Every great European rail trip deserves an equally impressive opening ceremony, and you won’t find a better host venue than Searcys Champagne Bar inside St. Pancras International station in London.
Two glasses of sparkling wine at St. Pancras International railway station in London (Photo Credit: Scott Hartbeck)
It was there that, after months of dreaming and planning, my wife and I found ourselves with flutes of English sparkling wine in our hands and giddy with anticipation for the soon-to-be-classic stories and cherished travel memories to come. Suitcases and their owners streamed in front of us while trains departed behind.
We loaded up our first rail journey on the Eurail Rail Planner app: London to Antwerp on the Eurostar. Some purists might pine for the romance of the old paper Eurail passes, but I have to say the digital version has its own allure. When you activate a travel day and it asks you to confirm it (Are you sure you’re travelling today? Positive?), tapping “yes” is like a small hit of adrenaline as the adventure becomes real. Plus there’s a cool map feature, too.
Eurostar train at St. Pancras International (Photo Credit: Scott Hartbeck)
We were traveling with the Eurail Global Pass, which is like being handed the keys to the whole continent. And we intended to use them, from the cobbled streets of Belgium to the sun-soaked boulevards of the French Riviera. Our goal was clear: get to know a few of Europe’s lesser-talked-about big cities in late season (we departed in mid-October) and see a couple of cute small towns too, all while trying to take the most scenic routes we could.
Shortly, we were on our way to the platform and soon after, zipping past the chalky river valleys of southern England and dashing under the sea (is it just me, or is it still crazy that you can do that?), we emerged from the Channel Tunnel and the scenery was dominated by skinny town hall spires and thin poplar trees so popular in northern France and Belgium. All the while we enjoyed a meal and a can of British craft beer.
A quick switch in Brussels saw us arrive in Antwerp.
PHOTO: Antwerp Central Station in Belgium (Photo via Paul Hermans / Wikimedia Commons)
And what a way to kick off a trip as Antwerp Centraal station is easily on the shortlist of Europe’s most astonishing railway cathedrals. Made of marble and stone with a palatial domed ceiling and grand sweeping stairways, it will stop you near the tracks to snap a photo or two.
Dinner was a pot of mussels and frites washed down with a crisp, coriander-kissed witbier. You sort of have to when you’re in Belgium, right? The next morning began in the Grand Place, a historic town square framed by ornate guild houses. After soaking in the architecture, we ducked into Cafe Engel for a Bolleke beer; the amber and malty hometown brew.
From there, we walked past cranes and warehouses offering glimpses of Antwerp’s working port to the Red Star Line Museum, where the city’s role in North American emigration comes alive. If you or a client’s ancestors crossed the Atlantic, there’s a decent chance they left from here.
Glass of Bolleke beer in Antwerp (Photo Credit: Scott Hartbeck)
The evening was spent sampling more local ales and crossing the Scheldt River via the vintage and Wes Anderson-esque pedestrian passage and wooden elevator to admire the skyline. On our final morning, we wandered the romantic Vlaeykensgang alley, got up close to the Cathedral of Our Lady before the crowds came and picked up spiced almond-rich treats at Philip’s Biscuits (train snacks) and some chocolate at Chocolatier Del Rey (erm, more train snacks).
Eurail pass travel day two was activated and soon we were saying bonjour to Paris as our train glided into Gare du Nord and Sacre Coeur Basilica appeared on the hillside to the right. We wandered through the elegant symmetry of the Place des Vosges before hurrying toward the Pont Neuf for a Seine river cruise, only to arrive too late.
Paris at dusk (Photo Credit: Scott Hartbeck)
Oh well, when Paris gives you lemons you make some limonade and we did just that as we found a bench in the adjacent Square du Vert-Galant and spent some time listening to the sounds of a jazz band at the far end of the park drifting over the Seine while locals walked their dogs. European travel magic.
The next morning, after a dawn stop at a sensational boulangerie, Du Pain et des Idées, we made our way to Gare d’Austerlitz for a southbound train. Sure, we could’ve taken a fast train to Marseille in three hours but we wanted the scenic route, and boy was it ever.
The train that took the author to Cahors. (Photo Credit: Scott Hartbeck)
First off, the train was romantic as all get-out with vintage, art deco-inspired lighting fixtures and soft seats, and somewhere on the outskirts of Paris things started to look, well, different. This is one of the joys of rail travel, watching the landscapes change right before your eyes. Gradually, urban landscapes melted away to meandering rivers and rocky hillsides and things took on that “South of France” feel.
Stepping off the train in Cahors, our ‘rail layover’ between Paris and Marseille, we were greeted by streams of sunshine and our route into town took us past a leafy little park, its ground covered in pale pebbles and a court dedicated to petanque, the metal ball-clinking pastime of the South.
We arrived just in time for lunch but instead of going down rabbit holes of online reviews, we opted for what must be one of the finest European experiences: the al fresco picnic. Slices of ham, creamy goat cheese, a baguette and the best grapes I’ve ever eaten were devoured under a pergola.
That evening we took to the Lot River for a sunset stroll and caught it where the leaves were just beginning to turn with streaks of dark red, gold and rust reflecting in the water. Ahead rose the town’s star attraction, the Pont Valentre, its medieval towers mirroring perfectly in the still glass-like water below. We pinched ourselves as this was the exact type of scenario we were hoping for when we decided to stay in Cahors in autumn.
Pont Valentré Bridge in Cahors at sunset (Photo Credit: Scott Hartbeck)
The second section of our roundabout way to Marseille doubled as a geography class. Soon after leaving Cahors, the rolling hills of the Lot Valley were surrounded with low-hanging mist, no doubt enjoying its last moments before the sun emerged to burn it off. Then the landscape shifted with lush greens giving way to sun-bleached scrub, vineyards appearing in rows and those unmistakably southern rooftops arriving one wavy orange tile at a time. As the train passed Béziers, the hilltop Saint-Nazaire Cathedral came into full view and I leapt from my seat to get a pic. I was too late, but the memory will stay forever.
Soon, we were passing over the Rhône River, catching a glimpse of Beaucaire Castle standing sentry, then skirting the sea near Sète, crossing bridges with a bay full of boats to the left and sand dunes to the right.
Part of the magic of Eurail and European rail travel is the ability to be whisked between such starkly different destinations with such ease. One night you’re walking along a river in a quiet small town, the next you’re pulling into a lively metropolis like Marseille.
View of Marseille from the rail station (Photo Credit: Scott Hartbeck)
And let me tell you, arriving in Marseille by train is an experience in itself. Gare Saint-Charles station opens directly onto a grand terrace that overlooks the city with the city’s iconic basilica Notre-Dame de la Garde rising on its distant hill. The monumental staircase leading down into the city is lined with sculptures telling the story of Marseille and Provence, rewarding those who take the steps instead of a taxi or Metro.
Down at street level, we found an intoxicating mix: sunshine bouncing off pretty facades, sea air, buzzing restaurants, the aromas of markets and the kind of grand architecture that makes even lingering over an al fresco coffee feel like you’ve done some quality sightseeing.
Sunset in Marseille (Photo Credit: Scott Hartbeck)
We spent our time in Marseille wandering beautiful boulevards and admiring the ornate splendor of places like the Palais Longchamp and feasting on Marseillais specialties and food from around the world (the Tunisian fare at family-run Chez Yassine blew us away) and our evenings in pursuit of the perfect angle to watch the sun sink into the Mediterranean. Should it be Plage des Catalans with its small sweep of sand and lively locals or Vallon des Auffes, the tiny fishing port tucked into the cliffs? We hit them both up to compare and contrast and spent several happy hours with glasses of pastis in hand.
Old Town alleys in Menton (Photo Credit: Scott Hartbeck)
The train journey from Marseille to Menton was again full of pinch-me moments, as we scored a window seat on the top deck (yep, they do double-decker trains in France). First came sudden flashes of the Med’, a thin strip of blue out of the train window. Then the train swung inland to the rugged Provençal backcountry full of rusty rocks that looked more American Southwest than South of France, dotted with tall Mediterranean cypress trees. Moments later, the sea again, followed by pastel buildings clinging to cliffsides, brief glimpses of beaches and a roll call of Riviera royalty as we passed through places like Cannes, Monaco and Nice before finally making our way into Menton.
Menton was a revelation and another perfect layover that you should definitely build in for yourself or a client on any European rail trip itinerary. Laid-back and lightly dusted with Riviera glamour, Menton is more inviting than exclusive. We swam in the sea, lounged on the pebble beach and admired the lemon-yellow facade of the Basilique Saint-Michel Archangel glowing above the old town. Menton is renowned for its lemons so perhaps this isn’t a coincidence.
Author savors sunset in Menton (Photo Credit: Scott Hartbeck)
But the best moment was another picnic at sunset, this time by the sea and complete with a small bottle of local rosé wine and the sun sinking behind the distant mountains, turning the whole sky rose-pink. Later, we feasted on gelato (you can see Italy across the bay) and wandered the old lanes, getting happily lost and falling a little more in love with Menton along the way.
Next, our route took us into Italy, around the Ligurian coastline to cut inland toward Genoa, climbing gently into the hills and down into the broad Piedmont plain, and soon we rolled into Turin’s stately, glass-roofed Porta Nuova station.
We made a beeline into the heart of the city, where arcaded boulevards lead to Turin’s grand showpiece, Piazza Castello, a “pinch me, I’m in Italy!” kind of space framed by palatial facades, porticoes and grand cafes pouring vermouth.
Neon Martini sign in Turin, Italy (Photo Credit: Scott Hartbeck)
Here, we sipped bicerin, the city’s signature drink of layered espresso, chocolate and cream, explored the city on foot and for lunch one afternoon had pasta adorned with local truffles from the surrounding Piedmont hills, a true bucket-list moment for any food lover.
We left Turin before sunrise, and soon found ourselves gliding into an unexpected alpine scene. Just beyond the city limits, the landscape was dominated by jagged peaks dusted with fresh snow and we took in the scenes in the dining car with a coffee in hand. I guess I should have known we’d see these peaks based on the route but it hadn’t crossed my mind. Oh well, there’s nothing better than a pleasant surprise.
The mountains shrank to bunny hills, the train skirted pretty Lac du Bourget (another surprise) and before long we were back in Paris, ready to close the loop of our itinerary and end our adventure in style.
This time, we’d booked ahead for the evening Seine cruise we’d missed on our first pass through the city and the river became the venue for our closing ceremony. I don’t care how many times you’ve seen it before, seeing the Eiffel Tower bust out its evening show of sparkling lights still delivers goosebumps.
Map of the author’s journey on the Eurail Rail Planner app (Photo Credit: Scott Hartbeck)
The next morning, as we loaded up a travel day on our Eurail passes for the last time and made our way toward Gare du Nord for the train back to England, something became clear: the destinations were superb but it was the travelling by rail itself that had become the real highlight of the trip.
It’s the games of checkers and hangman played as you speed down the tracks. It’s the hilltop castles glimpsed from the window that prompt you to imagine the lives once lived inside. It’s becoming obsessed with the catchy French railway jingle that plays over the speakers at each station. It’s the train snacks. It’s the tiny slices of Europe you’d never catch from a plane: couples strolling hand in hand on a beach, street art, laundry flapping from clotheslines.
These flashes of Europe stay with you long after the last train pulls into the station and the trip ends. Well, those and a refrigerator full of magnets.
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