The 19.10 overnight train from Budapest to Bucharest, calling at Brasov, consists mostly of seated carriages, with just a couple of Romanian couchette and sleeper cars attached at the front. I loiter on the platform as long as possible, awkwardly eating my dinner from McDonald’s (don’t judge) while leaning against a wall — with a scheduled time of nearly 12 hours to Brasov, I want to enjoy non-train-life as long as possible. Most of the passengers are getting onto the seated carriages, some with heavy bags and suitcases, one guy with 6 tins of beer in a plastic bag and seemingly nothing else.

I’ve paid the princely sum of €20 for a bed in a 4 person couchette. I bought this the day before, from a lady at the Budapest ticket counter who told me, errm she could try to speak English, before running me through all the options perfectly fluently. (I think I’d secretly been hoping for a mildly traumatic angry-ticket-seller experience with lots of miming and google translate, for the sake of a story. But this was decidedly pleasant and easy, which in the longer term is better for everyone.)

So on I get, second car from the front, and after a bit of minor wrangling and amusement from the other passengers as the attendant realizes that the backpacker who was already in my place actually had a ticket for 2 days prior — nice try mate — I put my stuff on my upper bunk and take a seat.

I’m sharing a compartment with an older gent from Brasov who smiles and nods every time we make eye contact, but who says very little (what with me speaking no Romanian or Hungarian or German or any other useful language in this situation), a Romanian woman who talks the attendant into giving her a compartment to herself once we’ve set off and the carriage is still half-empty, and an American guy who is going hiking in Romania. He has never been on a train before.

There are some night trains that are advertised as being like hotels on rails, the perfect romantic start to your getaway. Then there are Romanian trains. Half the journey happens at about 20 mph; you know if you’re going faster than that because the rattling gets even louder. The compartment consists of: 4 bunks, the lower 2 doing double duty as seats during the day; some bedding that you have to sort out yourself (have you ever tried putting a duvet in a cover, on a rattly train while watched by 2 strangers??); a small rubbish bin; an overhead light; and a door that appears not to lock (but after the Zurich-Budapest window blind experience, who knows). There are no power outlets or personal lights for the bunks.

American guy is prepared, however, having brought a bottle of Hungarian wine, which he offers to the gent from Brasov and me. He’s only got his hiking cooking set to serve it in though, and given what I know my hiking pots are like, I’m glad I’ve got a now-empty McDonald’s drink cup to use (see! don’t judge). The wine is what my more sophisticated friends would call “a nice simple red”, which is perfect really for the atmosphere.

After a sedate half bottle between the 3 of us, we all decide to try and get some sleep before the border control at midnight. This involves first a pair of Hungarian border police coming on the train and checking all our passports, then 15 minutes later the train coming to a stop again and a pair of Romanian border police doing the same. Both sets of police are polite if brusque, but it’s amazing how “have you been to Romania before?” sounds like a threat when it’s midnight and you’re half-asleep in a bunk on a train.

Successfully in Romania, we rattle on through the night. American guy gets off somewhere a bit before dawn. Somewhere before Brasov the train pulls into a station, the name of which I don’t catch, and sits there for an hour — if the Brasov gent knows why, I lack the language skills to get an explanation from him. I take advantage of the stop to get a photo from the hallway window; at least we’re hanging around somewhere with good scenery.

Eventually we pull into Brasov, 1.5 hours late. The gent makes a gesture of “at last”, as we gather our belongings and head for the doors. The station itself is busier than I had expected, with departures for both Bucharest and various points throughout Transylvania. The Romanian railway system may have some elderly trains, but if you’ve got patience they can take you all over the country.