There are two ways to get from Essen to Frankfurt am Main by train. You can change trains twice for a 2-hour straight route, or stay on the first train for a three-hour journey via Bonn. I wanted to spend as little time in transit as possible, but Jochin and Angela encouraged me to take the long way round.

I was really happy to have taken their advice. The train followed the Rhein where vineyards slipped down steep green hills to the river, and every small town had a castle. It was a breath-taking journey, and it made me wish I had more time so I could have got off the train whenever I could.

Frankfurt is a dissapointment. Every bit of history has been cloaked by business and consumerism, and the people appear the same. Like a snobby Sydney. It’s also the hottest day I’ve had in Europe, and the humidity is killing me. I’m continually sweaty and my fat rolls spill over my overpacked, oversized backpack and I look like a freak among all the oversteroidized, chemically bronzed or anorexic freaks here.

It’s only three thirty in the afternoon but I already want to head to my hotel room where I can have a six-hour long shower, and watch German TV (don’t care if I don’t understand it). Just want to go home. Only 44 hours to Melbourne, and another 16.5 to Shepparton.