The Venice Simplon-Orient-Express now travels from Rome to Paris
Stazione Tiburtina, Rome. Here I am, ready to discover the new Grand Tour from Rome to Paris launched by Venice Simplon-Orient Express, a homage to the great voyages of the Golden Age of travel. The same carriages where Graham Greene set his Stamboul Train, and Agatha Christie imagined Murder on the Orient Express. I ask myself, ‘What am I going to do for the next 24 hours?’
Here's how I spent my time.
Maddalena FossatiFirst up: acclimatise. Adjust to the slow, confined surroundings. There is so much beauty in the Art Deco carriages. Then, onto exploring the cabin and uncovering its secrets (the basin is enclosed in a walnut briar inlaid cabinet).
I suggest hanging your evening gowns – you need at least two, one for the afternoon and one for the evening – on the antique, slightly délabré, velvet hangers. Feel free to bring along all your smartest and shiniest belongings. Crystals and diamonds would make Christie proud.
Maddalena FossatiA knock on my cabin door – it’s Eleonora, who oversees this carriage. She’s holding a bottle of Champagne and a Baccarat glass in her white-gloved hands. The team only recently started hiring women for this job. She is Italian, like myself and many of the onboard staff (we happen to be good at this hospitality business).
Maddalena FossatiIn the meantime, the train sets off. The images of Lazio’s countryside flash by; the rural environs of the Eternal City. The first snack arrives and, like all the food on board, it’s by Jean Imbert, the chef who has ushered a new era for gastronomy on these rails with his soothing cuisine, Haute and comforting at the same time. On the tray lay two pats of butter, unsalted and salted, clearly French like Monsieur himself, a brioche bun and green tea.
Maddalena FossatiYou need a real paper book. No Kindle or other electronics. Although don’t fret, you can charge your phone (a recent addition just like air conditioning). The rhythmic movement of the train makes everything unhurried. For a very long moment, we even lose signal.
The rattling noises of the train cover up the voices and you feel you might be alone on board. They quell all other sounds. I imagine what it would have been like to travel with the aesthetic genius that was Calouste Gulbenkian and talk about visions, horizons, and the beauty we ought to provide for humankind. The landscape – Lazio, then Tuscany, hills and cypresses – unfolds framed by the windows. The first stop is Florence and the views from Room with a View pass by like moving paintings.
Maddalena FossatiBy 7pm, you need to be ready for supper. It’s not the Met Gala, but matching the surroundings is important. No wide, flowing clothes or you might get stuck between carriages, despite the plush velvet linings of these soft passages. Floor-length gowns are very much encouraged.
Maddalena FossatiAt the bar, everything changes, as though you’re stepping inside a speakeasy. In the bar carriage, passengers are wearing white tuxedos and shimmering evening gowns. Tiny boxes of caviar with miniature mother-of-pearl scoops accompany flutes of Champagne. Martinis clink on tables and ice cubes rattle in the barman’s bucket. I wonder whether Graham Greene was here with Vivien, his wife, or with his beloved Yvonne? I would like to travel so often I can answer the bartender’s ‘What would you like, Madame?’ with ‘the usual.’ I stick to Champagne.
Maddalena FossatiDing dong, ‘dinner is served’ chimes a voice in English and French. A voice straight from one of Christie's novels announces the next supper shift. There are three restaurants – L’Oriental, Etoile du Nord and Cote d’Azur – each with their own different style, each one beautiful, where Monsieur Imbert has really left his mark from carpets to tableware.
Maddalena FossatiI am seated at the Cote d’Azur. Cooking in such confined spaces is not easy, but the chef pulls it off beautifully. I order lobster with avocado and burrata, turbot with hollandaise sauce, cheese plateau, tiramisu soufflé.
Maddalena FossatiTime goes by, and the train journeys on. A whistle and we are in Milan. From the window I see other passengers taking pictures with their phones, trying to capture this marvel of a train, brimming full of history and stories. Then we travel on to Paris. Tomorrow, I will have breakfast in the French countryside.