You can also find out more about the A-Team here. year ago, I discovered a bit of a travel hack – that if accompanied by an adult (obviously) children under the age of 12 can explore Europe by train for absolutely zilch. I’m a great believer in bargains. Even those that promise to leave you with a negative balance over the long term. So, despite the fact that I didn’t have any children of the required age, I took advantage of Interrails generous offer.
It was much easier than I thought to find someone younger than 12. When I lodged an enquiry about my 10-year-old niece, asking if Annabelle might be available for an Interrailing stint at Easter, my brother couldn’t sign her up fast enough. He did, however, insist on a few caveats, including that she be in bed before 10pm and out of bed at 9am. She also could not watch sweary Gordon Ramsay programs.
Where would we go then? Well, after several discussions with my prospective companion over FaceTime (during which she utilised upwards of 100 filters, including one that made her look like Donald Trump), six locations were settled on: Paris, Zurich, Venice, Innsbruck, Berlin and Amsterdam. Annabelle cited Emily in Paris The Diary of Anne Frank as inspirations, while confessing to a long-term interest in Toblerone. If the itinerary had been up to me, it would have looked a lot different. I would have just finished writing a bookWhen I told Annabelle about Essen and Minsk (two of Europe’s least trendy cities), she raised her eyebrows for 10 seconds.
First up, Paris. After we checked in at The Hoxton on Rue du Sentier and quickly started eating some snails, (I won’t quote Annabelle’s verdict verbatim, but she likened them to a larger version of something you might find up your nose). A picnic near the Eiffel Tower – during which Annabelle stewed over my explanation as to why there was no point in us joining the massive queue to be elevated skywards (“Are you sure British people aren’t allowed, Uncle Ben?”) – was followed by a rapid ascent up 500 steps to the base of Sacré-Coeur basilica, Annabelle’s alacrity owing to a white lie on my part (I’d said there was a doughnut shop at the top).
Our journey from Strasbourg to Zurich required a change. A seat reservation was required for the first leg at a cost of €10 each. Seat reservations are required for certain European trains and sleeper berths. Interrail pass holders must pay extra. An honest breakdown of what we did during the four-hour run down the eastern flank of France to Switzerland reads as follows: 10 minutes considering the passing landscape, 80 minutes of screen time and roughly 19 games of hangman, in which I was able to smuggle a new pair of words into Annabelle’s evolving vocabulary, namely “exasperation” and “glee”.
We spent an hour exploring Zurich’s efforts to become the most eco-friendly city possible (including a hydroelectric power station that got the one-eyebrow treatment from Annabelle), and another sitting by the lake near the fetching old town watching the swans and coots squabble over pretzel scraps. Then I gave Annabelle’s palate the night off chocolate and took her to a plant‑based restaurant called DarZineb Hattab, a renowned Spanish/Moroccan Chef. We enjoyed everything, but the Kentucky-fried shitake mushrooms and the vegan Ceviche were our favorites.
I changed the way I travel with a mini-human in Venice. I stopped trying to have conversations every 10 paces about bridges and sea levels and the role of Garibaldi in the reunification of Italy, and instead handed Annabelle the reins, telling her to lead the way and get us lost. She was able to get us lost in every shop she saw.
We stayed at the Avani Rio Novo, a stylish establishment near the train station. Annabelle’s legs are affected by a condition called selective fatigue. It flares up when she is going to museums, etc. After a dinner of sardines and gelato (don’t ask), she spent the evening trying to teach me ballet moves, whereas I spent the evening thinking the sooner she starts drinking alcohol the better.
Annabelle suggested that “wobble” was a good alternative to “move forward” or “proceed”. So we bid Venice farewell, and wobbled to Innsbruck. Innsbruck is a beautiful city with about 130,000 residents, and surrounded by mountains.
We dumped our bags in the bin Adlers Hotel and wolfed down a schnitzel at a restaurant called Stiftskeller, we took a 20-minute cable car ride up to the peak of Hafelekarspitze, a mountain topping 2,334 metres (7,657ft). We paid our dues to the vista – a pistachio river, a motley crop of rooftops, a ring of Austrian Alps – before commencing a protracted snowball fight that Annabelle would later put forward as the highlight of her trip, a comment that had me wondering if I should have just taken her to the Snozone in Milton Keynes.
The next day, we travelled to Berlin. We arrived in time to see the sunset at the TV Tower of Alexanderplatz (368 metres tall). Annabelle seemed to grasp the gravity of the Brandenburg Gate as I tried to explain its significance. However, this impression was shattered slightly when she asked at the end my summary: “Can You do This With Your Tongue?”
The tram took us to the KPM HotelAnnabelle rated her hotel room in an old porcelain factory west of the city 10/10, mainly because it had a beanbag. A guided bike tour of the Berlin Wall the next morning provided a stimulating lesson about ideological warfare, Helmut Schmidt and David Hasselhoff, as well as the different ways that an East German could overcome an obstacle. Phillip was a great guide and added a lot to the tour by including cherry trees and currywurst. When he asked if Annabelle liked the sound of life in the German Democratic Republic, she quickly and firmly said “sure”, which I later discovered is her go-to response when she hasn’t been listening.
The following day we arrived at Amsterdam Centraal with no fuss. It took us less than 6 hours to get there and it was free of charge. We walked from the station to our hotel, NH Collection Amsterdam Flower Market. The staff was incredibly helpful and even arranged an Easter egg hunt for Annabelle when I realized that I had forgotten what the Resurrection of Christ meant to someone of a certain generation.
We walked along the canals for a day and a half, ate some Dutch pancakes.poffertjes), and had a butcher’s at the Rembrandts in the Rijksmuseum. It’s not hard to guess which of these Annabelle loved the most. Annabelle, in truth, was rather rude towards Rembrandt. She said that the self-portrait by Rembrandt, painted in 1628 was a waste of time.
Annabelle gave a more measured review of our trip to the Anne Frank House. She wrote in the visitor’s book that she was glad to have come, even though it had been a sobering experience to hear Anne’s story.
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While we were tunneling from Brussels to London, my niece did a little dance on her eyebrows.
“This time next year, I’ll be 11,” she said.
“You will.”
Which is under 12?
“It is.”
This means that I will still not cost you anything.
“Not quite true, but I take your point.”
Maybe we should try it again?
“Maybe … “
Only this time, we would go to Minsk, Essen and any other place you wanted to visit.
“I’ll speak to your dad.”
She shook her head, went back to a YouTube clip involving Oreos and then quietly said, to herself more than me: “If it’s necessary.”
Interrail The company provides passes for its customers. EurailStart with. This is a list of the best ways to get in touch with us. £For four days of travel within a month, you will pay 180 euros Children under 12 years of age are free. Accommodation is provided by The Hoxton Paris (doubles from £250, free extra bed for under 12s); Avani Rio Novo Venice (doubles from £127); NH Collection Amsterdam Flower Market (doubles from £200). Support provided by Innsbruck Tourism, Visit Berlin The following are some examples of how to get started: I Amsterdam
Ben Aitken’s latest book is Sh*tty Breaks: A Celebration of Unsung Cities (Icon Books, £18.99). Order your copy of the Guardian to support it. guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges are possible.
