European Train Holiday
3372 km, 19 trains at an average speed of 93 kmph.
[First published as a Facebook Note in May 2016]
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.
April 29th (Day 1–1146km, 6 trains)
1. London, United Kingdom to Brussels, Belgium (365 km at 170 kmph)
I’m walking to Baker Street, to catch the Tube to St. Pancras. Someone (I can’t recall who), once said if you have never missed a plane, you’ve probably wasted too much time in airports — and I’ve never missed a plane. And something I like about international travel by rail is you have none of the check-in 90 minutes before nonsense. However, this time I am worried that something, totally unexpected will go wrong (in the tube, or during security, or customs), and I will miss the Eurostar to Brussels by 30 seconds — leading to a domino effect. This entire train holiday depends on trains running on time, me keeping to a time table, with very little wiggle-room.
Well nothing has gone wrong yet. The new Eurostars look the part.
The weather is good. England is lush and beautiful. Green fields and brown cottages. I drop into the Restaurant car to buy a coffee and some water, and am somewhat surprised that no one is looking out of the window. People look quite cheerful, and like me, probably look forward to a long-weekend’s vacation.
In comparison, the post-tunnel part of France and Belgium is also green, but flatter. Less impressive. It’s starting to rain.
I feel a bit uneasy, walking around Brussels Midi, after all the recent drama around terrorist attacks. But all seems calm and well.
2. Brussels to Cologne, Germany (221 km at 120 kmph)
Brussels Nord is looking sad and gloomy. The rain is not helping. There’s something about Brussels that makes me uneasy. It feels repressed.
Sitting in a train is not too different from sitting in a cafe, sipping a coffee, reading or listening to a book, working on your laptop or just looking at the world go by. Location is vital. The difference with a train, is that you see many different scenes, sometimes moving; sometimes still (like railway stations, or some faraway vista that lies motionless). Already I feel that this trip and the “concept” I’m trying out is a good idea.
With so many trains to take and so many tickets to keep track of, I’ve devised a scheme to make sure I remember where everything is. Phone in left front pocket. Wallet and ticket in right front pocket. Any old tickets in back pockets.
A strange thought. If a colourful and controversial work colleague or friend decides to write an autobiography, and has nothing to say about me, should I be “disappointed, but relieved” or “relieved, but disappointed”?
We pass Liege. This part of Belgium was home to my favourite Belgian, Hercule Poirot. I knew all types of things about Liege from how they cook rabbits, to how they speak French. A couple of weeks ago, I was discussing the topic of “what it means to be Indian” with an Indian friend, and how it seems very different from “what it means to be a Sri Lankan”. I’ve been very confused about “what it means to be Belgian”. Half Dutch, half French, united vaguely by the Catholic Religion. Compared to last time, when I alighted the train and visited Liege, I see a lot more people out of the train window.
The smoked chicken sandwich from the on-board restaurant is good. Sun-dried tomatoes, smoked chicken, chicken sausage, and cream cheese. Train food is so much better than Plane food.
I’m listening to Kemph’s Well Tempered Clavier. It’s in shuffle mode, so sometimes I here fugues follow fugues. I also downloaded a couple of audiobooks for this trip, along with the economist. We are in Germany. I know because we see a lot of German flags. Not unlike the US. We pass a stream, with a wigwam on its banks. Parts feel like winter, parts spring, parts even summer as the sun comes out. Rural gives way to Urban.
Many of the houses we pass look like pictures from a “history of music” with a caption, “Bach lived here”. I’m tempted to take pictures, but I remember the “rules”. Anyway, it’s really hard to put my thoughts into a photograph. The houses are ordered, but beautiful. Lots of colours. And lots of foliage surrounding them. Some of the houses are gabled. German architecture seems far less ornate than English. Mostly clean and simple shapes.
Even the “mass produced” blocks of flats look aesthetic. The lone instance of graffiti is a portrait of Calvin (As in Hobbes, not John). “Je suis Charlie” on a roof. Urban gives way to Industrial.
Huge chimneys. Lots of solar panels. Wind turbines. Our speed? 250 kmph.
It costs one Euro to use the WC at Koln Haupt Barnhof. The facilities are spotless.
3. Cologne to Koblenz (118 km at 133 kmph)
As I wait for the Rhine Express to Koblenz, passengers board the TGV to Paris Nord.
There’s something about trains that make me proud. All that marvellous engineering that has gone into building trains and railways. And the economic, social and political change this has driven.
In “Towards the Flame” (one of my audiobooks for this trip), Dominic Lieven talks about how the age of naval supremacy gave way to the age of railway supremacy.
There’s also something noble about trains in a socialist way. Trains serve everyone, from the poorest of the poor crammed into ancient masses to corroding iron in rural India, to the most plush first class carriages. Most rail systems are state owned. And don’t seem to have succumbed to vulture capitalism. No chance of a pre-departure video with a cheap CEO telling you how much he cares about you, just before they stop the free TV channels, and move to pay-for-view mode.
We are to pass the birthplace of Beethoven. It’s easy to remember “Beethoven was Bonn in Bonn” (pun intended). It’s hard not to feel proud of being human, when you know that Beethoven is a member of your species. The Eroica thunders in my earphones in his honour.
I think to myself, should I see Beethoven’s birthplace in person on foot, instead of from the distance on a train?
This is a different way of experiencing. Are things better when more things are left to your imagination?
Lawns or beds with a small number of very colourful flowers, usually red or yellow, are very common. Matching the German flag. Even the cemeteries have, not lilies, but these colourful flowers. Lakes, with men fishing. It all feels very peaceful. Unsurprisingly, many passengers dose off. The passenger opposite me is dressed in black. Trousers, shirt, sweater, and coat on the hanger. He’s earnestly typing on his laptop. I just notice his dog-collar.
We stop at Bonn. I’m tempted to get off, at least take some pictures. But something reminds me of the rules. As if to confirm this seriousness, the first movement of Beethoven’s third, leads to Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D. Shuffle mode. Old Bonn leads to new Bonn. Tech. Factories.
The first mountains appear. And the rhine. Old houses, smokey, with dark window frames, very square. White specs of flowers on green grass. The Rhine is wide; about 80% of my view. The train skirts one of its shores. On the other side houses where Schumann might have lived and written something. Small shops that specialise in selling various things; I don’t know what. I seem to be the only “Tourist” on the train; O ye queuing up at Disneyland, o what you miss. Nor have I seen a MacDonalds for quite a while. Barges and boats pass us by. Some shaped like submarines. All sporting the flags of countries, cities, provinces, duchies.
Bad Bresig was painted with the same palette as Nuwara-Eliya. Clouds cool; Grass cold; Houses and flowers warm. We depart from Bad Bresig station, gradually gaining speed in time with La Traviata (the Overture).
Is it just me, or do trains seem to go well with most music?
Fields of small yellow flowers; seemingly endless. The Blue-green scenery reminds me of home. Photos would not have done these justice. If you don’t believe me, all I can say is, “come see and be enlightened”. Also, I see more. I notice more. I enjoy more. The priest gets off at Andernach. I continue to type with thumbs. As we draw near to Koblenz, the Economist explains the drawbacks of gross-national-product. As I get up, a girl points out that I should get off Koblenz HB, and probably not Koblenz Stadtmitte. She’s right. [This proved to be a pattern. I had picked rail routes where tourists, much less a Sri Lankan one, were not common. And various nice locals were quick to help, from interpreting foreign signs, to differentiate between Swiss Francs and Euros]
4. Rhine Valley Line: Koblenz to Mannheim (149 km at 95 kmph)
An old castle looks down at Koblenz station. It’s surrounding neighbourhood seems to be mostly populated by “immigrants”. However, if a German lived in Syria, Palestine, or wherever these people came from, she would have been known as an “Expat”. A Billboard says “My first love”. Many billboards seem to have the title in English, but the details in German.
Back at Koblenz station after a short walk, I try out a pastry with cheese and chopped bacon.
As we restart our journey along the Rhine, castles get older and more imposing. The river is so wide it looks more like a lake — not unlike Interlaken; with a few differences. The water is dark green, not blue. The hills are hills; not mountains. The greenery is almost Irish in lushness. A medieval tower jumps out of nowhere.
Churches, houses, all ornate, noble, and very German. The sort of churches and houses Brahms might have written. There is unmistakable Ottoman influence. I decide to skip the Bruckner until tomorrow, when I’ll be in Austria.
After Mainz the scenary is a lot more industrial, and less interesting. The terraine is also dry, with lots of shrub jungle.
On a hilltop flies the German flag, and slightly behind and above it, the EU flag. Some sort of sign? My transit in Mannheim was not long, but I had time to try out a Wiener Mandelhomie; a chocolate coated almond bread.
5. Mannheim to Offenburg (141 km at 165 kmph)
I’m reminded of Karlsruhe Gardens, Colombo, as we pass Karlsruhe. The sun is shining bright, and the odd garden sports a sunbather. The industrial scenery continues, only to give away to more mountains, right at the end, as we approach Offenburg.
6. Blackforest Line: Offenburg to Konstanz (152 km at 67 kmph)
As we leave Offenburg, the first snow-capped mountains begin to appear. We pass idyllic towns, parks, more and more water. The odd beer factory. For some reason all this seems to merge into nature, rather than disrupt it. We pass one old farm, with moss on the roof.
Small square windows, and a bridge over a brook. The setting sun shines golden on the trees and logs. The Blackforest, in contrast, is dark; with rocks, tunnels and shadows. Meadows dressed in long grass and yellow flowers. Lakes, parks and the promise of holidays.
Konstanz is so close to the Swiss border, that the inhabitants fooled WW2 bombers from bombing it, by keeping the lights on during night, thus making it seems like part of Switzerland.
The bridge that joins the two parts of Konstanz is amazing. On one side is the Rhine, on the other side, a much wider lake, that is also the Rhine. It feels the train is floating in the water. The sun is setting on the wider side, and for some reason looks more like a sunrise. I’m not sure of the physics of this, or even whether a sunrise should look different from a sunset.
April 30th (Day 2–664km, 5 trains)
7. Konstanz to Zurich, Switzerland (70 km at 54 kmph)
Sunrises remind one of other sunrises. The hotel restaurant as a very ornate roof. German sausages, though not spicy, have a lot of interesting herb and fruit flavours. I can see the station clock through the window to my right. For some reason, this feels more reassuring that looking at my phone. Lots of time before I catch the 7.03 to Zurich.
As with all the trains yesterday (no train was late arriving, or left more than 1 minute late), my train is sharp on time.
Another thing I love about trains. You get in at a specified time, spend a specified time on the train, and get off at another specified time. Everything very specific. Contrast this with car travel where you have a combination of too much control and too little (e.g. unexpected traffic jams), or plane travel.
Freedom is often the same as giving up control. Beyond looking at some amazing scenary, listening or reading a small set of books, or just thinking, there’s little I can do. And this is so freeing.
We slide through tiny farms with sheep. Reminds me of a toy model for some reason. In between, are houses which look very modern and European. Lots of wood, and large windows. The first of our snow covered mountains appear. I loved Zurich on my last trip. This time is no different. It’s another bright sunny day.
8. Arlberg Line: Zurich to Innsbruck, Austria (286 km at 80 kmph)
As my destination is Austria via Liechtenstein, the music is courtesy of Bruckner.
The sunlight on the shores of Lake Zurich is almost blinding. The lake itself is like a solid marble floor. The water in the lakes and streams are not black or brown, but a blue green. This is probably due to light coloured bed rock. Seeing people have fun (fish, camp, walk, run, laugh) while enjoying nature, enhances that enjoyment; recursively.
Bludenz, and the beginning of the famous Arlberg Line. We pass houses, villages and churches of ordinary people; ordinary, but stunningly picturesque. The trees are getting taller, and the foliage thicker. More snow-capped mountains, and lines of frozen rivers. The trees and the soil gets dryer.
I have about an hour to spend in Innsbruck, and I do a walk from the Barnhof to the river, passing a couple of historical sites. A Schnitzel burger makes a good lunch on the move. It’s off season, and the town is quiet. I didn’t like Vienna much, and nor did I really like
9. Innsbruck, Austria to Sargans, Switzerland (194 km at 73 kmph)
Back the way we came. Adding details to this diary.
10. Sargans to Chur (28 km at 84 kmph)
There is a certain introverted peacefulness that only being surrounded by high mountains can create. More turquoise water.
11. Bernina Express: Chur to St. Moritz (86 km at 41 kmph)
The approach to Bergun is stunning. A village with a church, and Piz Ela in the background.
Multiple viaducts, some with arched bridges. Loops and hairpin bends. The first signs of ice on the road. Still, lots of bright sunshine. The streams are now black — not unlike Scotland. Streams of melting water flows through the snow.
Preda. The mountains are like Yosemite. Bever. Another small village with green grass and white flowers. Houses have some strage white notation on the walls. Cross between ancient and mathematical (lots of years, and other numbers). Samedan. Fancy modern houses — likely holiday homes. Lots of wood, solar panels, but seem to fit in perfectly into the surroundings.
Like Innsbruck, St. Moritz is deserted. The walk from the Barnhof to the hotel up the hill is quite strenuous, especially after a long day, and at 6000 feet. The view of the lake is stunning though.
Excellent minestrone for dinner. Forgot to bring a Switzerland compatible charger, so end up charging phone with laptop. Realise that I’ll have the same problem tomorrow night in Domodossola (Italy, which has yet another plug-point standard).
May 1st (Day 3–378 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.
May 2nd (Day 4–1184 km, 3 trains)
17. Domodossola to Lausanne, Switzerland (210 km at 110 kmph)
Final day. Unlike Saturday and Sunday, my train doesn’t leave until nearly 10am. Note for the future: This is a good idea. While the early train rides paid off in terms of more time, and beautiful scenery, I could have done with an hour or two of extra sleep the previous two nights.
Outside the station, a throng of small children speaking in Italian reminds me of La vita e bella.
The plates, cups and saucers are of multiple colours — yet they are not gaudy.
Outside the station, a throng of small children speaking in Italian reminds me of La vita e bella.
There is radio music playing in the railway station. There is a certain chaos. A chaos which order admires and envies.
On to Lausanne. The last two acts of La Boheme. Puccini and the surrounding countryside have a lot in common.
Montreux and Lausanne look a lot like Locarno or Lugano, with the exception of the French architecture and signage. Lake Geneva is enormous, blue and beautiful. Reminds me of the see in Hawaii. So still and smooth.
18. Laussane to Paris, France (517 km at 141 kmph)
I have about 2 hours to kill in Paris — so I decide to walk from the Gare du Lyon, along the Seine, through Notre Damme and the Louvre to the Gare du Nord.
And off to Paris. My first ride on a TGV. The top speed of 300kmph was a bit underwhelming. 300 is not much different from 200. But the French countryside was pleasant, sunny, and the food on the train was good. We pass cows and Dijon.
I have about 2 hours to kill in Paris — so I decide to walk from the Gare du Lyon, along the Seine, through Notre Damme and the Louvre to the Gare du Nord. I get there an hour early, but there is a long line.
19. Paris to London (457 km at 174 kmph)
It’s the last day of a bank holiday long-weekend in the UK, and the check-in line for the Eurostar is the longest I’ve seen. The train is held 22 minutes, so that all the passengers have time to go through customers, security and board the train. Thankfully, this last train is the only train out of so 19 this long weekend, that is not on time. Had any been delayed, this vacation would have been seriously disrupted.
London St. Pancras, the short walk to Kings Cross, the Circle Line back to Baker Street, and the walk home.
Epilogue
One of the Audio Books I listened to on this trip was Mindfulness: The Eight-Week Meditation Programme for a Frantic World. This is a quote from that book, quoting a poem by Roger Keyes.
“Hokusai says look carefully. He says pay attention, notice. He says keep looking, stay curious. He says there is no end to seeing…”
