By: Lucas Raven
The moment I set foot on the iconic train, I knew I was no longer in the present. The gleaming navy and gold carriages seemed to whisper tales of a bygone era, their elegance pulling me into a world where travel wasn’t simply a means to an end but a grand experience unto itself. This was not just a train ride; it was an unfolding story, a canvas for adventure, mystery, and indulgence.
Departing Paris: The First Glimpse of Glamour
It began in Paris, at the historic Gare de l’Est. The station buzzed with anticipation as passengers, myself among them, gathered for the journey of a lifetime. The train stood like a promise waiting to be kept, its art deco details shimmering under the station lights. Stepping aboard, I was greeted by a steward in immaculate uniform, his white gloves hinting at the attention to detail that awaited. My luggage followed closely behind, though I immediately regretted bringing more than I could reasonably need—how could I resist dressing the part for this grand adventure?
Inside my private cabin, polished mahogany walls reflected the soft glow of brass fixtures, and a plush banquette invited me to sink in and savor the moment. The view from my window revealed Paris slipping away, replaced by the rolling countryside of France. It felt as if I’d stepped into a novel, where every turn of the page brought a new setting and a new mood.
Onboard: A World Apart
From the moment the train pulled out of the station, the world beyond the glass seemed to blur. Inside, every detail had been crafted to perfection. The wood-paneled corridors creaked softly as I explored, revealing dining cars adorned with René Lalique glass panels and velvet-lined chairs that seemed designed for lingering. The air was thick with history, as if the walls themselves carried the echoes of countless travelers who’d passed through before me—artists, dignitaries, and dreamers alike.
Dinner that evening was a revelation. Each course seemed a testament to the art of indulgence. Foie gras melted like butter, lobster arrived in delicate sauces, and the desserts—impossibly intricate and almost too beautiful to eat—ended the meal on a sweet, unforgettable note. Every dish was paired with wine so exquisite it seemed to hold the essence of the regions we passed through.
Afterward, I found my way to the Bar Car 3674. A pianist played melodies that wrapped themselves around the low hum of conversation and the rhythmic clatter of the train. It was here, over a perfectly crafted martini, that I began to see my fellow passengers not as strangers but as characters in this shared odyssey. The atmosphere was charged with possibility, the kind of connection you only find when time feels suspended.
Landscapes and Legends
As dawn broke, I awoke to find Switzerland unfurling outside my window. Snow-dusted peaks rose like sentinels above glittering lakes, their stillness a counterpoint to the quiet power of the train beneath me. We paused briefly in Zurich, then Lugano, giving just enough time for a glimpse of each city before we plunged into the heart of the Alps.
The scenery was breathtaking, but it was the moments inside the train that captivated me most. Morning coffee delivered to my cabin felt like a ritual, the clink of porcelain signaling the start of another day in this otherworldly bubble. My steward, ever attentive, transformed my cabin into a sitting room by day and a sanctuary by night, the crisp sheets and downy pillows promising rest as the train carried us ever closer to Venice.
Timeless Connections
The journey was more than just luxury—it was human. In the dining car, I shared laughter with a retired professor who spoke of his many adventures, while at the bar I toasted with a couple celebrating their anniversary. These fleeting bonds felt significant, perhaps because the train’s atmosphere lent itself to openness and camaraderie. Each conversation was a thread in the tapestry of the journey, weaving together stories that would linger long after the train reached its destination.
Venice: A Grand Finale
By the time we approached Venice, the realization that this extraordinary chapter was drawing to a close filled me with both anticipation and melancholy. As the train glided over the lagoon, the iconic skyline of Venice appeared, shimmering in the afternoon light. Disembarking, I lingered a moment on the platform, reluctant to leave the world of the Orient Express behind.
But the beauty of such a journey is that it never truly ends. The memories—of dining under Lalique glass, of the pianist’s lilting tunes, of conversations sparked by the hum of wheels—are treasures to be carried forward. The Venice Simplon-Orient-Express isn’t just a trip; it’s an invitation to dream, to step into a world where time slows, and every moment feels timeless.
