24/10 Train to Venice

Monday 24 October.

Up at 6.30, packed quickly and headed off over the road to the station. Hell we are good at this. We checked the Hostelbookers site and Google Maps last night so we know where to go in Venice.  Strangely they hadn’t decided which platform any of the trains should depart from so we all milled around until they made an announcement. We found our seats and stowed the baggage. Very comfortable. They have power points for laptops but no wifi. So now we just sit and wait to be whisked through the Alps, hopefully with some specky scenery. The sun came up at 8am and we broke out into rolling green open countryside within a few minutes. The bar is open (French drink more alcohol per head than any other nation).

Sooner than expected, we started weaving between hills and mountains. There was a very large and picturesque lake then our first stop at Chambery. There were small boats everywhere along the shore and nearby. It looked like one of those places that just invite ”Hey I could live there”. The scenery was consistently attractive.  The mountains got higher and more jagged and showed dustings of snow.

 After Modane, we entered a very long tunnel and emerged into Italy and falling snow. It was a non-event as far as formalities went – 3 armed Italian police filed through the train but seemed not to be checking anything. 

The French had confessed to being a few minutes late and kept us informed (in 3 languages) but we heard nothing from the Italians. I sought out the new conductor and asked. We had to converse in French and he said our connection would not wait for us in Milan but we could take a later train through to Venice. No real problem there.

There were two hysterically giggling girls behind us and it came as no surprise that they came from Victoria. They were going on to Rome. I wondered why they hadn’t stayed in Victoria with Brett and Geoff, whose SMS’s and photos kept them convulsed and preoccupied while we passed through the Alps. We passed through Turin about an hour before Milan as well as an Oulx and a Rho. This after the French names that tended to follow the pattern:  St Michel de Valloire etc. The French countryside had been consistently lush and green but as soon as we crossed the mountains it went brown. The farmers were assiduously harvesting grain crops.

The Italians have a definite style in regard to mountain roads. They select an altitude and build a road at that level. If there is a mountain in the way they tunnel through it. If the ground drops away, it’s viaduct time. We watched the road across the valley tracking dead level, as did our own path.

At Milan we found a rail officer who said there was no need to get the ticket stamped . . she would contact the Venice Conductor. We just needed to report to Platform 9. We had eaten our baguette rations by 11am and had faced the prospect of fasting until 5pm. Suddenly, we had the opportunity to grab HJs (Burger King) which went down stunningly well. Platform 9 was actually destined to take passengers to some lesser city but Platform 11 was quite happy to take us to Venice.  

Moments before the train left, a pair of suits came and shared our table. The French allocated the area between carriages for mobile phone calls but here we are effectively in Luigi’s office and privy to his endless telephone prattle. (The boring and censorious half of the editorial committee has deleted the amusing remark that was here)

The countryside continues to be flat and flatter. Farmland stretches for miles, but tending to be in little 2 acre lots. The tractors are small relatively simple devices – nothing like the massive specialised equipment they use in the Wheatbelt and the great North American prairies.

Venice hove into view at the end of a long but very pleasant and relaxing day. The ride across the long causeway out to the main island was very picturesque with lights reflecting off the water from all sides. There were several large cruise ships in port, excluding the Queen Victoria which we will be boarding in 3 days. The hostel was exactly where it is supposed to be and we took off for a short familiarisation stroll in the light rain before bed. Apparently the squares are flooding at the moment, as they tend to in autumn. St Mark’s is calf deep at high tide about 10am.