Fall Asleep in Paris, Wake Up in Berlin on European Sleeper's Wallet-Friendly Overnight Route

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 European Sleeper's Good Night Train offers routes from Paris to Berlin, Brussels to Prague, and Brussels to Milan. 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 SleeperThe accommodation options range from Budget, where travelers spend the night upright in compartments that seat up to six people, to Comfort Plus, cabins that sleep up to three people in proper beds that look not unlike those found in a college dormitory. I was privileged to have one of the latter options all to myself.After a quick stop in Brussels, we took our last sips of rosé, said adieu to Thomas, and retreated to our respective homes for the night. The Euro summer sun still high, I took a seat at a fold-down desk, journaling and gazing out the window while golden fields whizzed by. I washed my face in the teeny sink in my compartment, applied some Typology retinol moisturizer, and inspected my skin in the mirror under the unflattering light. Then I popped to the end of the train car to use the loo—I’ll spare the reader the details, but it’s what you’d expect of a closet-sized bathroom on an eco- and wallet-friendly train. When I returned, my cabin door had locked automatically behind me. I had to slip inside a vacant cabin to buzz a steward, then wait 10 minutes for him to arrive and unlock my door. In my leopard-print jammy set, I felt sheepish.Once I settled into my bed, the sun had set, and the AC had arrived. I felt cozy under the thin, white sheets. What’s more, lying fully reclined while traveling always feels very business-class chic. The train Wi-Fi was patchy, but my phone’s was four bars, so I hot-spotted some internet and continued watching some Netflix on my laptop—comme chez moi. Just like at home. Sleep came easily, but it seemed like every hour (or maybe every other hour), the train lurched to a halt and I stirred. The night had a fever-dreamish quality, as when you vacillate between various states of consciousness. As the sunlight trickled through my window, I gave up on sleep. It wasn’t restful, per se, but I woke up in Germany, and there was something magical about that.Breakfast offerings include an array of German treats, from vanilla yogurt and granola to rolls and a Gouda spread. European SleeperI appreciated the room-service-y feel of being served breakfast at 7:30 a.m.—the precise time I’d requested the evening before. Inside a red-and-white checkered box was an assortment of German treats—vanilla yogurt, crunchy granola, a cracker the color of pumpernickel, a roll, Nutella, and a spreadable cheese made from Gouda that I found too pungent for pre-8 a.m. Propped up on two pillows in my bed, I sipped hot coffee and journaled. In a little over an hour, we’d pull into the Berlin Hauptbahnhof station. Nearly 15 hours had slipped by.Our taxi sped through the city center, the driver repeating “alles gut,” as we clutched our seat belts. Pretty soon, we were stepping into Château Royal, a Mitte district boutique hotel with a modern design that held tight to the building’s history while embracing the city’s contemporary art scene—dark, Chevron wood floors, soaring ceilings, the original, panoramic windows, accented by artwork from nearly 100 artists decorating the rooms and public spaces. Above the bar, hand-scrawled “IT’S SO GOOD IT’S SO GOOD… YOU AND ME YOUU AND MEEEE” set a cheeky tone for dirty martinis and grilled cheese sandwiches with truffle butter before a late night in Berlin.To be candid, I’m not sure if I would love the experience if I were bunking up with strangers—no offense to the well-meaning Thomases of the world. But if I were traveling with my partner and my daughter, or a couple of friends, I would choose The Good Night Train again. Even if it takes longer, the ultimate luxury is traveling between countries without ever having to wait in a security line—pulling into the heart of the city and diving directly into another culture and a new day.A version of this story originally appeared in Condé Nast Traveller UK.