Days 1–2: Zurich, missing backpacks and a questionable travel adapter
Our Interrail adventure officially began with us leaving Cardiff in style. Travelling Business Class meant lounge access and a three-course meal on board, making us feel considerably more important than we actually are. Reality, however, was waiting for us in a very hot and incredibly humid Zurich, via Amsterdam. Three out of four backpacks arrived. Guess whose didn’t? Yep. My husband’s.
After locating our apartment, which the kids described as “sick” (apparently, this is a compliment these days), we checked in just before midnight as a thunderstorm rolled in. Sadly, it brought absolutely no relief from the heat. To top it all off, we discovered that our supposedly “European” travel adapter apparently didn’t consider Switzerland to be part of Europe.
A promising start.
Thankfully, we struck gold with our apartment location, with a tram stop literally outside the front door in the Seefeld district. The following morning, we headed into the city, took the Polybahn for the views, wandered around Lindenhof and Niederdorf, and strolled alongside the crystal-clear River Limmat.
My husband acquired a Swiss tourist top, ending his run of same-clothes-a-thon. We also bought the correct adapter, narrowly avoiding a family-wide battery crisis that was threatening to trigger scenes that would have made the locals stare. In the afternoon, we split up. The boys disappeared happily to the Tram Museum (there was never really any doubt, was there?), while my daughter and I escaped to the Botanical Gardens. We explored the tropical domes, which somehow managed to be almost as hot inside as outside. Quite an achievement.
After another scorching day, there was only one sensible way to finish: an evening swim in the beautifully clear waters of Lake Zurich, followed by a well-earned drink while watching the sun go down. And the missing backpack was eventually delivered that evening, so we could finally put that particular drama behind us.
One missing backpack, one useless adapter, one very touristy-looking husband, plenty of trams and a pretty spectacular start to our summer adventure.
Days 3–4: Switzerland, Heidi and the world’s smallest post office
The temperature was still absolutely ridiculous: 36°C, with more of the same forecast for the week. Thankfully, our motel was right next to the main train station and had air conditioning, which had officially become our favourite tourist attraction. We left Switzerland with a few things still on the to-do list, which never feels like a bad thing. It just gives us an excuse to return. Still waiting for us were the Lindt Chocolate Museum, Einstein’s locker at ETH Zurich and, somehow, a proper Swiss fondue. How do you leave Switzerland without eating fondue? Zurich was a fantastic place to start our adventure. Beautiful, spotless, easy to navigate and full of character. Arriving on Swiss National Day meant traditional dress, celebrations and plenty of national pride. It also meant almost every supermarket was closed, turning the hunt for groceries into an unexpected competitive sport. Zurich was also eye-wateringly expensive. The next couple of days were our first proper on-the-move days.
First stop was Rapperswil, where we wandered through the charming old town and spent time in its beautiful rose gardens. Next came Heididorf, nestled in the Swiss Alps. We visited Switzerland’s smallest post office, fed goats, got close to some very confident chickens, explored all things Heidi and took in the incredible scenery that inspired the famous stories.
From there, we crossed into Liechtenstein, famous for its postage stamps. The family kindly indulged my inner stamp geek with a visit to the Postal Museum. I was in my element. They were… very patient. Finally, we boarded our train to Stuttgart, which departed with the kind of Swiss precision the rest of the world can only dream of.
Days 5–6: Stuttgart, the pig museum and our first sleeper train
We’ve found our Nightjet sleeper carriage, split into a girls’ cabin and a boys’ cabin, with the kids proudly claiming the top bunks. The guard welcomed us in wonderfully warm, slightly broken English, handed us bottled water, slippers and soap, demonstrated the all-important door-locking procedure and took our breakfast order for the morning. Feeling very continental, we changed into our pyjamas, washed, brushed our teeth and climbed into bed.
Only to discover that sleeping on a moving train takes a little getting used to. Between the bumps, rattles and sheer excitement of the novelty, sleep hasn’t quite arrived yet. Casualties from the top bunks included a pen lid, a pair of headphones and a mobile phone.
Thankfully, no children… yet. The train was due to leave at 11.30pm but eventually rolled out just after midnight. Even at that hour, it was still a sticky 31°C. Despite having had a very long day, everyone stayed in good spirits and waited patiently, which felt like a minor miracle. Stuttgart had turned out to be a wonderful mix of innovation and wonderfully odd.
My daughter and I explored the Mercedes-Benz Museum, while my husband and son headed off to Killesberg Railway, home to Germany’s oldest miniature railway. Fair play to Mercedes: the museum was far better than we expected, and Stuttgart itself was surprisingly easy to get around. The only disappointments were arriving a few days too late for Mayerling at the ballet and finding the art museum closed. We enjoyed buying fresh fruit at the market, picnics in the park and chilling in the motel courtyard with my favourite egg-chair comfort. The following day, all four of us visited the famous Pig Museum, which claims to house the world’s largest collection of pig memorabilia. I have absolutely no reason to doubt that claim.Three floors of a former slaughterhouse were crammed with every pig-related object you could possibly imagine, and quite a few you couldn’t. We’ll would be back in the land of pretzels and schnitzels later in our trip, but it was onwards to Prague.
Days 7–8: Prague, political philosophy and a very questionable apartment
A week ago this evening, we took off from Cardiff with four backpacks, an Interrail pass and a fairly ambitious itinerary. And somehow, we were already halfway through our adventure.
Prague. Wow. My photos genuinely don’t do this city justice. Prague has easily been my favourite stop so far, and if I planned this trip again, I’d give it at least another two days. There was far more we wanted to see than we had time for. Faced with limited time and an extensive list, we told the kids to each choose their number-one place and we’d make those happen. My son chose the National Technical Museum, so that was our first stop. Unsurprisingly, my husband could quite happily have spent the entire day there too.
My daughter chose the Museum of Communism, which was fascinating and incredibly thought-provoking. The irony of her currently reading Animal Farm while wandering around a museum about communism was not lost on me: “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.” Having completed Sociology IGCSE, she had been introduced to Karl Marx and George Orwell considerably earlier in life than I ever was. And now she’s decided to study Psychology next, so apparently she’s not finished analysing humanity just yet. Prague is also well known as a gastro-tourism winner, and my husband would certainly agree. He declared our lunch there the best meal of the trip so far. The Michael Jackson impersonator at the next table was entertaining too. We checked into our Prague apartment late in the afternoon. I left my husband and the kids to nap while I headed off alone to explore the Old Town, which strangely didn’t interest the others quite as much as it did me.
My husband had also reached the limit of what he could physically manage for the day. He pushes himself incredibly hard on these trips, and I know better than to push that limit any further. I’m grateful that he puts up with all my crazy ideas. Meanwhile, my daughter was simply all-over tired. Later, she found a second wind and came back out with me for another wander through the other side of the Old Town, so we could squeeze in a few more sights before grabbing some bits for me to make dinner back at the apartment.
By then, it was nearly 9pm. I was approaching 21,000 steps and had done two loads of washing, so noodles felt practically Michelin-starred. My husband wisely kept his opinions to himself.
And then there was our Prague apartment itself….
It was… quite something. I asked ChatGPT what on earth you would call the style, and the answer was: “Art Deco went on holiday, drank champagne, and decided minimalism was absolutely not invited.” Frankly, that was extremely accurate.
The following morning, backpacks were back on and we were on the move again. Our journey to Vienna began with us arriving at the station knowing we needed to get to another station about ten minutes away to catch our train. Simple.
Except we spotted a train going directly to Vienna, leaving in ten minutes, so we caught that instead. For one glorious moment, this seemed like an accidental stroke of genius… until we discovered it was absolutely rammed. We got off at the next InterCity stop, about an hour down the line, and, through a combination of mild panic, confusion and sheer luck, our actual Vienna train came through about ten minutes later.
We jumped on. It had air conditioning and a man playing a harmonica with a beard like Santa. Way better than the first train. All’s well that ends well.
We arrived in Vienna around 4pm and decided there was only one appropriate way to begin our Austrian weekend: An ice-cold pint of lager.
Our Vienna apartment had considerably less personality than our wonderfully bonkers Prague one, but it did have a massive balcony, and tonight that was exactly what we needed. No sightseeing. No 21,000 steps. No museums.
Just sitting on the balcony, chilling and having a picky tea of ham, breads, fresh fruit and cheese.
Our Interrail passes gave us five travel days within the month. Three used. Two remaining.
But the backpacks were staying put for a couple of days because, for now, a weekend in Vienna awaited.
Days 9–10: Vienna… with an unexpected detour to Slovakia
This weekend turned out to be slightly less relaxing than anticipated, although, to be fair, it did start that way. There is SO much to do in the land of Kaiserschmarrn and Apfelstrudel, and I think Vienna is another place we’ll have to return to one day. We barely scratched the surface. The grand palaces, the Prater, the museums and plenty more are still firmly on the “next time” list. But what we did manage was lovely.
A few blocks from our apartment was the wonderfully bonkers Hundertwasserhaus, a colourful, uneven, plant-covered apartment building designed by Friedensreich Hundertwasser and absolutely bursting with character, particularly the surrounding village and market. We wandered over on Saturday morning for a Viennese coffee duet (I could definitely get used to the coffee culture here), explored the little market, soaked up the atmosphere and walked along the river. The afternoon was deliberately uneventful: a picky lunch back at the apartment, followed by some much-needed chilling on the terrace.
In the evening, we swapped backpacks for our least-crumpled clothes and headed out to enjoy a little of Vienna’s famous musical heritage at the Viennese Classical Masters Concert at Haus der Musik. We chose this rather than the full opera experience because backpackers do not naturally come equipped with opera-house attire, and the kids were much more likely to enjoy something shorter where they might actually recognise a tune or two.
It was a brilliant choice. The string quartet were incredibly talented, the venue was small and intimate and, possibly most importantly after the temperatures we’d been experiencing, air-conditioned. Culture and climate control. Five stars.
The plan for Sunday was to have another chilled day in Vienna. That plan lasted until someone casually mentioned that Bratislava, Slovakia, was only about an hour away by train. I can’t say I was immediately enthusiastic. My feet were voting strongly for “chill in a park”. But after giving it some thought, I decided my daughter and I could make a day of it. So, in the end, picnics were made, bags packed and we chose adventure over rest.
The family divided.
The boys headed off to Silberwald to explore Das Heizhaus railway museum. My son assures me this was the last train-related thing he wanted to do on this trip. I remain unconvinced.
He really enjoyed the visit, although part of what he learned gave the day a much more sombre tone. Discovering the site’s connection to Holocaust-era trains carrying thousands of forced labourers and deportees left him reflective and respectful rather than simply excited by the railway history.
Sometimes travel unexpectedly gives you those moments too.
Meanwhile, my daughter and I crossed another border and headed to Bratislava. We mooched around the Old Town, wandered through the park, took in the sights and, naturally, found a cat café, this one housing rescue cats from Ukraine. We had such a lovely day together, and I’m genuinely so glad we changed the plan and went.
So tonight, the four of us were reunited at Vienna station, waiting for our overnight train to Venice. Two more countries squeezed into this Adventure (with a capital A).
Next stop… Venice.
Days 11–12: Venice, 47 bridges and the importance of pasta
We arrived in Venice first thing in the morning after our second overnight train of the trip, giving us two full days to explore what has definitely been one of the most unique stops of the trip. Our apartment was right by Piazza San Marco, which was a brilliant location. We could walk pretty much everywhere we wanted to go. Although in Venice, “walking somewhere” generally involves crossing 47 bridges, going down an alley, getting slightly lost and somehow ending up beside the same canal you started at. On repeat.
The heatwave continued, so we adopted a sightseeing strategy of exploring early in the morning, retreating when Venice turned into an outdoor oven, then emerging again in the evening when it became vaguely acceptable to be outside. As has become the theme of this trip, everyone had something they particularly wanted to do.
My son wanted to visit the Leonardo da Vinci Museum.
My husband was adamant that we couldn’t possibly leave Venice and spend the rest of our lives saying, “We went all the way to Venice and didn’t go on a gondola.”
I wanted to visit Libreria Acqua Alta, the wonderfully chaotic bookshop where books are piled into bathtubs and boats. Exactly the sort of wonderfully eccentric place I love.
And my daughter? She wanted pasta. Simple. Focused. Achievable. Possibly the most sensible itinerary of all of us. And somehow, despite the heat, the crowds and the maze of little Venetian streets, we managed all of it. We’ll left Venice having all done exactly what we hoped to do here: museum visited, bookshop explored, gondola ridden and, most importantly, pasta eaten.
One more city to go.
Day 13: Ten hours on a train
Today, we travelled for ten hours from Venice to Munich via Innsbruck.
We ate a picnic, looked at the views, read books and somehow managed to miss the eclipse.
Ten hours is a long time to sit on a train, but there is something quite lovely about having nowhere else to be. No driving, no navigating, no need to rush between attractions.
Just watching the landscape change as you cross borders, eating whatever happens to be in your picnic bag and occasionally checking that you haven’t somehow missed your stop.
Although, with this family, I wouldn’t rule it out.
Day 14: Dachau, dark history and a glazed doughnut
The funnier moments of this trip have often come from the little verbal snipes from the kids, usually aimed directly at me. Like when I was proudly showing off my sandal tan lines and my son informed me, “They’d be better lines if you kept your shoes on more.”
For context, I hate wearing shoes. Or Stuttgart, when I wandered back from the loo at about 1am wearing nothing but knickers and a pyjama top, and my daughter looked at me and announced, “You look like Winnie the Pooh.” Today’s contribution came just after 9am, when I had yet another perimenopausal power surge on the bus. My daughter took one look at me and said, “You look like a glazed doughnut. Where’s your handheld fan?” Honestly, the children are a constant source of affirmation.
But there was no getting away from the solemnity of today.
I put my black top on. My son wore his black chinos. And my husband even took off that bloody silly Cookie Monster hat of his. That’s how serious it was. Because today, we visited Dachau. When the camp was liberated in April 1945, more than 30,000 prisoners were found there in appalling conditions, alongside thousands who had died. Tens of thousands of people lost their lives at Dachau over the years it operated. And liberation wasn’t simply a case of unlocking the gates and everyone walking free. Disease was rife, and even after liberation, many more prisoners died. Munich was the birthplace of the Nazi movement, and Dachau, when it opened, became the model for the concentration camp system. I last visited Dachau 25 years ago. The exhibition, particularly the section dealing with the horrific medical experiments carried out, affected me so deeply that I had nightmares for two weeks afterwards. This time, I left my husband and the kids to complete that part of the exhibition while I spent some time quietly reflecting, before eventually sitting in the coffee shop waiting for them.
That visit 25 years ago stayed with me in another way too. Learning about what happened there, and about the Nuremberg Code, became part of the reason I decided to give something back by joining one of Wales’ Research Ethics Committees.
It is strange how a place you visit can stay with you, shaping decisions you make years later in ways you might not have anticipated at the time. Some places you visit to admire them. Some you visit to enjoy them. And some places you visit because remembering matters.
Days 15–16: Munich and home
Back in Cardiff, with backpacks full of dirty washing and so many memories made together that I hope we’ll still be laughing about them for years to come. Our final stop was Munich, where we started to wind down after two weeks of trains, cities, backpacks and asking, “What platform is it?” approximately 4,000 times. The European summer heatwave was still very much doing its thing, so the wild swimmer of the family enjoyed a lovely, relaxing evening dip in the Isar by Wittelsbacherbrücke. During the days, we lapped up Bavarian culture in the beer gardens and beer halls, eating pretzels and poffertjes for breakfast and sausages and potatoes for lunch. I’m fairly sure vegetables had officially given up trying to find us by this point, although the fresh salads in the KLM lounge on our journey home were a very welcome return to something green. In Munich, my husband and son headed off to the Deutsches Museum, while my daughter and I explored the market and wandered around the Old Town. It was a division of labour that suited everyone well and worked perfectly for this trip. One of the things I absolutely loved about travelling in Europe was how people seemed to take their pets everywhere. Lots of dogs and cats to spot, and we even had the pleasure of meeting a gorgeous dog called Hope. This trip had been in the planning for a year.
Personally, I have absolutely no idea how anyone relaxes on holiday without a spreadsheet. I genuinely loved planning it: every route, train, apartment, reservation and all the hours that went into making it work. But the biggest shout-out goes to my team, who are actually game for this kind of madness. The four of us, backpacks on, hopping from country to country and figuring it out as we went.
I’m very aware that there won’t be many more years before the kids are planning adventures of their own, and the idea of spending 16 days Interrailing around Europe with Mum and Dad becomes considerably less appealing. I know that one day they’ll want to travel with their own friends, make their own plans and create adventures that don’t involve their parents. And that’s exactly as it should be. But for now, I’m soaking these trips up while I still can.
Because, underneath all the train timetables, spreadsheets, museums, questionable apartments and family banter, there is something rather special about having this time together. And why travel like this? Because it opens up conversations you might never normally have. Conversations about history, sociology, politics, culture and the way other people live. It gives perspective. It also teaches you to navigate, problem-solve, be resilient, compromise, work together, tolerate each other (bear with) and find joy in the moment. Even when you’re hot, tired, carrying a backpack and somebody has confidently marched the entire family in completely the wrong direction.
Even when someone has talked endlessly about trains, radical feminism or political injustice.
And I’d be lying if I said we didn’t get lost. Or that tempers weren’t occasionally lost too.
There were moments when one or another of us needed some space, some quiet, some food, or simply for everyone else to stop talking.
But that’s travelling together. That’s family.
You don’t have to spend every moment in perfect harmony to make wonderful memories. Sometimes the memories come from the things that go wrong, the unexpected detours, the shared jokes and the moments when you look at each other and think, Well, we survived that. And I know I’d do the whole thing again in a heartbeat. Love my team.
Our Interrail adventure by numbers
- 9 countries visited along the way: the UK, the Netherlands, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Germany, Czech, Austria, Slovakia and Italy.
- Approximately 1,750 miles travelled by rail.
- Approximately 1,500 miles travelled by air.
- More than 3,500 miles travelled in total.
- Two overnight trains.
- Four flights.
- One coach trip into Liechtenstein.
- One gondola ride.
- One classical concert.
- Two wild swims: Zurich and Munich.
- One visit to Dachau that none of us will forget.
- One missing backpack (found).
- One ridiculous Cookie Monster hat.
- Countless pastries, sausages, pretzels and bowls of pasta.
- Approximately 700 conversations about which platform we needed.
- And four people who made it all the way around Europe together and came home still speaking to each other.
