“As long as it’s not January…” I mutter to myself.
It probably comes out more like “mmnoaory,” half-mumbled into my pillow, but my dog hears it anyway. He hops on the bed and sighs loudly and dramatically, as if I’ve personally offended him by waking up at 4:50 a.m.

I give him an apologetic pet for the disturbance. “Brrrb, brrb.” My attention shifts to the Bundesliga app. The fixture schedule is out. Please be spring, I think. C’mon mid-April… come on, mid-April…

I’ve already decided my next trip will be built around one thing: seeing FC Bayern play FC Köln in Cologne. A Fussball great, back in the Bundesliga where they belong. I’m ready to book the trip. I’m already daydreaming about standing in the stadium. Worst-case scenario? We find a great sports bar in Cologne. Second-worst-case scenario? The match is in… January.

And then I see it. The match is on January 15th-ish.

A quick Google search confirms what I already knew: January is not the ideal time to visit Germany’s most beautiful ugly city. Christmas markets have packed up. Carnival hasn’t started yet. It’s a quiet, gray in-between with no glow, no chaos, just… weather…supposedly.

My gut sinks. I eye the other option: the FC Köln game in Munich in May. It’s Tempting and it’s likely to be expensive. The last game of Bayern’s season. I’m not sure what the trade-off could be, and I’m scared to find out.

Something shifts. That part of me that had secretly hoped to catch last year’s Christmas markets starts whispering:
What if it’s not a consolation trip… but a winter expedition?

I start imagining tobogganing in the Austrian Alps. Snowshoeing in the Black Forest. Coveted winter spiced beers. Warming up with schnitzel and maybe Belgian hot chocolate.

We could fly into Amsterdam. Take a train to Belgium. See a touristy spot in the off-season. From there, We could head through Cologne, maybe into the Black Forest, and on to Bavaria. Rail routes, snow, cold, quiet. A different kind of off-season. A different kind of peak season.

Yes, I had imagined sunny spring days in Cologne as the backdrop for my stadium dreams. But now?
Now I’m a little intimidated and a lot intrigued.

I’m a girl from Phoenix,  Arizona, after all. What do I know about cold, damp, wind-whipping winters? Not much.
But I know how to pack.
I know how to travel by train.
And I know how to follow an idea once it starts growing.

What does it mean to travel by rail in the winter?

I’m going to find out.