When I was 18 and 19, I travelled around Europe with my friend Randy. We split up when I decided to stay living in Marbella in southern Spain, and he decided to go on to Morroco with another Canadian.
We met up again in southern Germany, at a train station where we both, independently, and without seeing each other for months, decided to take the same train to Amsterdam. From there, I made my way to Amsterdam, then northern Holland, through Germany to Copenhagen in Denmark, where I was down to $5, so I hitch-hiked back to Hamburg.
I got to the hostel 10 minutes after it closed at 10PM, along with 5 or 6 other young people who appeared out of nowhere. We couldn't get in; they wouldn't answer the doorbell, nor respond to our pounding. A cop came along and wanted to know what the hell we were doing (in German, of course). We explained the problem, he tried pounding, no response, took us all back to the police station and gave us each a cell. That's the only time I ever went to jail.
I went to the Canadian Embassy in Hamburg and said I was flat broke, could I borrow $10 to get back to Scotland as I had relatives there and money and a return ticket in safekeeping. They said, "No." I was quite disappointed. Then the lady continued, "That's not enough for such a trip, we'll loan you $30." So I filled out a form in quintuplicate and they gave me $30 in Deutschmarks; when I got back to Canada, there was a bill from the Canadian government for $30.
I made my way to the coast of France, Calais, and took the ferry to Dover. After buying my ferry ticket, I was down to about $6 or $7. At that time, Britain had a requirement that incoming tourists had to have at least 300 pounds in funds on the person. They didn't normally ask, but I looked like a bum: raggedy clothes, dirty backpack, long hair down to my shoulders, full beard. The Immigration officer looked me up and down, and started saying "How much money..." while he was opening my passport, then he saw my birthplace was listed as "London, England", and he stopped and said, "Welcome home, mate", stamped my passport and gave it back to me.