We were sad to leave Cefalu behind. The weather hadn’t been great but we enjoyed walking along the coast watching the waves crash on the beach. One thing of note, but not mentioned in the Guardian’s recent piece on Cefalu, is the illuminated rock walk along the coast - not for the faint-hearted!
Coastal scene - Cefalu
Trenitalia trundled us back out of Sicily and back up the coast to Salerno, not far from Naples and the gateway for the Amalfi coast, which we didn’t visit on this trip. Salerno however turned out out be another historic and attractive town. Our next train took us to Rome where it was shame not to leave the station but we walked a fair way to reach the platform for the train to Grosecco, a lesser-known town which we had chosen for our next stop to break the journey up. Rain had set in and the owner of our b&b kindly collected us at the station, although we were only one block’s walk away. As with everywhere in Italy finding aperitivos, dinner and a supermarket for the next day’s provisions wasn’t a problem.
Classic Trenitalia railcar at Grosecco.
Off again the next day, with our train delayed following the torrential rain the previous day, and up to Genoa, with the train making its way up the coast, much of it in tunnels but occasionally emerging to provide stunning views of the Ligurian coast.
We’d thought of Genoa as an industrial city that might not occupy much of our time but it turned out to be fascinating, one of the major ports of Italy with an incredible history. The Maritime museum is excellent. Our bnb gave us stunning views over the city.
Street Scene Genoa
Leaving Genoa two nights later, our train was delayed and we were worried we might not make out connections to Arles in France. However, at Ventimiglia our packed SNCF train was waiting - we managed to get seats - and arrived in Marseille in time for the service to Arles. On these trips to Europe we always try to fit in a couple of days in France as a sort of decompression and Arles did not disappoint. This Provencale town is renowned for its art - Van Gogh and Picasso came here - and the galleries did not disappoint. We hired bikes and headed into the Camargue and a rainy Sunday saw us trawling round town until we found somewhere great for a large lunch and beers.
View from the train - Nice to Marseilles
Time for our last stopover in Marseille. We were slightly trepidatory about this since it had a reputation as a bit of rough town and it was certainly edgy although the area around the old docks is scenic and safe. One thing that shocked us was seeing the police attending a homeless person who had died on the street overnight. While we bemoan the plight of Britain’s homeless let’s not forget that these problems exist worldwide.
Marseille Harbour
Our next train took us from Marseilles to Paris - 800 kms covered in 3.5 hours. We travelled in a doubled-up duplex TGV - that’s 900 people transported across France in super-quick comfort - beats flying every time. With some spare time we visited Le Train Bleu in the Gare De Lyon - an excellent but slightly expensive meal, you pay for the surroundings.
A very long train!
After such a sumptuous experience it’s a shock to be back on the Paris Metro.Inequality and homelessness definitely exists in Paris and the place to see it is on and around the Metro.With time to spare we took the long way round via Nation, the Paris version of the Circle line - it’s less crowded than the quicker RER, which the French built while trudging from one rail terminus to another via the Underground was still the norm in London. Now the French are forging ahead with Grand Paris Express expanding the Metro out into the banlieues with the first line ready for the Olympics.
Getting off at La Chapelle for Gare Du Nord, however, is a chastening experience. There is a walkway through to Gare du Nord but it is not an journey I would care to repeat.
One of the joys of Brexit, of course is that you now have to go through three passport checks on your way through the terminal - a French e-terminal, then a physical one where they stamp your passport (making sure you haven’t overstayed your welcome) followed by the British one. All this of course takes up space in the already cramped terminal. At least when you get to your destination you just walk down the platform and straight into the main station. Our clunky old diesel train, a far cry from the sleek expresses of France and Italy chuntered off and got us to Sheffield eventually, where the sun had started to peek out but we have still had a wait a few weeks for signs of Spring.
Glad you're back safely. Having read this, we'll have nothing to talk about when we next meet up!
Welcome home Simon! Thank you for sharing this journey with your readers 😊.
It’s so interesting to read about the similarities and differences when you travel in mainland Europe (yes, not “go to Europe” - we are already in Europe!!). There’s so much you miss by going in a flippin’ aeroplane, and I don’t feel that flying tourists really understand that they’re elsewhere.
I’m looking forward to a train ride on the TGV down to Spain later in the year, even though participants in the singing course I’m on are informed of flights but not train travel 🫤. The journey should be part of the holiday.
Looking forward to your next post!