It’s 2.30pm on a spring afternoon in Paris, the sun bathing the streets in golden light that makes it easy to fall in love with the French capital all over again. Or maybe that’s just how I feel – because on this particular Sunday in May, I’m winding my way to Gare d'Austerlitz to take a trip I’ve been dreaming about since I became a travel journalist. I’m here to board the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express, A Belmond Train.
Arriving at the station feels surreal. Perhaps partly because Gare d'Austerlitz is undergoing major renovations, and the platforms are obscured from view by huge screens, prolonging that feeling that This Isn’t Really Happening. I’m travelling with my mum, and we hover outside, excited and nervous in equal measure. As we approach our platform, we get our first glimpse of the famous navy-blue carriages that make up the VSOE, polished to gleaming, seeming to twinkle to welcome us. I hear a trumpeter before I see him. A friendly porter in his smart blue suit and hat waves us in the direction of the check-in desk, whisking our luggage from our hands. “How will he know where to take it?” my mum says out of the corner of her mouth. “Magic,” I reply.
We’re here, in this very glamorous, very surreal fever-dream, to take VSOE's brand new journey connecting Paris, where the train departs, to Tuscany, where guests round off their travels with two nights at Castello di Casole, Belmond’s sprawling farm estate. One night onboard the train’s historic carriages is spent whizzing through France, the Swiss Alps and into Italy to disembark in Florence, followed by two nights at Castello di Casole via an afternoon excursion to Siena. This is exactly what went down during our journey – from boarding the world’s most famous train to stargazing in Tuscany in the final hours of our trip.
Day One
2.30pm
As the band play a merry ditty on the platform at Gare d'Austerlitz, we’re handed our tickets and greeted by George, our steward. He shows us to our cabin – all glossy, nutty wood and rich patterned fabrics on the supremely comfortable couchettes. A bottle of Champagne on ice awaits us. “I’ll be back to show you around your new home,” George promises. In his absence, we poke around the cabin – a bijou, cleverly-designed space that acts as a sitting room by day, with a fold-out table, stool, and washbasin in the cupboard, and a bedroom by night when the couchettes are turned into bunk beds. Despite being booked into one historic cabin (“you’re top bunk,” my mum had instructed me before we arrived), we’ve been assigned cabins 1 and 2, which connect and provide bags of space.
3pm
As the train eases away from the platform with a sputter, George returns to open our Champagne with an artful pop and give us the lay of the land. The well-stocked toiletries are ours to use or keep (there’s no shower for those staying in the historic cabins, so it’s a flannel and soap job while on board), and he points out power points (European, but he has adapters if we need them) and USB ports, as well as showing us how to open the windows so we can let some fresh air in. As we snack on tiny salmon blinis and pretty pistachio petit fours, he offers tea or coffee and chats warmly about the route we’re about to take. We’re offered one of two slots for supper (we’ll have our evening meal and lunch tomorrow on board, and staff make sure you experience two of the three distinct dining cars), and then encouraged to relax or explore. “The train is yours to go where you please,” George tells us. So we do.
4pm
Walking through a moving train takes some getting used to. The gentle sway knocks us off balance at first, and as we skirt through the long carriages, we’re greeted at every turn by dapper stewards in their finery who open doors for us and ask us how our day is going. Very well, thank you. We hit the all-blue bar car, 3674, first. Barmen in white coats shake Martinis while a pianist tinkles the ivories in the corner, and guests are already settling into banquette seating as we whip through the French countryside away from Paris.
6pm
Back to our cabin, Champagne polished off, and time to dress for dinner. Supper onboard is a strictly white tablecloth affair – an announcement over the tannoy reminds everyone that formal attire is required. We freshen up at our basins and dutifully pull on black-tie worthy outfits before heading back to 3674 for an aperitivo.
6.30pm
Wine and Champagne while on board are included, but cocktails and other drinks are optional extras. I order a Negroni, while my mum is far more sensible and opts for a non-alcoholic rosé spritz. As we sip our drinks, a barman offers to take our picture on a Polaroid kept handy on the piano – it’s sweet touches like this – staff acknowledging that every guest on board is on a giddy, once-in-a-lifetime journey – that take service from meticulous to memorable.
7.30pm
We’re dining at Côte d’Azur this evening. As we’re shown to our table, more Champagne arrives in a flash, along with menus. Our choice of lamb or fish will follow starters of asparagus, and our sommelier cheerfully recommends a bottle of wine. “If you don’t like it, we’ll change it,” he assures as he convinces us to try an Italian Sauvignon Blanc that we end up loving. The band that played us onto the train appears out of thin air to sing as we tuck in – some passengers (including my mum) join in. A choice of French cheeses from an enormous cheese board nearly sends me into a nirvanic food coma, but we find room for our chocolate-y pudding.
10.30pm
Exhausted, full and happy, we teeter back to 3674 for a nightcap. We’re among the first to return for post-supper drinks, so we nab a prime spot by the piano as the live music starts up again and sip on digestifs. Before long, lulled by the gentle rocking of the train and the darkness that’s fallen outside, we call it a night and head to our cabins. They’ve been made up into cosy bedrooms by George in our absence, with branded dressing gowns and slippers, cute eye masks and a cosy duvet awaiting our return.
Day Two
6am
I sleep like a baby – something about the faint chuntering of the train as it continues to roll through the night and the crisp mountain air in my room from the open window. At 6am, I’m awoken – not by any sudden movements or sounds, but by my mum, who has been awake for an hour and is desperate for me not to miss the views. I’m sleepy, but it’s justified – overnight we’ve rolled into Switzerland, and as the sky turns pink and then blue, the mountainscapes of the Swiss Alps roll silently past our window. It’s an awe-inspiring way to wake up, and we sit for hours staring longingly at the views.
8.30am
After vacating our cabin to allow George to flip our cabins from bedrooms to sitting rooms once again, we order breakfast. He brings a tray of French pastries, fruit, bread and butter, pouring steaming hot coffee and tea and we eat as the train snakes past Swiss lakes.
12.30pm
Today, we’re dining at L’Oriental – being able to eat in different restaurants while onboard means there’s always something new to experience, and it stops us from ever getting cabin fever. L’Oriental is my favourite of the three dining cars – the amber yellows seem to glow in the midday sunshine.
3pm
After some downtime, and with our suitcases packed and handed off to George, we soak up the final few moments in our cabin. Before we know it, the train is pulling into Florence, and we’re disembarking – the ground still seeming to rock beneath our feet.
A note: at this point of the journey, guests are whisked into Siena, about an hour’s drive from Florence, for a private tour of the historic city and cocktail hour in a historic palazzo. We skipped this due to a badly-timed illness, but heard nothing but positive things from fellow guests who did get to experience it.
5.30pm
Graciously swept into a car to deposit us at Castello di Casole ahead of schedule, we wind through the Tuscan countryside, climbing into the hills until we reach the hotel. The tree-lined driveway has us peering eagerly out of our windows to see more. Casole is one of the most storied properties in Italy. The castle was built in the 10th century, with rooms tucked into its towers overlooking a showstopping courtyard. From every angle, we ooh and aah at the widescreen views of the landscape.
Day Three
6am
Another day, another 6am wake-up call from my mother, who has spotted another view that simply can’t be missed. From our top-floor room – a sweeping space with stone walls and historical features – we can peep over the estate and across the surrounding countryside, where mist rolls off the hills as the sun rises.
8.30am
Breakfast in one of the hotel’s two restaurants, Tosca – meat and cheeses, cold-pressed juices, home-baked focaccia, Italian pastries, tea served in an enormous, branded teapot we want to sneak into our suitcases – is followed by a snoop around the grounds. We spy the rose-adorned terrace, the jaw-dropping infinity pool which seems to roll straight into the hills, the ancient amphitheatre and the bar. Making a mental note to return to each of these later, we grab a map of the estate from the concierge and set about exploring a little further afield.
10.30am
In hindsight, setting off on a 5km, very hilly walk through the estate was potentially a bold move, considering a storm had made the track muddy. Still, we set off armed with directions, our cameras and our raincoats The beautiful estate is made up of olive groves, vineyards, wild woodland, vegetable gardens and more, and we stomp up and down gravel paths. You can also explore by electric bike, if that’s more your speed – or spend days doing yoga classes, cooking demonstrations or guided tours of the estate.
12.30pm
Never far from our next meal on this trip, lunch at Casole is a ‘sagra’ style affair – mini festivals which celebrate regional dishes. We fill plates with barbecued meat (the smell of the coals has been tempting us for hours), fried pizzettes and salad, and settle into a long, lazy lunch as a live band plays.
2.30pm
Casole is a remote resort – that’s part of its beauty, sequestered up on the hills, secluded in its own misty privacy. We spend the afternoon swimming in the heated pool, which gazes out across the hills. The landscape is smudgy and hazy, seeming to me to have been crafted from oil paints.
5pm
I don’t think I’ve indulged enough, so I slip to the Essere spa. It’s a cossetting, spiritual space set in the castle’s old wine cellars. Not for the first time since we arrived, I’m struck by the history of the estate – the grounds here have been farmed since the Bronze Age.
7.30pm
Cocktails at Bar Visconti use ingredients from the grounds, and are followed by supper in Emporio del Castello, Casole’s more casual, family-style restaurant, where we eat boar ragout pasta and chunky seabass and tiramisu from red-tablecloth tables in a cosy corner.
9.30pm
After wrapping up warm, we head outside to meet expert astronomers. The skies here are recognised as one of Italy’s best spots for stargazing – the inky night sky ahead seems dusted with stars, which we’re shown through a telescope as we spot Jupiter, Mars and the North Star. I tilt my head back and stare at the Big Dipper (or the rather more romantic-sounding Orsa Maggiore in Italian). Eagerly clambering aboard the Orient Express two days earlier feels like another world – in just over 48 hours, we’ve had more once-in-a-lifetime experiences than I can count on my fingers. I smile, and count my lucky stars.