Going off the rails on the Culture Train

“The lads are on the shots already,” someone says as a crowd forms at the back of the train. It’s a Friday evening, and we’ve just pulled away from Cottbus, an hour into our journey to Poland. I turn around (discreetly, I’m sure) to see that a few passengers indeed have clear liquid in tiny cups. Boozing on the Bahn to kick off a weekend away is pretty standard fare, but today the lads are the exception: everyone else on this IRE (the love child of an ICE and a RE, we are a two-car regional train running long-distance) is here for an entirely different combination of travel and entertainment.

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They had the idea: why don’t we just put culture on the train?

In 2016, the Polish metropolis of Wrocław (pronounced vrot-swaaf) was selected as the European Capital of Culture, which meant that the city would hold more than 2,000 special events throughout the year. At the time, Berlin had stopped running regular connections to Wrocław, and this presented an issue: how were the famously culture-addicted people of Berlin meant to access all this fresh culture?

“They had the idea, for a couple of months, for a train to get people from Berlin and Brandenburg to Wrocław,” says Natalie Wasserman, a native Berliner and fluent Polish speaker who has been helping run the KulturZug’s programming since its inception. “They were afraid that people wouldn’t use it, because of course by car it’s a lot quicker, because the German part is not electrified yet. That’s why we have to go slowly on the German side, because of diesel and all that.” (Lack of infrastructure strikes again!) “Then they had the idea: why don’t we just put culture on the train?” The 4.5-hour ride began to feature a rotating programme of entertainment and activities: karaoke, theatre, silent disco, traditional crafts. “It was supposed to function for about four, five months at the beginning. But it was such a success – we had three cars, and they were all completely booked.”

The project was extended year by year and is now in its 10th season, with no intention of slowing down. The KulturZug runs every weekend from April to December, making two trips to Wrocław on Friday and Saturday, and two trips back to Berlin on Friday and Sunday. During the journey, passengers are treated to a multi-sensory experience, a cross between a mobile classroom, a roving history museum and a concert on wheels. Announcements are made in both languages. There’s even a library on board, with novels and magazines from each region.

I want to go to Breslau because it’s also part of German history, but we don’t talk about it in school

The programme changes constantly: in the past, they’ve hosted musicians, artists, refugees, dance instructors, jugglers, witches, traditional Polish paper-cutters, a Muse cover band. Passengers have been privy to live culinary workshops, listened to Kafka readings, woven their own wreaths with native plants, hand-dyed Easter eggs, watched special screenings, and helped knit a scarf that the KulturZug team hopes will one day break a world record. This year’s lineup includes “Speak Dating” with SprachCafé, a live talk with a journalist about Ukraine’s Independence Day, Yiddish lessons, a reading from EU Prize for Literature winner Magdalena Parys, an exhibition about the Romanisches Café and an exploration of flag design – all interactive. “We don’t want people to consume culture,” says Wasserman, “we want to get them into contact and into dialogue.”

Onboard, Wasserman and her colleagues wear a uniform of black pants with gold stripes and a double-breasted blazer with gold buttons, an outfit that was custom-made for them by a costume designer with the idea of distinguishing them from Deutsche Bahn staff. With the train chugging toward Weißwasser – the last stop before the border, and whose station sign also bears the name Běła Wóda – she gathers everyone by the doors to start tonight’s language programme, which is one of their recurring workshops.

“Do you think of Polish as easy to learn, or hard?” Wasserman asks the group. There’s a chorus of “Schwierig”. Wasserman smiles: she’s got us. Out to prove that Polish – a language full of letters with tadpole legs and rogue, unpronounceable zeds – can be just as intuitive as German, she hands out wire clothes hangers with string tied to each end. I look quizzically at the passenger next to me, a Berliner in a white tank top with a “SLAY” tattoo, who is here with his mother. “You’re supposed to stick your fingers in your ears and bang it against something hard,” he says. Resigned to looking crazy, we all wind the strings around our fingers, put them in our ears, dip our heads, and hanger-bang. The sound is somehow that of a resounding church bell. “At the beginning, every foreign language sounds complicated,” Wasserman explains. The idea of this lesson is for us to start truly hearing Polish.

Wasserman passes around orange boxes with the scarier Polish letters on them; time to get hooked on phonics. “A lot of people are afraid of this ‘ł’ with the line. But you use it in English all the time – what, where, Washington, whiskey.” Wasserman tells us that in 2016, as part of its special cultural programming, Wrocław held workshops that promised to teach anyone to pronounce its name in five minutes. Enthused by her enthusiasm, our group nails ‘cz’ with ease, and Wasserman pronounces us advanced. Everyone practices using their nasal passages to say ‘ą’ and ‘ę’.

We learn how to introduce ourselves in Polish, and then shuffle around the train making friends. “Dzień dobry, jestem Simon,” says SLAY Tattoo. Taped to the window is the ‘Faces of the Culture Train’ gallery, with names and portraits of KulturZugers who have gone before us. “I have about 1,000 faces like that at home,” Wasserman says. “Next time I do this, your faces will be there.” We’re all given paper and markers, and we start passing our papers around, making friends and letting them draw our facial features. Underneath, we all write the reason we’re going to Wrocław today. Wasserman reads them aloud. “Jadę do Wrocławia bo… eat my body weight in pierogi,” someone has written. Other answers include “To spend some time with my son,”; “For a Mädchensurlaub”; “For the duck roast, the pierogi, the beer”. One person writes, “I want to go to Breslau because it’s also part of German history, but we don’t talk about it in school.”

Wrocław is indeed the former German city of Breslau. Once a Prussian capital and briefly the third-largest city in the German Empire, 96% of its residents were native German speakers in 1910. It was later the site of an early Nazi concentration camp, and a major target of Allied bombing. After the war, the Red Army gave the city to the People’s Republic of Poland. By 1948, the 300,000 Germans who had been living there were fully expelled.

At the beginning, every foreign language sounds complicated,

On the train, there are a few historical stowaways: the KulturZug team has attached the names, faces and stories of late influential Poles and Germans to the backs of the seats, so that passengers can learn about the countries’ overlapping past. There are also, Wasserman tells me, the occasional accidental passengers, who have booked the KulturZug without knowing that they’ll be getting such a show. “We have a lot of people that just by coincidence, they want to go to Cottbus, and they say ‘Oh wow, this is here.’ It’s an easy oversight, given that the Deutschlandticket covers the trip on the German side. “But very many of them say, ‘Oh, I have to come back and go to Wrocław sometime’,” says Wasserman, adding that a KulturZug ticket is valid on the city’s trams and buses.

By the time we pull into Wrocław central station, everyone has had a four-hour teaser for their weekend in Poland, ready to sample every bit of art, architecture and savoury beige foodstuff the city offers. It’s as if we’re children who have been asking “Are we there yet?” for hours, and we finally are. Except, I’ve made a grave strategic error: I’m riding back to Berlin tonight, along with the KulturZug team, who are preparing for the rest of the weekend’s slate of guests and activities. No pierogies for me; I’ll have to eat my weight in currywurst instead. Chew chew!

• €27 one way, more info on tickets and programme here or follow on IG @kulturzug