Reading - Long Text

The Quiet Return of Night Trains

When I told my friends I was taking a night train across Europe, they reacted as if I’d announced I was travelling by horse. In their minds, sleeper trains belonged to black-and-white films, along with paper tickets and smoking compartments. Yet on a wet Tuesday in April, I found myself stepping into a modern carriage at 9.45 p.m., holding a QR code and a small bag, ready to see whether the old idea still made sense. The appeal is easy to understand. You go to sleep in one city and wake up in another, without losing a full day to airports, security queues and delays. For people who dislike flying, it sounds ideal. But the real question is whether it works in practice, especially when you’re not a luxury traveller with a private cabin and a generous budget. My first surprise was how social the platform felt. A mix of commuters, tourists and business travellers were all waiting for the same train, and the mood was calmer than at most airports. On board, the staff moved quickly, checking tickets and pointing people towards their bunks. I’d booked a couchette—six beds in one compartment—because it was significantly cheaper than a sleeper cabin. I expected chaos, but there were clear rules: shoes off, lights out at a set time, and quiet conversations only. Of course, “quiet” is a relative term when you’re sharing a space with strangers. In my compartment there was a student who had packed crisps, a couple who spoke softly in Spanish, and a man who seemed to believe the corridor was his personal telephone booth. Still, once the train settled into its rhythm, the noises blended into something like background weather. I slept in short blocks, not deeply, but enough to feel human the next morning. In the dining car, I met a railway engineer who said the recent return of night services was less about nostalgia and more about practical pressure. Some routes have become too busy for daytime trains alone, while airlines have faced growing criticism over emissions. Night trains, he argued, offer a middle option: slower than flying, but far less time-consuming than a full day on the rails. He also admitted that the system has weak points—limited capacity, complicated cross-border timetables, and a shortage of carriages that can be used on different networks. By 7 a.m. we were pulling into our destination, and the station café was already serving coffee to people who looked as if they’d had a normal night’s sleep. I hadn’t, exactly. Yet I stepped onto the platform feeling oddly satisfied. The journey hadn’t been perfect, but it had been straightforward, and I’d arrived in the centre of the city instead of on its outskirts. Night trains won’t replace planes for everyone, and they won’t suit travellers who need silence and certainty. But for those willing to trade a little comfort for time saved—and for the sense that the trip itself is part of the experience—they are no longer just a romantic idea. They are, quietly, becoming a realistic choice again.

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