On a clear winter morning, the Baltic Express explodes out of the Czech capital. Medieval Prague is shown on the train’s windows like a Netflix teaser as the heavens lightens. From armchair seats in private compartments, a city of Rococo castles and vast boulevards appears: the “Paris of the East,” essentially unharmed by Nazi occupation in the 1940s or communist planning in the 1970s. Moments later the train hums across a classic Czech landscape. As the Baltic Express speeds north, frozen fishing lakes and onion-domed cathedrals pass.
Four times daily, the recently introduced Baltic Express line from Prague to Gdynia on Poland’s Baltic coast transports passengers straight into the most energetic and less-traveled cities in Central Europe—destinations that were once difficult to access. After a week on the beach, the trip attracts foreign guests wishing to mix a city break with a rural experience.
Really is the "Baltic Express" an Express Train?
“Baltic Express” is an aspirational misnomer. Built to rival budget airlines, this new 878km link is not one of the fast, plane-killer routes developing in recent years—like London to Amsterdam or Istanbul to Ankara. Rather, the eight-hour journey provides a picturesque history tour over overlapping kingdoms, stopping at some of the most energetic cities in the Czech Republic and Poland, including Gdansk and Poznan. Best of all, this very reasonably priced and practical trip lets travellers jump on and off anywhere they wish.
What distinguishes the main train station in Prague?
The trip starts in Prague’s Hlavní Nádraží station, a cathedral to train travel with twin cupolas rising from its roof like Roman temples. Constructed in 1871, when the Austro-Hungarian Empire erected rail lines to link its extensive territory, the station embodies this great goal.
Inside, the main departure hall is a communist rainbow of basic hues, left over from the years under Soviet control of the Czech Republic. One storey above, nevertheless, an original Art Nouveau waiting room still stands with a towering dome above Romanesque sculptures and polished brass rails. A great way to start a continental meander, the Foyer Café debuted in an adjacent salon in 2024 with Czech riesling and Viennoiserie pastries high above the busy throng.
Why Stop in Pardubice?
The first hop-off stop, Pardubice, results from an hour on the Baltic Express. With a historic town square evocative of Prague, this 100,000-person city radiates Czech appeal. Austro-Hungarian townhouses—familiar in places like Sarajevo, Brno, and Lviv—add a touch of imperial beauty; church steeples fashioned like space rockets adorn the streets. Still, the village stays off the usual route and only a small number of visitors are evident.
Statues honoring Czech aviator Jan Kašpar, who flew south to Prague along the railway lines presently used by the Baltic Express in 1911, also abound at Pardubice. Long competing with the romanticism of rail, aviation’s efficiency now seeks to unite both realms.
How Does the Trip Change Across the Polish Border?
Rejoining the train one hour before dusk, the scene opens toward the Polish border. Oak woods, feral deer, and freezing streams first; later, as the train approaches the quickening darkness, pine forests, hunting lodge, and heavy snow. Only a choral chirp from passengers’ phone networks alerts modern, borderless Europe of the passage into Poland.
Marta Kortas, a Gdansk data analyst, shares a sitting cabin. “I have friends in Prague and southern Poland thus the train has made a new connection for me,” she says. Rural Silesia flies past, providing stops for salt mines and thermal springs. “I even dreamed of returning a few days a month and riding the train to my office. Direct links connecting Prague, Wroclaw, and Poznan help to simplify that dream.”
The Baltic Express reaches Wroclaw, Poland’s historical third city at 20:00. It was the German-speaking city of Breslau, with a Gothic rail station built by a Prussian architect, before 1945. Poland’s borders moved west following World War II; the train station, originally Breslau Hauptbahnhof, was renamed Wroclaw Glowny; direct services to Berlin still run on tracks established by the German Empire over a century ago.
Why is the Baltic Express a different kind of travel experience?
Waking up to Wroclaw’s whirling snow, a walk along the eight-carriage train finds bike racks, bench tables, a dining car, and a coffee bar inhabited by everyone from Polish grannies to Czech work-from-homers. Jan Hrabáček of Czech national rail operator ČD, who helped create the route, expected this mix.
“We already connect from Prague to Budapest and Warsaw,” he explains. “The Czech and Polish transport ministers wanted the quickest possible route from Prague and Wroclaw to the sea.” Not business but tourism will be the main summer motivator. Originally driving south to Croatia, Czechs now find it costly. They have found Poland as a destination; the beaches are excellent and the temperature is mild.”
Why did you stop in Poznan?
Poznan, a Polish cultural powerhouse with an old town square right out of a storybook, is one of the best hop-off sites. Remarkably reminiscent of Poland’s stormy past, the Military Museum displays rakish Napoleonic tunics and elegant air force uniforms. Originally converted into a warehouse by the Nazis, the Basilica of Our Lady of Perpetual Help today features a ceiling as detailed as a Fabergé egg. Once shuttered during the Soviet era, the city’s amazing brick brewery, Stary Browar, has reopened as a cultural and retail center next to the train station.
How at home does the Baltic Express feel?
The dining car takes front stage on the last trip to Gdansk. A server pours Łomża beer; an aide serves pumpkin barley with greens; a cook grills fresh gołąbki, pork-stuffed cabbage leaves. Operating since 1948, WARS, the catering firm, has a particular place in Polish hearts. “The trains Poland had ten years ago were slow and cold,” notes marketing strategist Karolina Paszkiewicz. “Today, my four and a half hour journey from Wroclaw to Gdansk passes. It’s time to get off once you’ve finished eating and opened your laptop.”
At the end of the line, what waits?
The scene flattens and freezes as the Baltic Express approaches its last stop; birds spin overhead, indicating that the coast is close. Still a historic center, Gdansk, Poland’s gateway to the world for seven centuries, is Designed by German architects under Imperial control, the rail station reflects Colmar station in the Alsace area of France. While the European Solidarity Centre honors the part the shipworkers played in toppling Soviet communism, the Museum of the Second World War marks the place where the opening bullets of the battle were fired.
Running on rails set by Austrians and Germans, the Baltic Express is more than just a train journey; it’s an interwoven passage across history, culture, and landscapes, giving a taste of independence right in Central Europe.
