The train to Spain was never going to
be enough. Once you’ve sampled the – shall we say ‘peculiar’ – delights of rail
travel beyond the borders of dear old Blighty, chances are that sooner or later
you’ll need another fix.
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| The numerous trains to Spain: By hook or by crook, swear I'm going to 'em all (The Man in Seat 61: http://www.seat61.com/Spain.htm#London-Barcelona_by_daytime_train) |
My good friend The Consultant has a
dentist appointment in Budapest – it’s where every middle class Guardianista
goes to get their teeth fixed nowadays – and asks me to join her to make a week
of it. Or rather, several days of hard-core sightseeing, the likes of which we
haven’t experienced since Mexico City in 1990. I’m quite happy to tag along
whilst she feverishly goes through the guidebook, ticking off every church,
museum, art gallery and tat shop within a ten kilometre radius but first I need
to get away on my for a bit of time on my own.
There’s a ten-day gap in my diary
between finishing a teaching stint at summer school and presenting myself in
downtown Buda – or is it Pest? It’s marked down as ten days of walking already
but The Consultant’s kind offer adds another dimension to my plans. At first I
consider Hungary’s Blue Trail but deterred by both linguistic terrors and a
distinct lack of undulations I plump for Romania. Yes, yes; I hear what you’re
saying. Not so much of an adventurous decision given that Romanian is a romance
language; still in my comfort zone – but only just.
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| The Train to Transylvania - I took the 'alternative' route via Brussels and Cologne (The Man in Seat 61: http://www.seat61.com/Romania.htm#.VAguU1eCBFo) |
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There was, of course, no question of
taking the plane, even more so once I’d read about the ‘Dacian Express’ that
links Vienna and Bucharest. Thanks to the munificent ‘Man in Seat 61’, planning
a journey right across the continent is now more pleasure than pain. The
omniscient deity of European rail travel offers a number itineraries, I
selected the option I considered the most romantic: Eurostar to Cologne via
Brussels (same fare for both destinations if you make the onward connection
with ICE) then an overnight service to Vienna. The girt humungous gap between
Vienna and Bucharest would be breached by the Dacian Express, leaving Vienna at
19:46 and passing through Transylvania in the early afternoon of the following
day. For too long I dithered over a standard seat, couchette or sleeping berth;
by the time I’d opted for the latter it was too late for the ticket to be
mailed to me (no e-tickets on this service, as far as I can tell, though you
might try the Hungarian Railways website). Just as well, prevarication saved me
seventy quid[1].
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| In the still of the night: Bristol Temple Meads at dawn |
So, last week I left The Consultant’s
apartment in the leafy inner suburbs of north Bristol at some ungodly hour to
catch the 04:47 from Bristol Temple Meads to London Paddington. An uncivilised
hour, perhaps, but a very civilised time to travel; it appears stupid o’ clock
in the morning brings out the best in travellers and travel staff alike. We
distance ourselves from the bleary-eyed, tired and emotional adolescents
waiting for the first train to Weston-super-Mare. They’ve been out on the town,
celebrating – or maybe commiserating– their ‘A’ level results and one of them,
ever the wit, calls out I as stride purposefully and very soberly by: ‘don’t
stop walking’.
If only he knew; if only he knew.
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| And in the beginning there was darkness ... and the 04:47 Bristol Temple Meads to London Paddington |
At twenty-past six in the morning,
Paddington, too, exists in a state of relative calm, before the hubris of
commuterdom takes over and assumes control. This is London at its crepuscular
best; the urchin hours of twilight workers, louche hedonists, Champagne
Charlies (of either gender and none) and the indolent, itinerant traveller. We
are always on our way to somewhere but we never quite arrive – such is our
fate.
There’s time for a leisurely stroll to
St Pancras and, like a bucolic peasant up from the sticks, I find myself
absent-mindedly meandering through the side-streets, trying to come to terms
with the capital’s inflated conception of its own importance: but I’ve been
here before and I’m not going to get sucked in again. What does impress, during
this forty five minute perambulation, are the numerous and diverse expressions
of religiosity and faith present in the urban landscape, many of them hidden or
tucked away down a side street or behind scaffolding.
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| Everyone's favourite over-exuberant gothic - St Pancreas Station |
The purist within me worries about the
Eurostar ‘experience’, that with its ‘airport-lite’ departure lounge and
security gates it’s not so much a train service as an aeroplane on wheels.
Those were my thoughts the first time I took the train to continental Europe,
only a couple of months ago but second time around I think that’s probably a
little unfair. Yes, there’s an element of ‘airport-lite’ in the boarding
process but one crucial aspect is present – humanity. Everyone seems to have a
little bit more time for everyone else. The departure lounge exudes calm, collected
and composed; none of the frantic, headless-chicken acts witnessed on a
day-to-day basis in your Luton, Stansted or Gatwick airports (I have a soft
spot for Bristol but that’s as far it goes). And no endless aisles of duty-free
to negotiate; it’s a railways station, not a shopping mall – amen to that.
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| The 08:58 London to Brussels Eurostar |
Somewhere
under the sea I drift off but I wake in time for Belgium, the journey’s first
big show. Brussels, politically the heart of Europe – or rather, technically,
one of two hearts, as if the city were a technocratic timelord – also feels as
if it has railway lines running like veins through its torso. A transport hub,
full of Europeans on the move. It’s the beginning, the doorway to a multicultural,
multilingual web of railway networks that spin out of its grimy platforms.
Brussels Midi/Zuid station consumes a vast amount of energy, a dynamic enclave
of travellers forever passing through, to the most distant parts of the
continent and beyond. A place of endless and enormous possibilities; an itinerant’s
wet dream.
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| Drab but paradoxically intoxicating Brussels railway landscape |
From
Brussels to Cologne takes a couple of hours, sat right behind the driver’s cab.
The scenery slowly unfolds: undulating farmland, the gentle contours beginning
to exert themselves as if they can sense the great rift of the Rhine Valley
looming on the horizon and the kilometres slipping away. We’re already putting
the past behind us, already got more than one eye on tomorrow. It’s getting
serious.
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| 16:25 ICE from Brussels to Cologne |
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| The Driver's seat |
Cologne’s
cathedral is, of course, a must see but I can’t help thinking that the vast
roof canopy that spans the hauptbahnhof platforms is the city’s really
piece-de-resistance. I’d like to avoid using the old ‘travellers’ temple’ cliché,
I really would, but you can see how I got lulled into lazy literary techniques.
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| Cologne: Cathedral and square |
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| Cologne: Station canopy and Cathedral |
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| The gem that is Cologne's station canopy |
On
a Friday evening, at rush hour in the height of the summer, Koln Hauptbahnhof
is heaving, busting at its seams – and they’re just a little frayed. Commuters
and tourists, travellers and inter-railers – good to see this adolescent rite
of passage is still going strong – cram into the concourse as a storm rages
overhead. The remnants of Hurricane Bertha are still chasing across northern
Europe but the overnight train to Vienna will whisk me away from her scudding
clouds and driving rain. Austria beckons, beyond that an untraveled world ...
[1] I booked the Eurostar London – Cologne via
Brussels via the Eurostar and Cologne– Vienna via Deutsche Bahn (DB) – probably
the best place to book most tickets for European rail travel though neither DB,
Austrian Railways (OBB) nor Romanian Railways (CFR) offer tickets for the
Dacian Express online. Voyages SNCF (formerly Rail Europe) does but it would
have charged me €80 more than I paid when buying on the day of travel at Vienna
Westbahnhof).
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