered to keep going. A good breakfast followed, and then we got ready to go ashore as the ship arrived at 10 AM.

First impressions of Gdańsk: colourful facades, cobbled streets, and a city that immediately won us over.

There’s a small asterisk on “Gdansk” as a port. The ship actually docks in Gdynia, an industrial city about thirty kilometres away. The smoke stacks and container ships weren’t exactly calling to us, so we focused on getting to Gdansk instead. The ship was running a shuttle for €60 return; we found a FlixBus leaving at 11 AM for €4.50 a person. The bus ride was uneventful, and we arrived at the main bus and train terminal just before noon.

From the station it’s a short walk into the old town, and the reward is immediate. The buildings are charming — tall, colourful, and elaborately decorated — the streets narrow and cobbled underfoot. Much of the city was rebuilt after 1945, yet it carries a genuinely authentic air. Rather than feeling like a reconstructed tourist attraction, it feels like a city rebuilt for the people who live there and only incidentally enjoyed by visitors. The area around the famous medieval water crane was buzzing with visitors from what seemed like half the ships in the Baltic, but it’s busy for good reason. We found a table at an open-air café, ordered something cold, and spent a happy hour watching the world go by.

We also spotted a handful of Solidarity signs. Quiet nods to the movement that began here in the 1980s and changed the course of European history.

Getting Back to the Ship (The Hard Way)

The return trip provided the afternoon’s entertainment. At the train station, we purchased tickets from a real person after the automated kiosk defeated us. We confirmed our platform, and boarded with confidence. Then, just before the doors closed, doubt crept in. We looked at each other, decided we were on the wrong train, and jumped off. We ran across the tracks and boarded the train going the other way — sitting down, quite pleased with ourselves — only to realize we were now definitely on the wrong train. At the first stop we hopped off, crossed the platform again, and boarded yet another train pointing in the correct direction. Ten minutes later, we were heading back to Gdynia. We were back on track — ha! — and laughing about it before we even reached the ship.

That evening the entertainment was a skilled violinist, and over dinner we received news that the clocks would be moving forward an hour overnight. Given the ship’s 07:30 arrival in our next port, that meant an early start by any measure. The travel tax — not the financial kind, but the accumulated toll of early mornings and busy days — is part of the cruising life too.

Next up: Klaipeda, Lithuania — quirky statues, a high school parade, and a brilliant afternoon on bikes in a national park.

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Quote – “Travel aspirations? Don’t put them on your bucket list, put them on your to do list.”

Cam and Meg.

Our Berlin travel blog covers a short but memorable stay in Germany’s capital including stopping at Checkpoint Charlie (above).

Monday, May 25 — Arrival

A five-hour train from Warsaw brings us across the German border and into a city with an entirely different energy. Berlin is bigger, louder, and more alive than anywhere we’ve been in weeks. If we’re being honest, it was a bit overwhelming at first — in the best possible way.

For reasons neither of us could quite explain, Leonard Cohen’s First We Take Manhattan had been running through our heads for days. Arriving in Berlin felt like finally getting to the punchline.

First Impressions of Berlin

Meg had been carrying an image of Berlin since high school, when a friend who’d grown up in West Berlin described a city cut in two — divided streets, abandoned subway stations that trains rumbled through without stopping. That version of Berlin lived in her memory as a somewhat shadowed place. What she found instead, stepping out into a hot May afternoon under one of the bluest skies imaginable, was a city that felt anything but. Modern architecture, a vibrant pulse, and an unmistakable sense of freedom.

Not the Berlin we imagined—and all the better for it.

We arrived at the hotel an hour ahead of schedule, and the receptionist — coincidentally named Michaela — had a room ready and even produced a bottle of water typically reserved for elite members. Small kindnesses land differently after a long travel day. We took an hour to decompress, then headed out into the city. An evening walk took us through Alexanderplatz and around Museum Island, dinner found us in the Hackescher Markt area — on a patio, listening to a busker, watching the world go by. It being Monday, we found a spot with a vegetarian burger, keeping our meatless Monday streak very much intact.

What struck us immediately was how young Berlin felt. Not young in age, of course, but in spirit. Sidewalk patios were packed, cyclists streamed past in every direction, and nearly every public square seemed to have someone playing music, sharing a drink with friends, or simply enjoying the evening. It wasn’t the Berlin either of us had imagined. For a city so closely associated with twentieth-century history, it felt remarkably forward-looking — energetic, creative, and comfortable in its own skin.

Evening Wandering – A Berlin that is Lively

As we wandered through Alexanderplatz and around Museum Island, we found ourselves recalibrating our expectations. The Berlin of divided streets and concrete barriers had long since given way to something different. History was still present, but it no longer defined every moment. Instead, it felt like a city that had learned how to live alongside its past rather than be trapped by it.

That said, any illusion of having boundless energy was quickly put to rest. Five hours on a train sounds easy enough — you just sit there — but the travel tax is real and it always collects. We turned in early.

Tuesday, May 26 — The Big Sites Day

We were out the door just after eight. Meg had reserved Bundestag tickets before we left Canada, which turned out to be a very good thing — English-language tours in June are scarce, with only three days available the entire month. After clearing security and presenting our passports, we were met by our guide for a ninety-minute walk through one of Europe’s more remarkable legislative buildings.

Inside the Bundestag – Germany’s Legislature

Looking out across a city that has reinvented itself more than once.

The Bundestag shares some things with the Parliament buildings back home, but it carries its own distinct weight. The guided tour gave us access to areas not generally open to the public: walls still marked with Russian graffiti from the fall of Berlin in 1945, the library holding minutes from every sitting since 1949, and a quiet non-denominational chapel. The tour ends at the glass dome — a panoramic lookout that sits directly above the parliamentary chamber, the transparency entirely intentional. With the weather cooperating, we could see across the city for miles.

What impressed us most was how deliberately the building embraces transparency. The dome isn’t simply an architectural feature; it’s a statement. Visitors quite literally look down into the parliamentary chamber below, a reminder that government is meant to remain visible to the people it serves. Even for those with only a passing interest in politics, the symbolism is hard to miss. The building manages to acknowledge Germany’s complicated history while looking confidently toward the future.

From there, the Brandenburg Gate. The last remaining gate of the old city walls, and a piece of living history in its own right — Napoleon dismantled it and carted it to Paris after his conquest, only for it to be returned two years later when he was defeated. History, returned by courier.

Crossing the Divide – Checkpoint Charlie

Then Checkpoint Charlie — the last Allied checkpoint before the Soviet sector. The small booth, still surrounded by sandbags, feels oddly out of place against the now-bustling neighbourhood around it. It was busy when we visited, and yes, a little gimmicky. But it’s hard to stand there and not try to imagine what crossing that line once meant.

A Berlin institution. Not necessarily a personal favourite.

A quick lunch — and we’ll leave it at that — except to say that Meg had her heart set on a currywurst, a Berlin institution we felt duty-bound to try. Cam was less enthusiastic going in, and the verdict upon finishing confirmed his instincts. Some culinary experiences are about the story rather than the flavour. This was one of those.

From there we made our way to what turned out to be the most affecting stop of the day: the Berlin Wall Memorial. What remains of the wall stands in a peaceful green space, almost parklike in its calm. That contrast — the open sky, the birdsong, the plaques listing those who died trying to cross — is quietly devastating. It takes a moment.

The Berlin Wall Memorial

Unlike many historic sites that have become polished tourist attractions, the memorial feels restrained. There are no dramatic recreations and very little spectacle. Instead, visitors are simply presented with the facts, the preserved sections of wall, and the stories of those who lost their lives trying to cross from East Berlin to the West. The effect is powerful precisely because it is understated.

Standing there, it was difficult not to reflect on how recently all of this occurred. The Berlin Wall fell in 1989 — well within living memory. Many of the people walking through the memorial today experienced a divided Berlin firsthand. That realization gives the site a different weight. This isn’t ancient history; it is history that still feels close enough to touch. We remembered an old phrase we’d heard years ago: people voted with their feet. Looking at the memorial, it wasn’t hard to understand why.

The Berlin Wall Memorial: peaceful today, heartbreaking history.

Cam continued on alone for a bit, stopping into St. Hedwig’s Cathedral — the first Roman Catholic church built in Prussia after the Reformation. The interior is strikingly minimalist, with the altar positioned in the centre of the space rather than at the far end. The organ, fashioned entirely from stainless steel, is something else. He spent some time there, in no particular hurry.

We reunited for a last evening out — Thai food, alfresco, in a restaurant with an outdoor courtyard. A fine way to close Berlin.

Wednesday, May 27

We packed up, checked out, and made our way to the train station for the journey to Warnemünde, where our cruise ship was waiting. We’ll confess: Berlin probably deserved more of our time than we gave it. The biggest surprise was how optimistic the city felt. We arrived expecting history and found plenty of it, but we left remembering the energy, openness, and sense of possibility that seemed to be everywhere. Two months of near-constant travel has a way of blurring the edges. But the cruise offered something we were genuinely ready for — one suitcase, unpacked once, for nine days. We were ready for that.

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