European Rail Adventure: Rome to Berlin by Train (Stops, Tips & Timetables)

Every great animation starts with a solid storyboard, and a European rail adventure is no different. Our Rome-to-Berlin journey wasn't a direct shot—that would be like skipping straight to the credits! Instead, we crafted a sequence that gave us the perfect blend of big cities and smaller scenes that often end up being the most memorable.

Our route looked something like this:

Rome → Florence (2 nights) → Venice (2 nights) → Innsbruck (1 night) → Munich (2 nights) → Dresden (1 night) → Berlin (4 nights)

The beauty of European trains is that they're like working on a flexible animation timeline—you can adjust and rework as you go. We originally planned to stop in Salzburg, but after Miles saw pictures of Innsbruck nestled in the Alps, he gave me those big puppy dog eyes and said, 'Dad, can we go where the mountains hug the city?' How could I say no to that storyboard revision?

For booking, I relied heavily on the Eurail Pass which gave us the flexibility to make last-minute changes. For certain high-speed routes like Florence to Venice on the Frecciarossa trains, you'll still need seat reservations (about €10 each), but the pass covers the base fare.

One afternoon in Florence, we met an Australian family who'd made the rookie mistake of not reserving seats for the popular Venice route. They ended up standing for two hours! Miles looked at me with relief when I pulled out our reservation tickets and whispered, 'Good planning, Dad!' Those small victories keep you going as a parent traveler.

Our adventure kicked off at Rome's Termini station, where Miles immediately transformed into a mini train spotter. 'Dad! That one's going to Paris! And that one to Barcelona!' His enthusiasm was contagious, though I had to remind him we were sticking to our own itinerary—at least for now.

The Rome to Florence leg is the perfect introduction to European train travel—just 1.5 hours on the high-speed Frecciarossa. Pro tip: book seats on the left side of the train (when facing forward) for the best countryside views. These trains move at up to 300 km/h, which I explained to Miles is 'faster than Sonic the Hedgehog on a good day.' That reference landed perfectly with him.

Florence Santa Maria Novella station deposits you right in the heart of the city—unlike airports that leave you stranded in some distant suburb. We walked just 10 minutes to our apartment near the Duomo, dropped our bags, and were admiring Brunelleschi's dome within the hour. That's the magic of train travel—no airport security lines, no waiting for luggage, just straight into the action like jumping to the good part of the story.

In Florence, the Renaissance architecture provided endless inspiration for my animator's eye. Miles and I spent one afternoon sketching the Ponte Vecchio from different angles. A local artist stopped to admire Miles' work and gave him an impromptu lesson on perspective. 'You see how the bridge creates a natural frame?' she explained in accented English. 'That's what we call composition.' Miles beamed with pride, and I quietly added another tally to the 'travel is the best education' column.

Before boarding each train, I made sure our travel backpack was stocked with snacks, water, and entertainment. While Italian high-speed trains have food carts, prices are steep, and the selection is limited. Miles learned this lesson when his €4 hot chocolate turned out to be a tiny cup of what he called 'sad brown water.'

If I were storyboarding the perfect visual transition in an animated film, I couldn't have scripted it better than the train journey from Venice to Innsbruck. This 4-hour route is what I call the 'character transformation sequence' of our trip—you start in the floating city of Venice with its Byzantine and Renaissance influences, and gradually the landscape morphs into the dramatic Austrian Alps.

'Dad, it's like we're traveling through time!' Miles exclaimed as we watched Venice's lagoon fade away, replaced by the rolling hills of northern Italy, then the increasingly dramatic mountains of South Tyrol, and finally the towering peaks surrounding Innsbruck.

This particular route requires a transfer at Verona Porta Nuova station. We had about 30 minutes to change trains, which was plenty of time to grab a quick espresso (for me) and gelato (for Miles, who insisted it was 'research on Italian-to-Austrian ice cream transitions'). The regional train from Verona to Innsbruck is where the real magic happens—make sure to snag seats on the right side for the most dramatic mountain views.

As we climbed higher into the Alps, the train slowed to navigate tight curves, offering extended glimpses of valleys that seemed straight out of a fantasy film. Miles spent almost the entire journey with his nose pressed against the window, his travel journal forgotten on his lap. I've learned to pack this journal for every trip—it's become a time capsule of his observations and sketches that's far more valuable than any souvenir.

'Look how the shadows move across the mountains,' I pointed out, trying to sneak in an animation lesson about light and timing. 'See how it changes the mood completely?' He nodded, absorbing the natural masterclass in visual storytelling that no classroom could provide.

The Brenner Pass, marking the border between Italy and Austria, offers some of the most spectacular railway scenery in Europe. The train slows considerably here, tunneling through mountains and crossing viaducts that offer vertigo-inducing views. When we emerged from one particularly long tunnel to a panoramic Alpine vista, Miles turned to me wide-eyed and said, 'This is better than any 3D movie!'

The final act of our rail adventure featured Germany's impressive ICE (InterCity Express) trains on the Munich to Berlin route. If Italian trains are like classic Renaissance art—beautiful but occasionally temperamental—German trains are precision-engineered machines that would make any animator appreciate the beauty of exact timing and smooth movement.

The direct journey takes about 4 hours, but we opted for a one-night stopover in Dresden to break up the trip and explore what Miles called 'the city that got put back together like a giant puzzle' after learning about its WWII destruction and reconstruction.

Before boarding in Munich, I made sure to stock up on snacks at the Hauptbahnhof's excellent food hall. German train stations are like small cities unto themselves, with surprisingly good dining options. Miles was particularly impressed by the pretzel selection, solemnly declaring, 'Dad, I think I need to try each type. For cultural research.'

The ICE trains deserve special mention for their comfort and amenities. The seats are spacious with plenty of legroom, large windows for sightseeing, and—most importantly for a working dad—reliable Wi-Fi and power outlets. I was able to review some storyboards for an upcoming project while Miles entertained himself with his tablet loaded with games and drawing apps. This tablet has been our travel MVP—lightweight, great battery life, and perfect for keeping him engaged during longer journeys.

What struck me most about this leg was how the landscape told Germany's story—from the Bavarian countryside with its neat farms and onion-domed churches to the more industrial former East German regions, still bearing subtle traces of their Soviet-era past. It's like watching the historical context of a character unfold in visual form.

In Dresden, we had just enough time to visit the meticulously reconstructed Frauenkirche and the Zwinger Palace before catching our final train to Berlin the next day. The short 2-hour journey to Berlin was the denouement of our rail adventure, with Miles already planning our next European train journey before we'd even arrived at Berlin Hauptbahnhof.

'Next time, can we go all the way to Norway, Dad?' he asked. 'I want to see if their trains have special lights for seeing the Northern Lights!' I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm—and mentally began calculating how much vacation time I'd need to save up.

As an animator who's spent years streamlining workflows, I've applied the same efficiency to packing for rail adventures. The key is thinking in terms of mobility and accessibility—you'll be handling your own luggage on and off trains, sometimes with just a few minutes at each stop.

Miles and I each traveled with a single backpack rather than wheeled luggage. This was a game-changer on the charming but utterly impractical cobblestone streets of Venice and the crowded platforms of Florence. The Osprey Farpoint opens like a suitcase for easy access but carries like a comfortable backpack—essential when you're sprinting to catch a connection or navigating the 400+ steps of Florence's Duomo (which Miles insisted we climb twice).

'Dad, remember when that family with the giant suitcases couldn't fit through the train door in Venice?' Miles laughed as we easily boarded with our backpacks. It was a teachable moment about the value of traveling light.

Inside our packs, packing cubes kept everything organized and compressed. I'm not naturally a neat packer—my animation studio looks like a creative tornado hit it—but on trains, organization is crucial. You don't want to be that person emptying their entire bag on the seat looking for a phone charger.

For day trips from each base, we each carried a lightweight packable daypack. Mine doubled as my work bag when I needed to catch up on storyboard reviews during longer train rides. Miles carried his own essentials, which primarily consisted of snacks, his sketchbook, and what seemed like an unnecessarily large collection of colored pencils that he insisted were 'all different, Dad!'

Don't forget to pack a refillable water bottle with a built-in filter. European trains vary wildly in their amenities—German ICE trains have drinking water available, but regional Italian trains often don't. The water bottle became our most-used item, especially during the summer heat wave that hit during our trip. The self-cleaning feature gave me peace of mind when refilling from various sources.

One packing regret? Not bringing proper rain protection. When we got caught in an unexpected downpour in Munich, Miles fashioned a rain hat from the complimentary newspaper on the train and declared himself 'weatherproof.' His improvisation skills made me proud, but next time we'll pack actual rain gear.

As an animator, I've learned that the spaces between the action are just as important as the highlights—the same goes for train travel with kids. Those hours between destinations aren't just transit time; they're opportunities for connection, education, and the kind of unstructured conversations that rarely happen in our busy daily lives.

Miles and I developed what we called our 'Train Rituals' that made the journey as memorable as the destinations. As soon as we settled into our seats, we'd take out our sketchbooks and draw the same view from the window. At the end of the trip, we compared our collection of sketches—his filled with imagination (trains with rocket boosters and mountains with faces), mine attempting to capture lighting and perspective. These sketch sessions taught him observation skills while giving us a unique travel journal.

'Dad, you always draw exactly what's there,' Miles observed somewhere between Innsbruck and Munich. 'But I draw what could be there.' I couldn't argue with his creative philosophy.

We also played language games, attempting to learn essential phrases in Italian and German. Our fellow passengers often became impromptu language teachers. An elderly Italian grandmother sitting across from us on the Florence-Venice route spent an hour teaching Miles numbers and colors in Italian, beaming with pride when he correctly identified 'rosso' and 'verde' outside the window.

For longer journeys, I came prepared with downloadable audio guides about our next destination. While Miles colored, we listened to stories about Bavarian kings, Roman emperors, and the Berlin Wall. Context is everything—whether in animation or travel—and these background stories made each arrival more meaningful.

One of our most successful train activities was surprisingly low-tech. I packed a simple travel game set with chess, checkers, and backgammon. These magnetic games were perfect for train tables and sparked conversations with fellow passengers. A German university student joined our checkers tournament on the Munich-Dresden leg, teaching Miles some strategic moves and sharing stories about growing up in reunified Germany.

Of course, there were moments when digital entertainment saved the day. During a delayed train in Italy (yes, the stereotypes about Italian train punctuality occasionally prove true), Miles' tablet kept frustration at bay. But even screen time became communal when he used his drawing app to create caricatures of fellow passengers, earning laughs when he discreetly showed them to me.