I spent the day riding trains around Germany – and it was a nightmare

NostalgiefüretwasIhnennichtgefällt: the German word for feeling nostalgic about something you once hated. Not a real word, but languages evolve from necessity and British fans need a way to express themselves about the trains at Euro 2024.

On Sunday night I experienced this unusual longing when standing on the platform in Gelsenkirchen. It was past midnight, hours after the conclusion of England vs Serbia and there was no sight of a viable train back to my base in Dusseldorf 31 miles away. Eventually one rolled in going in the right direction, it filled to capacity without me on it and rolled out again. Good old British trains, I thought. With their single-figure minute delays, aversion to leaves and apologies for the inconvenience this will cause.

National railway company Deutsche Bahn (DB) has been described as being in “permanent crisis” by Germany’s national audit office. A third of long-distance trains run late, but as usual with such figures some liberal interpretations have been used. “Late” only counts as more than five minutes. My delays have all hit that threshold comfortably.

They have ranged from inconsequential (what’s another 20 minutes sitting on the platform at the airport when the free Wifi works?) to alarming. Gelsenkirchen appears unfit to host tournament football, yet England are likely to return in the round of 16. Fans who had negotiated packed trams back to the railway station from the stadium looked aghast to realise there was no extra train capacity to deal with a highly predictable surge in demand.

It is such a small town that most choose to stay elsewhere, yet there was only one train every half hour to Dusseldorf. The mood was not helped when an announcement ordered the crowd down to one end of the platform, then the next train sped past that area to where people had just come from. This is typical of the German train experience, a series of minor annoyances which happen so frequently you begin to suspect malevolence.

The service is not so dire that you will fail to reach your destination, it just might be much later than expected, perhaps multiple hours. Sometimes you do arrive roughly on time, even when your planned train was delayed, because the previous service was running so late it effectively replaced yours. Attempting to navigate tight transfers for longer trips is more stressful than watching Scotland defend.

There are also regional variations. Those zipping in and out of Berlin have reported few problems. My posting in the Rhineland is known to be particularly bad. In my first five days here travelling between four host cities I am yet to experience a journey without a delay.

Germans have long since moved past the anger stage have reached eye-rolling resignation. Their attitude is that if a train is on time it is a surprise. “There is a lot of frustration about delays, cancellations and sometimes lack of comfort,” says Cologne resident Steffanie Karrenbrock. “Deutsche Bahn’s problems are a big subject in Germany and a constant topic in the media. Politicians are regularly asked about it and are under pressure to find solutions.”

Those problems are familiar to British rail users: Overdue repairs across an enormous, ageing network, a lack of drivers and tracks and rolling stock at capacity. The result is a frequently miserable time. Is it possible to find a single train running on time at this Euros? I attempted to put my setbacks behind me on Wednesday to find out.

The hope was to reach Cologne from Dusseldorf by lunchtime, sample some Tartan Army bonhomie then be home in time to enjoy Croatia vs Albania on TV at 3pm. I target the 11.40 local service, as those are free for accredited journalists and high-speed intercity trains are not. I note with envy that the high-speed service eight minutes earlier left on time. Mine sets off a miraculous mere two minutes late. It should be a 32-minute trip and everything is going well until we come to a stop outside Leverkusen at 11.57.

“Dear passengers,” says a multilingual automated announcement after around 10 minutes. “A train in front of us is blocking the line ahead. We will continue our journey until the line is cleared.” Fine, sure that won’t take long. Another 10 minutes passes. “Dear passengers, we cannot continue our journey at the moment due to unauthorised persons on the line.” That sounds less encouraging.

After 20 minutes some transport police officers ease through the kilted crowd looking determined. They then stand in a less crowded vestibule and lean around for a chat. Some time later there is an announcement in German from the driver. A Scottish fan asks a local to translate “We just have to wait,” she sighs in a manner which suggests she has become used to doing so.

One minute before its expected arrival, the train disappears from the departure boards

By now the mood is turning. “F--- me this is f------ so s---,” says one gentleman wearing this tournament’s Scotland shirt. The train has still not moved and we are into hour two stuck outside Leverkusen. Another driver announcement, another translation: “He doesn’t know what is happening but hopes we will be able to go soon”. At last we judder into life at 13.08, an hour and 11 minutes since we stopped. We eventually reach Cologne at 13.30, nearly 80 minutes late. And of course, it is wonderful.

The doors of the main station open underneath the incredible cathedral, the third tallest church in the world. Beneath its twin spires the Scotland fans sing about John McGinn and Do-Re-Mi from the Sound of Music. No one is thinking about their journey, although two fans tell me about their planned overnight train from Frankfurt being cancelled. They are unbothered by this, they found bars that were open late. It did not seem as if either had slept.

Watching Albania draw with Croatia is a distant dream, but the 15.56 service to Dusseldorf dangles an uncomplicated 27-minute trip home from platform five. One minute before its expected arrival it disappears from the departure boards. The official DB app says it has already left the station. When it returns to the board it is now running 15 minutes late and has lost a couple of carriages. The app warns of “exceptionally high number of passengers”.

Never mind, the 16.07 is over on platform nine and only takes 10 minutes longer. I arrive at 16.08 but am unconcerned that I have missed it. It arrives a only seven minutes later than promised and thankfully cruises through through two stops to Dusseldorf without issue.

I have spent most of my life in south London so am no stranger to overground rail shenanigans. The odd platform alteration and cancellation does not fluster me. But I arrived and left Cologne far later than hoped and distinctly crabby. No one is having their experience of Euro 2024 ruined by the trains, but they are a tiring mess. A shame, in an otherwise perfect country for football.