Dominic was a roundish fellow with a rosy complexion and glasses. He was my roommate in the sleeper train I was in to Zurich, before heading to Interlaken. The room was designed to hold six people for sleep when needed, but we were on the bottom seats, with plenty of room above - by train standards - to sit up and chat.

From Begel, the German-speaking part of Switzerland, he tells me of his time in Prague, and how he already misses it. "I've been there nine times, and every time I go, is beautiful," he tells me. "I have to go back to school, and I was going to stay an extra night, but I've done that before. You get off the train with your bags and go to university."

He laughs after a moment's silence. "Why don't you have books out?" he simulates his experience with the train-to-class experience. "Well I just come from Prague.

"So what is in those bags?

"Well I have my underwear and my socks and some shirts, if you want me to take them out."

He gives a hearty laugh. "Not the best way to make a joke to a cranky woman."

One of the stops we arrive at is an ample opportunity for Dominic to sneak out for a smoke. I accompanied him on the first stop to keep him company, pretending to smoke by exhaling into the crisp, cold air.

I share some of my Star Wars chocolate wafer I bought for 2 krones - equivalent to 2/17s of a dollar Australian - and we discuss the wafer's resemblance to paper. He in turn offered me a better tasting treat that resembled a wafer plate. "Fair trade," he said. "Paper for plastic."

We were talking about the incredibly cheap Czech beer, and how foolish we both were for not bringing some on our trip. By pure co-incidence, a passenger walks past with six Heinekens. We look at each other, grab our passports and hunted for where the beer was plentiful. Knocking on the service door, a slight pause and cough preceded the opening of the door. We ask for beer, and she gives it to us, in a not-so-Czech-cheap price. She closes the door in a hurry, and Dominic laughs. "She was smoking in there. I could tell."

Later on, at another stop, Dominic tells me that we've arrived at the Czech Republic's last stop before Austria. I had originally thought we were to pass through Germany, but it was a nice surprise. These stops involved the customs officers stamping your passport. As they came to our room, they took my passport, examined it, and stamped it. They hand mine back, glance at Dominic's bright red Swiss passport, and close the door.

"That sucks," he tells me. "I don't get stamps on trains because of my Swiss passport."

"Well it's probably because you're a neutral country," I respond. "Not the type to go around hijacking trains."

"I could be holding a stolen passport for all they know."

He shows me his passport to tell of his travels. When I see his picture, I notice his rosy complexion again, but in a more intense appearance. It almost looked like he was wearing make-up, looking more female. So I created a quick "Wow, he might be a cross-dresser" thought, but then realizing his skin condition, I changed my thought.

Our last hour of beer-drinking and travel-talking before bed was quick, and we slept. We wake to the sound of a knock on the door and breakfast in the conductor's hand. With a small tea and some bread and jam, we were out of the train in Zurich.

6am in Zurich is cold. I had an hour to wait for my train to Interlaken, so I read my book, on a bench hiding from the piercing winds of Switzerland's morning.