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by train
Skip the plane and take the train from London to Venice instead cross mountain ranges and
borders, stopping to stretch your legs in some of Europes most beautiful cities on the way
WORDS OLIVER SMITH
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DAY 1
LONDONPARIS
One summer morning in 1994, I did
something historic. Aged seven, carrying a
Game Boy and a headful of nits, I travelled
through the Channel Tunnel on a family
holiday to France. The tunnel had opened
just two weeks previously, and much of my
journey was spent waiting for the ceiling to
crack, at which point I would reach for my
inflatable armbands as cod and eels peered
through the window.
It wasnt long before we disembarked at
Pariss Gare du Nord station at the end of a
seminal journey. We were among the first
people since Stone Age hunter-gatherers to
travel from England to France without
leaving terra firma; they had walked the
Channel before it filled up with saltwater,
some 9,000 years earlier.
Boarding a Eurostar service one summers
morning 20 years later, its clear that this
journey is no longer quite so extraordinary.
Commuting businessmen and French
tourists carrying Beefeater teddies shuffle
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DAY 2
PARISZRICH
The British invented railways, but the
French perfected them: they made them
faster, more glamorous and with better
sandwiches. The case in point is Le Train
Bleu in Gare de Lyon, the grandest station
caf in the world, and the place to stop for
October 2015 Lonely Planet Traveller
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STRAP
DAY 3
ZRICHTIRANO
Look at the list of Unesco World Heritage
sites and there in amongst Machu Picchu,
the Pyramids of Giza, the Taj Mahal and
other triumphs of civilisation youll find
a small Swiss railway. The Bernina Line is
a railway that can convert anyone into a
militant trainspotter: travelling through
October 2015 Lonely Planet Traveller
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LO N D O N T O V E N I C E B Y T R A I N
DAY 4
TIRANOMILAN
One of the great pleasures of crossing
Europe by rail is listening to automated
announcements. On French TGVs, the tone
is brisk and cheery. On Swiss trains the
announcer is serious certain stops
(Kloten; Spinas; Rabius-Surrein) are
announced with the solemnity of a doctor
breaking bad news. But in Italy, each stop
sounds rhapsodic and poetic. Even an
announcement to stand behind the yellow
line on the platform is spoken like it might
be a stanza from Dante.
From Tirano, I board an ancient local train
to Milan the carriages covered in graffiti
and gasping for oil, make loud creaking
noises that sound possibly like the death
throes of a T-Rex. Outside the window,
DAY 5
MILANVENICE
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