The sky is its default shade of blue and half a moon seems to be masquerading as rest of the cotton ball low hanging cloud.
If you miss its precision cut dimension; you could easily miss the camouflage. As I settle into my seat on ICE 128, bound for Cologne, I can’t shake the feeling that this journey will be unlike any other. The train glides out of Frankfurt Main station with a whisper, the cityscape blurring into a painting outside my window.
As we pick up speed, I notice something peculiar – the clouds are keeping pace with us, their cottony forms stretching and morphing like taffy pulled by invisible hands. An elderly woman across the aisle catches my eye and smiles knowingly. “First time on the enchanted express?” she asks, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Before I can respond, she reaches into her bag and pulls out what appears to be a miniature hot air balloon. With a gentle blow, it inflates to the size of a grapefruit and begins to float lazily around our carriage.
Other passengers seem unfazed by this display of whimsy. A businessman in a crisp suit casually plucks the balloon from the air, scribbles a note on it, and releases it back into the ether. I watch in amazement as it drifts through an open window, joining a flock of similar message-bearing balloons outside.
As we cross the Rhine, the river below shimmers with an otherworldly light. Fish with scales of burnished gold leap from the water, their arcs leaving trails of stardust in their wake. A group of children press their noses to the glass, their excited chatter filling the air as they point out fantastical creatures swimming alongside our train. The landscape outside begins to shift and blur, centuries melding together like watercolours on a canvas.
One moment we’re passing through medieval villages, their half-timbered houses leaning precariously over cobblestone streets. The next, we’re surrounded by futuristic skyscrapers that seem to defy the laws of physics, their spires twisting impossibly towards the sky.
A conductor materializes beside me, his uniform a patchwork of different eras – a top hat from the Victorian age, epaulettes from Napoleon’s time, and boots that wouldn’t look out of place in a science fiction novel. “Ticket, please,” he says, holding out a hand that seems to flicker between solid flesh and translucent mist.
I fumble for my ticket, only to find that it’s transformed into a delicate origami butterfly. The conductor nods approvingly, gently blowing on the paper creation. To my astonishment, it comes to life, fluttering around my head before settling back into my hand as a standard ticket once more.
As we approach Cologne, the iconic spires of the cathedral come into view. But something is different – the gothic structure seems alive, its stone gargoyles stretching and yawning as if waking from a long slumber. The twin spires reach towards the heavens, growing taller with each passing second until they pierce the clouds themselves.
The train begins to slow, and I realize with a start that our journey is coming to an end. As we pull into Köln Hbf, the magic that has surrounded us throughout the trip begins to fade like morning mist under the sun. Passengers disembark, the businessman straightening his tie, the children clutching souvenirs that couldn’t possibly exist in the world I knew before this journey.
I step onto the platform, my head spinning with the wonders I’ve witnessed. The elderly woman from earlier passes by, winking as she disappears into the crowd. “Welcome to Cologne,” she calls over her shoulder. “There’s magic here…’
As I make my way out of the station, I can’t help but wonder if it was all a dream. But then I feel something in my pocket – a tiny hot air balloon, no bigger than a marble, waiting to be inflated and set free in this city of endless possibilities…
Copyright©Nee