The cheapest way to travel from Venice to Paris
It was quite a cultural shock when I disembarked from a superbly efficiently organised American cruise ship in Venice and boarded an Italian train bound for Milan Central Station especially as I had purchased second class tickets for just a two-hour journey. People swarmed onto the departing platform coming from all directions. It was total chaos when the train arrived. Everyone pushed and shoved with heavy luggage trying to negotiate the narrow steps onto the train while arriving passengers were still trying to alight from the train. People collided with each other as they struggled down the narrow aisles between the seats and blocked each other coming from both directions. Of course many did not sit in their reserved seats only to cause further disturbance when the actual person who held the correct ticket for that reserved seat descended on the non-observant traveller and demanded they and their luggage disappear immediately. Animated conversations did ensue in a mixture of various colourful languages. By now the train was going full speed ahead. Ah, I thought this is Italy after all. For the next couple of hours, the journey was smooth sailing.
At Milan Centrale we caught a taxi to Milan Garibald Station bound for Gare De Lyon, Paris. It would have been a nightmare to negotiate six weeks of luggage any other way. This seven-and-a-half hour journey on a French train was so colourful and interesting that during the trip I grabbed my pen and notebook and recorded the experience. This time we had purchased first-class seats and I looked forward to comfort, nice scenery and rest. Again there were major traffic jams up and down the aisles as people excitedly looked for their seats. A much smarter crowd I thought. Many passengers found their correct reserved numbered seat only to find they were in the wrong first-class coach. Watching the exchange between these travellers was like being in the middle of a French comedy movie.
As soon as we left Milan an inspector discovered a woman and child who had boarded without a ticket. I never found out if she was fined or was sent off the train at the first stop. I then noticed this young black guy who kept walking up and down all the carriages looking rather distressed and scanning everyone’s luggage above and below the seats. I immediately became suspicious and when an inspector checked my ticket I enquired about this seemingly strange behaviour. I was told that the guy had all his luggage stolen and was frantically searching the train in the hope of identifying his bag and apprehending the culprit. The inspector reckoned that the perpetrator had stolen the goods in Milan before the train departed and had also quickly alighted before the train had left that station. However, this guy passed by all of the passengers on so many more occasions that people became nervous and made complaints to the inspectors. Next thing I saw three inspectors interrogating him at the end of my carriage. At the next stop three policemen boarded the train. My imagination took over and I told my husband that “Rosie Poirot” had the answer. It was a cover story that this guy had lost everything including his passport. He was an illegal immigrant from some terrible third-world place. The story was a ploy. He had somehow made it to Italy and was endeavouring to reach France and freedom. At the next stop the police left the train. I don’t know what happened to the young man but we never saw him again and there was still five hours to our destination.
Now some people had pre-ordered meals which lead to the next mishap that I witnessed. In the seat diagonally opposite sat an elderly couple, the gentleman was seated in the aisle seat and they had just received their trays of food. A young woman happened to walk by just as the train swerved and the girl fell into the man’s lap just as he was pouring himself a glass of red wine. Sadly, he would arrive in Paris with red wine stains all over his very stylish shirt.
Next we saw three people marched out of first class because they had purchased second class tickets. Sitting opposite me was another young black guy, well dressed, working on his laptop, ear phones and all. He was singing quite loudly oblivious to the passengers around him. I did not recognise the language or the song that sounded reggae. He was a nice young man. He could see my window seat had an obstructed view and he kindly offered to change places with me as he had a single window seat with a great view. He said he was working so would I like to enjoy the scenery. I immediately changed places with him.
We were travelling in daylight through the Dolomites and the French Alps. Dotted on the hillsides along the way were picture postcard villages. We passed meandering streams strewn with boulders, beautiful forests and distant views of jagged peaks.
I was surprised and delighted that three lady passengers were accompanied by their dogs, neatly tucked away in large open handbags. The first dog was a white Chihuahua with black markings, the next was a black puppy Pug and the third was a Bichon Frise.
At around 6.30pm I became rather peckish so I headed to the dining car. To my amazement when I entered that carriage the woman with the Chihuahua was seated at a table drinking coffee and she was holding the dog close to the table so he could drink from a bowl of water placed on the table. How Parisienne I thought.
All in all, it was the most enjoyable train ride I have ever undertaken.
Doesn’t that sound like an incredible journey? Have you ever been lucky enough to visit that part of the world, and how did you find the experience? Share your thoughts in the comments.
If you would like to share your own story with the Over60 community, please email melody@oversixty.com.au.
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