Paris to Milan

Our alarm woke us at 7.00 this morning. Hopefully enough time to get us out of our apartment and transported to the Gare de Lyon railway station in time for our 10.40 departure.

Packed up, put out the rubbish, turned on the dishwasher (something our predecessor didn't do), dropped the used linen in front of the bathroom door. All the things we were instructed to do in the guidelines provided by the landlord. Descended to the ground floor separately because the little lift wouldn't hold both of us and our luggage.

Only a short wait until a taxi came along and took us to the station. Saw new sights from the taxi making the temptation to return to Paris even more appealing.

Plenty of time to go to the ticket office and exchange the print-out for proper tickets. Enquire as to platform and carriage number, get something for lunch because we are going to be on the train until almost 6.00 this evening.

One happy coincidence had me at the enquiry counter just as an announcement was made. In France the announcements are only broadcast in French, unlike Holland and Belgium where they are broadcast in often three languages including English. So I was able to ask the helpful young lady if the announcement advised passengers that we could board the train. She said “yes”, we could board the train now, some 20 minutes before departure.

And just as well because we could almost have had another misadventure on our trip to Milan.

We boarded our carriage (No. 2) and found our seats but there were already occupied. We showed the folk sitting in our seats our tickets and they explained that we were actually in carriage 12. (The light behind the digit 1 had gone out.) So we apologised and hastily removed our suitcases from the luggage compartment and got off the train.

Now it transpired that the departing train was actually two trains because at some point along the way the trains split up and go in different directions. We had to go all the way to the front train and find our carriage there. Eventually we found the correct carriage and seats, stored the luggage and made ourselves comfortable in our designated seats.

No notices on the platform to explain to non-French speaking travellers about all these unusual arrangements. A big sigh of relief that there had been people sitting in those first seats because we could have found ourselves on a mystery holiday and nowhere near Milan at the end of the day.

As we glide out of the city and into the countryside the landscape is still shrouded in low cloud/haze which limits the views from our carriage windows. The electricity pylons look like ghostly skeletons marching across the flat open landscape. No one takes the pair of seats in front of us so Johnny moves forward one row and we spread out a little.

Quite soon we begin to pass through rolling hills, small villages and pastures. There doesn't seem to be a great variety of animals, just Charolais cattle.

Around midday some breaks appeared in the cloud and the sun shone through. How pretty the forested autumnal hillsides look under the golden glow. Unfortunately, it didn't last long and we're once again shrouded in misty low cloud. The train begins to travel more slowly as we wind around hilly terrain dotted with little villages, bridges and pass through the occasional tunnel. We must be climbing because my ears are popping. Can't tell because we are now in another longer tunnel. We are still one long train because I have caught glimpses of the double decker as we have rounded the bends.

Emerge from the tunnel into a larger town around 1.40 pm, Chambéry Chelles Les Eaux. Stop here for about 15 minutes.

The cloud is lifting as we depart Chambéry to reveal that we are now in a mountainous region of France. We have lost the “other” train. The steep, stony, south facing hillsides are planted in vines and it seems to be a quite populated area. Two girls in a field trying to catch their ponies who are not keen on the idea and a lone para-glider floating down into the valley.

During the afternoon the towns and villages become more frequent. Saint Jean du Maurienne which lies half way between Albertville and Grenoble. Modane where several armed gendarmes go through the carriages. Probably Border Police.

Into a quite mountainous region now and climbing. Snow dusting the mountain tops. Large town in valley below, probably Modane. Enter a tunnel and emerge about 15 minutes later in Italy. Bardonecchia, Oulx – Cesana, Claviere – Sestriere.

Never out of sight of civilisation or industry of some description or another. Meana, Bussoleno.

We seem to be out of the mountains now as train has picked up speed and travelling quickly through towns and villages. Mostly, so fast that I can't even read the names of the places we pass. Rosta, Alpignano.

Hurtling along without slowing for passing towns. Torino | Porta Susa. Chivasso.

Out onto flat plains again and travelling at speed. Not the speeding bullet but pretty quick.

Santhia, in Piedmont. Cropping, waterlogged rice fields. Vercelli, Novara and finally Milano.

Plenty of taxis outside the railway station but it is dead on 6.00 pm and the traffic is heavy. The driver is happy to give us useful local information and when we arrive at out apartment, he kindly phones the landlord to come and let us in.

Simone arrives a few minutes later and is very welcoming. He carries our two largest suitcases up three flights of stairs to our lovely apartment. It's the one above the French doors opening onto the balcony. Nice and clean. Well equipped. After Paris we feel as if we are enjoying luxury again.