The Orient Express

The Journey

I used to think of the Orient Express as a train.  As it turns out, it is a lot more than that.  The Orient Express is a journey—from London to Venice in our case—that not only takes you to your destination, it also takes you back in time nearly one hundred years to the golden age of rail travel.  As such, it is also a production.  Without doubt, the trains (there are two of them) are both central characters’ and the stage for the two-day show, but without the rest of the cast—liveried stewards, unbelievably attentive waiters and staff—the experience would fall short.  Even the passengers play a significant role and are asked to dress the part.  There certainly is more to it than just riding on an old train.  This did not really sink in for me until we were crossing the lagoon, about to arrive in Venice.  We noticed that most passengers on our journey were British, with a reasonable contingent of Americans and a few Australians.  We assumed—incorrectly, we learned from our steward, Paul—that the train was primarily carrying Brits because it was going from London to Venice, and that it would soon be full of Italians taking the return trip to London.  “Italians never take this train,” Paul informed us.  “It is not part of their culture.”  At the moment, I was surprised at this seemingly small piece of trivia.  It took a few days of reflection, however, before grasping the true meaning of his words. The Orient Express represents what was once an impossible journey, made only by intrepid explorers before the advent of rail travel.  Jules Verne’s Philias Fogg captured our imagination when he made an impossible journey possible with the advent of mechanized travel.  Once perfected with all the luxuries the “modern”, industrialized world offered one hundred years ago, the Orient Express became a glamorous setting for Agatha Christie’s Murder and Ian Fleming’s spy.  My first exposure to this journey was watching Sean Connery duel with his Soviet counterparts in From Russia with Love.  A generation later, my daughter is just as intrigued thanks to the most recent incarnation of Murder on the Orient Express.  This journey is part of our culture.

Departing London’s Victoria Station

This trip was conceived almost exactly one year ago on our anniversary.  We were enjoying Washington’s wine country—not a bad way to spend an anniversary—but the occasion of our 24^th got me thinking about the next year.  How to spend our 25^th?  Certainly, a landmark accomplishment, definitely a reason to celebrate.  Over dinner, Stacy and I discussed places we would like to go and things we would like to do.  When I mentioned the Orient Express, Stacy jumped at the idea.  After dinner, we found Belmond’s website, read about the journey and checked the schedule.  On June 10, 2019, the Orient Express arrived in Venice from London.  Done!

Three-hundred-sixty-four days later, we left the Goring Hotel for the short walk to London’s Victoria Station.  Signs led us to the far left of the station where we checked in at special departure lounge.  A steady stream of well-dressed people with overnight bags leading to the lounge was just as telling as the signs.  Our first train, A British Pullman, arrived in Victoria Station.  Each restored carriage was different and had its own history.  Ours was named Cygnus and was notable for being part of Winston Churchill’s funeral train.  We enjoyed a lovely Bellini brunch while traveling across the Kent countryside to Folkstone, where we disembarked to the sound of a Dixieland band playing at the station.

Here, we boarded a bus for the 15-minute journey to the Eurotunnel.  This part of the journey was glossed over in the brochures.  It certainly isn’t glamorous but watching our bus driver maneuver onto a freight train was fascinating none-the-less.  We crossed under the English Channel in about twenty minutes.  During that time it was possible to exit the bus and wander freely inside an enormous freight train taking large trucks and buses to France.  Arriving in Calais, our bus drove to the Orient Express.

The Orient Express

Finally, the Orient Express.  In Calais, all of the uniformed staff were lined up in front of the storied carriages, complete with a red carpet.  Again, we had to locate our specific car as they are all unique.  The train was organized with the bar car and three restaurant cars in the middle, with sleeping carriages on either side.  At our carriage, we met our steward, Paul, who took great care of us throughout the journey.

He introduced us to the workings of our small compartment and started our journey with a glass of champagne.  We had time to walk half of the train and see the bar and dining cars while they were still empty.  Dinner was a formal affair, with assigned seating at one of two sittings in one of the three restaurant cars.

The dining staff was outstanding also.  They were very friendly, exceedingly professional, and unbelievably attentive.  We had the opportunity to dine in all three dining cars which were quite different.  The bar car (3674) was probably the highlight, though.  Impeccably designed in blue with a uniformed bartender, waiters, and pianist playing a grand piano, it is understandably hard to secure a seat.  We chose the late seating for dinner and strategically arrived at the bar when most of the other passengers were dining.  By this time, all of the passengers were dressed for dinner and we had the opportunity to mingle over cocktails in our evening attire (Thanks for dressing us, Amanda!).  Next, a four-course dinner in one of the dining cars.  The food was fantastic, and we were thoughtfully served a special cake for our 25^th anniversary which we shared with another couple we were dining with.

When we retired to our compartment, it had been transformed from daytime couch to bunk beds for the night.  We woke to the spectacular scenery of the Swiss Alps and spent the morning enjoying the

optional Celebration Breakfast in one of the dining cars with the lakes and mountains of Switzerland to enjoy.  Afternoon tea in the Italian countryside, and all too soon we were crossing the causeway to Venice.