Cluj was once a jewel in the Austrian-Hungarian Empire. Hike atop the hillside for a great view of the red-roofed skyline.

Read more about this city in the region of Transylvania at romaniatourism.com.

I’m awoken by a barking dog by the side of the train tracks at a stop 15 minutes later. A man wearing a blue sweater with Boy Scout-like patches enters my train cabin. Much to my surprise, I’m being asked again for my passport. This must be an example of the infamous Hungarian-Romanian animosity and mistrust I’ve heard so much about. Why stop twice within 15 minutes on each side of the border? Why not have just one check-point?

He pivots his feet and opens the train door to leave my cabin, passport in hand. I stand and question “Wait?” “I will come back with your passport,” he cheerfully says. I look again at those Boy Scout-like patches on his sweater. How official are they? He senses my apprehension, but seeks to reassure me with his beaming smile as he points to the station building through the train’s window. “This is the Romanian entry-point. I will just check your passport there,” he says in near-perfect English, with near-perfect teeth, and a near-perfect smile. The town of Episcopia Bihor surely hired the most charming man around for this job. It’s no easy feat to separate tourists from their passports. “10 minutes,” he says, “and I’ll be back.” And sure enough, 10 minutes later, I see him emerge from the station building, darting onto the train, as though not to be a moment late.

Train Tip: There were not many other travelers with me on the train this day. In fact, I saw this border agent quickly walk to the station to verify my passport after receiving it. But I thought, in hindsight, had this station agent been collecting a fistful of passports, I very well should walked off the train and stayed with him, and my passport, to ensure no mix-up. I’m not sure how well that would have been received, but it’s an idea worth pursuing if you feel at all uncomfortable with the circumstances of passport collection. I will test this in the future.

I move myself in the train car to another seat, before someone shows me how easily the seat head rests can be moved up or down.

I thought I’d be napping on this train, but the outside views are too beautiful to close my eyes to – steeples, hilltop villages, and mountain cliffs surround the train as it speeds along the tracks.

It’s really wondrous to experience from inside the train, passing through these picturesque towns and villages covered in snow. I’d recommend a snowy train trip to anyone. This storm hardly slowed the train down. We were only 15 minutes late.

At the train transfer in Geneva, I experience customs control. I wearily approach them, the last night’s melatonin still in my body.

They put my bag through the x-ray machine, but quickly escort me aside for a more thorough inspection. Apparently the zip-lock bag of vitamins sets off their curiosity. I don’t like carrying big, bulky bottles of vitamins on week-long trips, so I so often just put a handful in a zip-lock bag. I didn’t realize I’d be crossing border security similar to an airport. The guard looks at the vitamins whimsically, I explain, yes we Americans take a lot of vitamins – we have ten for every ailment, or for every ailment we fear of getting. He laughs and lets me through.

Train Tip: International train transfers now often require a security check. While not nearly as thorough as at an airport, individualized inspections do occur. Be sure to keep medications in prescription bottles.

I meet some other Americans who tell me they chose a reclining seat reservation rather than a bed in a cabin. I decided to do the same, having already experienced a sleeping cabin on my way over. I share a melatonin with the other Americans, and fall fast asleep. A little less comfortable than the bed in the sleeping cabin, but I’m so tired after Fallas, I hardly notice.

Train Tip: If not sleeping in a cabin on a Night Train, consider bringing a blanket. With bed reservations, you’re given a blanket on the train. In the reclining seat, you have only yourself and your jacket to keep you warm. One of those airline blankets would be perfect to carry around for the trains.

Between March 15-19 each year, the city’s streets erupt with gunpowder and the skies illuminate with fireworks. All of this celebration leads up to the last hours of March 19, when the streets are ablaze with the burning of Fallas, the enchanting statues that fill neighborhood squares with depictions of artistry and modern life.

Train Tip: Thousands of people depart from Valencia’s one train station the next day, March 20. Don’t wait until that day to buy your departure ticket or make your seat reservation. I met people who were waiting for nearly 2 hours in line at the ticket window that next day. Instead, be sure to buy your ticket or seat reservation well in advance. I bought mine safely 4 days before the Fallas celebration ended.

I sit next to an older woman. She´s been carrying her Scottish Terrier from her home in San Fransisco. She´s going to house sit for a friend in Spain. I tell her how my plane in NYC in was turned back from taxiing on the runway. Apparently dry ice had shifted in the cargo bin and was dangerously close to the pets in cargo. She shivers. Her dog barks. She asks me how I´ve handled nearly 30 hours of train travel. I´ve actually enjoyed it, I explain. Zoning out, napping, listening to my I-pod, reading. Having a front row seat to study the landscape. Having time to meet and converse with fellow travelers. It´s been a good ride.

Arrival in Valencia
Each city corner is exploding with firecrackers in preparation for the Fallas. Dreariness and excitement battle inside of me. I seek out my hotel. Naptime. Dreariness, for the moment, wins out.

Montpellier - Barcelona
In a train compartment that looks like it came from the set of Boogie Nights. All 70s: Earth tones and large modular seats. I expected to see a shag rug.

Just as I think that my last 24 hours on a train is too much, a woman next to me recounts how she spent 50 hours traveling in the back of a vegetable truck in Morocco. I´m reminded that everything is relative.

Zurich - Geneve
The elderly Swiss man looks big-eyed out the train window, his head bopping to the sights: fog lifting out of valleys, water cascading down rocks, birds encircling tree lines, families emerging from chatlets. Hairs stem from his ears, an oversized cargo jacket engulfs his frail body, and a red plaid cap covers his forehead. He watches out the window with all the delight of a school child. This can´t be the first time he´s taken this train. Maybe he fears he won´t have so many opportunities more? Next to him a young woman sleeps.

There´s a big car show in Geneve today. That´s why the train is crowded, the woman next to me says. She gets off at the next stop. I use the car show as an ice breaker for the rest of the ride. ¨Are you going to the car show?¨ Nearly everyone is.

Geneve - Lyon, France
The woman in Zurich who re-routed me on this train insisted that my Eurail pass would not be valid on this train. ¨¨It´s overbooked,¨´ she insisted. I could buy a full-fare ticket, she explained, which would get me on the train, and I could try sitting or standing in between cars. The conductor could tell me where to stand. I feared a cattle car. Walking onto the train platform, I noticed the train was hardly half full. I explained my situation to the conductor, showing him my Eurail pass and the full-fare ticket I had to buy. He checked the train´s roster and cheerfully walked me to one of many free seats. If only he´d cheerfully walk me back to get a refund on the full-fare ticket.

Train Tip: Riding the trains in France and Spain is different than in Germany, Switzerland or Austria, I’ve learned. Almost all trains in France and Spain require a seat reservation for Rail Pass holders. Unlike in other countries where you can hop on and off trains at will, most all French and Spanish trains require either an individual seat ticket or a seat reservation, for Rail Pass holders. Book in advance. These space reservations for Rail Pass holders are sometimes limited.

Tonight I´m on a night train. I walk into my sleeping cabin, but there are 2 other people there. Seems crowded, and there are empty cabins. I re-assign myself. The steward, however, wants me in my assigned cabin. The woman has left, apparently she was in the wrong cabin. But still, I think what a waste to have these empty cabins, and this thought wakes me up in the middle of the night, along with the odor from the man´s socks sleeping across from me.

I ask the steward again about the empty cabins. This time I detect his dialect: ¨Italiano?¨ I ask. ¨Si, Italino,¨ his eyes light up. ¨Mi familia in Giffoni, Italia,¨ I stumble through Italian. ¨Ah, my family is Calabria, Italy,¨ he stumbles through English. ¨Come, come,¨ he motions to my shoulder, guiding me to the empty sleeping cabin. ¨It´s okay, it´s okay.¨ ¨Grazie,¨ I reply.

Train Tip: Before lights go out on the Night Train, ask the steward to look at the copy of the train’s passenger registry if you find yourself in a sleeping cabin with others. Some stewards have with them a print-out registry of passenger seating. If the registry says a cabin is empty, ask the steward if you can move there. Usually, they will oblige, if you do it early enough in the evening, before lights out and they collect Passports for overnight border-crossings.