By Adam Bloodworth
To Tuscany by train? It’s a doddle, finds Adam Bloodworth, who trains it from London with Byway Travel, train travel in Europe specialists
LONDON TO TUSCANY TRAIN: Destination: a friend’s wedding in Tuscany. How else other than to fly? Well, what about this: lunch in Paris, then dinner in Italy, all on the same day, and all reachable by train by Byway flight-free travel? People don’t think of going to northern Italy by rail, especially if they are in a rush, but it is totally possible.
HOW IT WORKED: I left London at 9am and was in Turin by 8pm. I’ll admit it: the five hours from Paris to Turn is an hour too long, but the payoff is the spectacular Alps, where even in summer there are snow-capped peaks to see from the train windows. The last two hours of the ride to Turin goes through the mountain range, skirting resorts like Courchevel. On the train, you learn that in the Alps, like anywhere else, the natural beauty is often framed by industry. Old mine shafts, abandoned machinery and scarred landscapes that were formerly quarries go past my window, offering a new perspective on an area promoted by ski resorts as pristine. In the Alps, water is ubiquitous, and seems to flow in every direction: vertically, from waterfalls, horizontally in rivers formed of meltwater in strong currents, and across the landscape in meandering streams.
Train travel in Europe: seeing the Alps differently en route to Turin
In Turin I wandered through some spectacular piazzas then collapsed into bed, gleeful in the knowledge I had reached the pizza and pasta capital without hauling myself through the clouds at the expense of the climate. It felt good. In fact, it felt more than good: it felt utterly freeing.
The next day I headed for the coast. The major train routes across Europe feel in many ways like the major train routes in Britain do, but get on a local service and you’ll meet a much better cross-section of Italian society. I boarded two local trains to the Italian Riviera to the beachtown of Alassio. There are a lot of tunnels, but at the end of each darkness I was rewarded with a splash of natural colour. Why aren’t buildings in Britain painted with such interesting washes of burnt orange? Why can’t our landscape be an ever-changing array of vineyards, mountains, hillsides and quaint little towns with rectangular churches? It’s not fair.
Alassio has an interesting British historical connection with train travel: it was here that wealthy Victorians spent their winters. Nowadays Alassio is a modest holidaying destination that suits every budget, although the Grand Hotel Alassio with its plumped beach loungers are a fitting tribute to the past. There’s a lovely beach that has the type of perfect curve you’d draw if you were drawing a picture of a beach, and a lovely but quite touristy strip of restaurants and bars that go on late. My hotel, the Albergo Fiorenza & Banksia Meublè, was the sort of three-star hotel that reminds you why three star hotels are often better than five-star ones. A warm greeting from a genuine local, old photos of Alassio through the years in the foyer, bedrooms far cosier than any famous interior designer could ever hope to achieve. Outside, bougainvillaea trees marked the route to the exit which led to the beach two minutes away. It’s also more affordable than on the French Riviera side.
The next morning, an early train whizzed past more revealing industrial ruins, through more trinkety little towns, and along wide open stretches of sea. Arriving in Pisa a few hours later I’d heard there was a world-famous attraction I should see. But I’d seen something way more exciting: the parts of France and Italy shut off from mainstream tourism. It’s a terrible cliché, but travel really is about the journey.
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