Next leg. The Trenhotel. Train Hotel.Overland. Paris to Barcelona.
Paris to Barcelona.
Crossed to Paris Austerlitz from Gare Du Nord and there we were. En France. Hot sunny. And as usual gagging on a drink and something to eat.
Shoved our stuff in left luggage and luck found us in a wee restaurant right next to the Sorbonne where none of us studied or were likely to know the significance of if it hadn’t been for Peter Sarstedt song all those years ago …Where do you go to my lovely….la la la la la la la….So……Pastis and veal stew Magnifiquie – . C’est la vie or veal as it turned out which was delicious.
Honed and ready for the train we had read google and several people had said ‘Its not the Orient Express’
Well that is a fact.
It is an ancient rusty sort of contraption. We boarded at 10,30pm and were told to go the restaurant car immediately where we were given a strange meal of nodules, dry things and Vino Sol wine – we were truly on our way now.
We put off going to bed for as long as we could but we were tired. Tres fatigue.
Here’s a vid to tell the story – oh and check out the train guard – a very handsome chap who loved having his photo taken but insisted in seeing it to check if he looked good enough. If they all looked like this charming man then cars would be annulled and we would all be letting the train take the strain. So here we are……
Arriving in Barcelona the next morning was a joy as we ate breakfast looking out over the Spanish countryside. The comfort of the beds felt a little like being dragged over the tracks in a sack but hey ho we are intrepid travellers and that’s the sort of thing you have to accept. Especially when you have no choice.
