European Train Holiday (Day 3)
St. Moritz to Domodossola
I’ve been fascinated by trains since I was a small child. I’ve wondered what a train-only vacation would look like; as in a vacation where I spend all of my “awake time” on a train. I’m about to find out. I’ve hastily planned such a vacation, comprising of some of my favourite rail sections in Europe.
This is Day 3.
2016 May 1st (378 km, 5 trains)
12. Bernina Express, continued: St. Moritz to Tirano, Italy (57 km at 21 kmph)
St. Moritz is white. It has snowed overnight. And it’s still snowing.
Love the Italian breakfast. What a tiny plate of bacon and scrambled eggs. Time and time again, quality trumps quantity.
I walk back downhill to the station, with the snow pinching my face. This time my train is a bit later, 7.48; still, quite early. Bought Swiss variation on a croissant (“Lindel” something). More buttery and less flaky. Continue to love this “station food”.
The train is climbing steadily. The “train” is actually four engines connected together. I see the speedometer in the engine compartment in front of me ranging from 20 to 50 kmph. As we will soon be in Italy, the soundtrack is La Boheme.
The surroundings are complete covered with snow; a different type of beauty. I wonder if it would be necessarily better, if it hadn’t. Everything is one of three colours: White snow, Black Tree Barks, or Dark Grey waters flowing through the snow.
Piz Bernina from Bernina Diavolezza. Osprizio Bernina, 2244m and the highest point on this journey.
We gradually begin our descent. Gradually, the scenery gets lets white and more green. I’m not sure if this grass is natural, or has been cultivate to prevent erosion; it looks so “manicured”.
Miralago. “Mirror Lake”. Not exactly like a mirror today; probably due to the direction of the sunlight.
The Brusio loop reminds me of the Demodara loop which I experienced more than 20 years ago en-route from Ella to Badulla.
Tirano. My first time in Italy. Visit the Tirano Basilica. Reminds me of Nuwara-eliya. Cars parked in driveways.
13. Tirano to Monza (147 km at 64 kmph)
Monza is a bit run down — and the light drizzle adds to this effect. I have about an hour to wonder around, so I visit the Douma and the town square. Lunch is three delicious Italian pastries: A small eclaire — the chocolate filling is like a mouse, the topping is hard; a small pear shape cake dipped in an orange liquare, and a cream horn filled with fresh custard. This, washed down with thick hot chocolate and hazelnut and chocolate ice cream.
14. Monza to Bellinzona, Switzerland (101 km at 74 kmph)
Lecco. Lugano and then Bellinzona. We pass chocolate factories and the odd green house.
15. Bellinzona to Locarno (25 km at 62 kmph)
The train to Milan, which happens take the same platform as the train to Locarno, is delayed. As a result, the platform is changed for the Locarno train. This is announced in Italian and German — which I don’t comprehend. Luckily, I see a train marked “Locarno 4.30” on the opposite platform, so I make a dash, up the overhead bridge and down to the other platform, and into the train. Moments later the doors lock. I feared this would happen far more often on my trip — thankfully this was the only once.
Locarno is like Lugano. Relaxing, but not inspiring. Common to tourist resorts, I suppose. It did not have the ideas of London, the freedom of Amsterdam, or the culture of Paris.
16. Centavalli Express: Locarno to Domodossola, Italy (48 km at 27 kmph)
The Centavalli (100 Valleys) Express is a small train, more like a light rail. It keeps to about 30 kmph as it winds around the valleys and mountains. Houses spec these huge boulders of rock, which are richly gardened with foliage. Emerald lakes and waterfalls to their sides.
Toot, toot (The train actually has an old-fashioned whistle, that the driver pulls from time to time).
We pass a field, oddly populated with deer, and…geese. Hotel Eurosola is interesting. While the rooms have been newly fitted with modern accessories. It is nothing fancy.
Photos on walls indicate that this has been a stopping point probably on the way to Brig or Locarno for film stars and other famous people. Perhaps in another era. More photos of Berlusconi and an assortment of shady mafia types (in shades), indicate a shadier past.
No one speaks English. I’m thankful for my smattering of Italian musical terms.
