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A Pre Brexit European TourA Pre Brexit European Tour
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  • Robert FyfeA Pre Brexit European Tour
    Day 1

    A Night in the Cells!

    June 4, 2018 in England ⋅ ⛅ 17 °C

    Following last year’s marathon Trans Siberian / Japan railway journey, I thought I would follow up this year with a rail tour of Europe, before Brexit kicks in, with its threat of border controls, visas and queues for non Europeans. I have always longed to go Inter Railing, but it was for years seen as the province of the under 26s. Now there are Inter Rail passes for adults and even seniors. I opted for the 4 week pass covering (most of) Europe from the UK all the way to Turkey, and decided to splash out on a 1st Class pass. Well, if you can’t treat yourself when you retire, when can you?

    Although the Inter Rail pass covers you for unlimited travel in most countries, it only allows one outward and one inward journey in your home country. So, on Monday 4 June 2018, following a 10 minute trip on the Cathcart Circle from Shawlands to Glasgow Central, I boarded the 0940 Virgin Pendalino train to London Euston. Soon I was tucking into my Great British Breakfast and watching Scotland slip into England on a smooth journey. The train hostess patiently explained all the options available for breakfast, including eggs benedict or crushed avocado and bacon, when a wee Glasgow voice pipes up: ‘Can I jist hiv a roll and fried egg and tottie scone, hen?’

    Rather than squander my hard earned cash on an expensive London hotel, I opted for Clink 78 - a former Court House close to Kings Cross, where Punk band The Clash had stood trial and where Charles Dickens once worked. The old Court has been transformed into a lively hostel with quirky decor and real cells as accommodation.

    A pleasant walk round London and then off to the Southwark Playhouse to see a rarely performed musical - The Rink - written by Kander and Ebb, composers of CHICAGO and CABARET. Then back to me cell in time for curfew…    Read more

  • Robert FyfeA Pre Brexit European Tour
    Day 2

    The fast train to Switzerland

    June 5, 2018 in Switzerland ⋅ ⛅ 19 °C

    After a fairly comfortable night’s sleep in my cell, and a good shower, I took advantage of the Clink continental breakfast - a snip at £2 (only £1 if I had booked the night before - drat!). Somewhat surprisingly, porridge was not on the menu.

    A grey morning and a short walk led me to St Pancras International. What a magnificent Victorian Station - to think it was once earmarked for demolition. A smooth check-in and I was soon on board the 0922 Eurostar to Paris. With Standard Premier Class you get (another) continental breakfast, served by pleasant uniformed attendants reminiscent of air hostesses. After a stop at Ashford, Kent, the conductor announced we would shortly be entering the Channel Tunnel. How exciting! Although I have been fortunate enough to travel by Eurostar on a few occasions, it never ceases to amaze me when, after only 20 minutes in the tunnel, you suddenly emerge into the French countryside.

    On arrival at the gargantuan Paris Gare du Nord station, I took the Metro two stops to the Gare du Lyon. Regrettably I didn’t have time for lunch at the magnificent Le Train Bleu restaurant, created for the Exposition Universelle in 1900. Ah well, maybe next time. I had to make do with a Croque Monsieur from the Buffet Car as I boarded the 1423 TGV-Lyria express to Switzerland. Leaving the grey, graffiti daubed suburbs of Paris behind, the train soon entered rural France, and the mist lifted and the sun shone throughout the afternoon. The flat, patchwork fields gave way to the lovely tree-lined gorges of Burgundy as we passed through Dijon (no stopping for mustard!), and on to Basle, Switzerland where I had to change trains for the last hour of the journey to Zürich. A very pleasant, smooth trip.

    Three very pucker elderly English ladies across the compartment from me commented on how they enjoyed train travel. ‘But I wouldn’t do what Margot did’ said the eldest. ‘She went right across Russia herself on the Trans Siberian. But then she’s not afraid of anything. Did you notice she’s got her head completely shaved?’ (And after a pause). ‘Strange she never married’.

    Casa Heinrich in Zürich was a pleasant guest house, 10 minutes walk from the station. There is no reception and you use a code to gain entry. Had a walk round the lovely old Altstadt this evening and had a tasty meal of whole roast pork knuckle (sorry, Betty) washed down with local beer. The place was like an old fashioned Germanic beer keller - the young blond waiter looked like he had just stepped out of a poster for Hitler youth, and all that was missing was Ann Blyth belting out operetta hits while balancing frothy beer steins on her bosom. Legend has it that Wilhelm Tell’s crossbow was kept here.

    A lovely stroll to the lakeside finished off a very pleasant evening. Zürich really is a most attractive place to visit.    Read more

  • Robert FyfeA Pre Brexit European Tour
    112
    Day 3

    Beautiful Bernina Express

    June 6, 2018 in Italy ⋅ 🌧 24 °C

    Up at 05.30 to catch the train from Zürich to Chur and join the UNESCO World Heritage rail journey on the famed Bernina Express. Boarded my (1st class) observation carriage to enjoy a 4.5 hour journey in the Alps. And what a perfect day for this thrilling, breathtaking trip. Lush meadows and aquamarine rivers gave way to snow-clad mountains punctuated with tunnels, bridges, viaducts and waterfalls - absolutely gorgeous! I wondered if Switzerland would really be like those chocolate box pictures of yesteryear - and it didn’t disappoint. Beautiful alpine flowers and camel-coloured cows with large cow bells looking like the wrapping from the Milka chocolate bars from Lidl. All that was missing was Shirley Temple as Heidi playing with her kid goats.

    After stuffing his face immediately on departure with a variety of foodstuffs, the rotund Japanese man across from me promptly fell asleep on top of his long suffering wife, then after an hour suddenly woke up to exclaim to me ‘isn’t it beautiful scenery?’ - as if he would know.

    I eventually gave up trying to take photos - there were so many spectacular views. The pristine train with its gleaming observation carriages and friendly staff only added to the occasion. An absolute highlight of my trip - and it’s only day 3.

    All too soon we arrived at the Bernina Express destination - Tirano - just across the border into Italy. A pretty little tourist town. After the obligatory gelato, I moved next door to the main line station and caught the train on my 2.5 hour trip to Milan. This was a pleasant journey which made its way down the Eastern shore of Lake Como, where Campbell and I had enjoyed a holiday last year. I even caught a view of the wonderful Bellagio - but alas no sign of Mr Clooney!

    The 1930s monumental terminus of Milan Central Station is one of my favourite railway stations. Mussolini wanted the station to represent the power of the Fascist regime - and boy, did he succeed! What a grand place to end a trip on surely one of the great railway journeys of the world.    Read more

  • Robert FyfeA Pre Brexit European Tour
    Day 3

    Magnificent Milano Centrale

    June 6, 2018 in Italy ⋅ ⛅ 24 °C

    Thought this behemoth deserved a footprint of its own.

  • Robert FyfeA Pre Brexit European Tour
    Day 4

    Sleeper to Sicily

    June 7, 2018 in Italy ⋅ 🌬 26 °C

    At 20.10 last night, I boarded the overnight sleeper train from Milan all the way to Sicily. A marathon journey of some 19 hours 38 minutes. And if I was expecting a luxurious travel experience, I was about to be sorely disappointed - the Venice Simplon Orient Express this was not. The train resembled the kind of graffiti-decorated transport that you might expect of Italian railways on a short local journey from Roma Termini to San Pietro. My 2 berth 1st class compartment had certainly seen better days with little by way of creature comforts. Unlike the meticulously uniformed crews of the Polish and Russian trains last year, with their peaked caps and efficient welcome, this train attendant resembled an overweight and unkempt Reg Varney from On the Buses. With an ill-fitting uniform and grubby shirt which was too tight to fasten, he sported at least two days of grey stubble.

    And if I had expected fine dining in the restaurant car washed down with a glass of Valpolicella, again it was not to be. Not a buffet car nor even a trolley appeared to exist - and on a journey which was to take the best part of 20 hours. How glad was I that I had had that McD’s earlier when accessing their free WiFi. All that was left for dinner was a half eaten packet of crisps, a bag of Mint Imperials and a bottle of water so warm I could have easily have made a cup of tea with it - if only I had a tea bag.

    My travelling roomie embarked at Genoa. He was a tall, bearded Italian who spent some time rearranging our tiny space, with a great deal of moving luggage, ladders, toiletries etc, while parading around (if one can parade in such a tiny space) in his briefs - why have Italian men never heard of boxers?

    Our Trenitalia ‘Welcome Pack’ included amongst other bits and pieces, an eye mask. After being dazzled by the evening lights outside our blind-less window, I decided to make use of them to get to sleep. The underside of the bunk above me was covered in a full-length mirror, and when I awoke I was startled to see who looked like Lady Isobel Barnett from ‘What’s My Line’ staring down at me.

    In spite of this, my lower berth was remarkably comfortable and I got a reasonable night’s sleep. After devouring the last of the Mint Imperials for breakfast, I was amazed to discover by accident that refreshments were available from a cubbyhole at the end of the compartment. A long-life apricot croissant and an espresso later and I began to feel human again. Even Reg Varney came up trumps in converting our two berths into a relatively pleasant sitting area with a few clicks and pulls of levers.

    My Italian friend disembarked at Rosarno in Calabria at 10.00, and I had the compartment to myself for the remaining leg of the trip. The train hugged the coast all the way with terrific views of the Tyrrhenian Sea. This wasn’t so bad after all.    Read more

  • Robert FyfeA Pre Brexit European Tour
    Day 4

    Is it a train? Is it a ship?

    June 7, 2018 in Italy ⋅ 🌬 26 °C

    On arrival at the ferry terminal at San Giovanni, there was no need to disembark - the train rolled on to the ferry in two halves - one of the few places where this actually happens. It was exciting to watch, with the train rolling on, then our half reversing off and then travelling back on to lie parallel with the front half. We were able to leave our belongings and go up on deck as we crossed the Straits of Messina to one of Sicily’s main cities, Messina. It was good to get some fresh air and a walk about. The crossing only took about 30 minutes, just like going to Bute, although Messina had a bit more life about it and a good deal more sunshine than Rothesay usually does.

    The train reunited, we journeyed down Sicily’s east coast, passing the lovely Taormina and the shadow of Mount Etna, the most active volcano in the world, apparently - I think I’ll just stay on the train. Olive and orange trees and giant cacti lined the tracks here. As we pulled into our final destination I felt, like that Rodgers and Hart musical, one of ‘The Boys from Syracuse’.    Read more

  • Robert FyfeA Pre Brexit European Tour
    Day 5

    Surprising Syracuse

    June 8, 2018 in Italy ⋅ 🌬 22 °C

    On arrival, Syracuse proved to be a bigger city than I had imagined. A bit careworn and unkempt, I was glad I was not staying near the station but across a short stretch of water in the attractive Old Town area of Ortigia, a 15 minute walk away. The Terre & Mare B&B was contained within an old palazzo just off the main drag. I pressed the buzzer and was told to come up to the 7th floor - you’ve got to be kidding, I thought, no lift and this heat and this luggage! However a charming young Sicilian rushed out to meet me - ‘sorry, I mean 2nd floor’. Grazie al cielo! He proceeded to provide me with a map and a suggested walking tour of the main sights of old Syracuse. He showed me my single room, small but perfectly formed, complete with WiFi, air-conditioning, ensuite shower room, designer toiletries, and bidet - all of which I put to good use within 10 minutes.

    The suggested walking tour was a hit, and I loved walking about the Old Town with its beautiful Duomo, Temple of Apollo, Castle and fabulous sea views, in the early evening sunshine. Syracuse was the birthplace of Archimedes, and they don’t let you forget it. The restaurant I ate in that night was called Arches. ‘It’s pronounced Arkes’ pointed out the owner, ‘after Archimedes’. And here was me thinking it was named after the 60s pop group who had a hit with Sugar, Sugar.

    I was struck by how many of the more mature ladies looked so glamorous, even when well passed their sell-by date. One particular lady out walking her small dog, looked like a latter day Marilyn Monroe, had she lived. Aged about 80, her hair was coiffed in a platinum blonde 1960s style, with pale makeup and ruby red lipstick. She even had a similar full-skirted white dress à la Seven Year Itch, the only saving grace being that there were no subway gratings nearby.

    The breakfast was a delight - served on the roof terrace with terrific views, and the staff were so friendly. The teenaged girl who giggled and brought endless coffee told me her dearest wish was to visit Scotland, where all the pretty houses had geraniums in their window boxes. Not the last time I was in Govan, senorita. I giggled back and left her to her delusions.

    I could certainly recommend the Terre e Mare B&B if anyone was visiting the area.    Read more

  • Robert FyfeA Pre Brexit European Tour
    Day 5

    Chaotic Catania

    June 8, 2018 in Italy ⋅ ⛅ 21 °C

    Back on the rails again. Got chatting to a couple from Melbourne who had spent 8 days in Syracuse. ‘Don’t get me wrong’, he said, ‘we loved it, but it does need a bit of TLC and some of these old buildings want demolishing’. Ah, the Aussies…

    Today’s trip involved taking the train to Catania where after a 2 hour break there was a connection to Sicily’s capital, Palermo. The first train was brand new, with comfy leather seats and welcome air-conditioning. The only problem was that it was packed with over-excited teenagers on their way to Rome, and an even more excited teacher who screamed at the top of her voice, constantly waving her arms, pulling passengers from their seats, waving bits of paper and yelling at her charges to sit in their assigned seats. After about 20 minutes her pupils were all finally seated when the train conductor arrived to break the news that they were in the wrong carriage. More yelling and waving of papers, but at last they departed.

    On arrival at Catania with 2 hours to kill, I asked at the Customer Service window if there was any left luggage facility. Without lifting her head from her Bella magazine, the Customer Service representative said ‘no’. Do you have any WiFi in the station? ‘No’. Well, do you know anywhere nearby where I might be able to access WiFi, such as McDonalds or Starbucks? ‘No. We have nothing like that. Nowhere.’ I wondered if she had contemplated a career with the Catania Tourist Information Service.

    I had a hot but interesting walk into the city centre, laden with luggage. The main Duomo Square was beautiful, but the rest of Catania looked like a poor relation of Syracuse, only bigger and more built up - and the litter - cigarette butts everywhere - where were the Glasgow Central Fag Police when you needed them?

    As it was a few hours since breakfast and I would be on the train to Palermo for the next 3 hours, I decided to take a packed lunch on board, given my experience of Trenitalia catering. I found a nice little coffee shop with a smiling senorita who explained she cooked everything herself and it was all health foods. By this time it was too late to make my escape, so I opted for a spinach and ricotta cheese flatbread. She cut me a square with the precision of a surgeon and carefully packed it in a crisp white grease proof envelope. ‘Van ov my desserts, perhaps?’ she suggested with the insistence of Frau Blücher from Young Frankenstein. I pointed to the least offensive - one of her whole meal chocolate and pistachio nut offerings and thought she wouldn’t win any prizes from Mary Berry. A bottle of home made Sicilian lemonade later and I started cramming the goods into my already packed backpack. ‘Oh no’ exclaimed Frau Blücher, ‘you must carry eet like thees’ and held the package up flat on her outstretched palm, a presentation worthy of the adoration of the Magi.
    I returned to catch the train balancing my precious goods and found an unoccupied table seat for four. As I reached for the luggage rack, my precious bakery item slipped from the envelope and landed ricotta side down on the floor. The two girls opposite thought this highly amusing, but I thought what the hell, and picked it up, dusted it down and ate it. Well it was either that or starve.

    I had bought a half kilo of cherries from a fruit stall outside and then proceeded to devour them instead of the nut tart. They were delicious, but the juice from an overripe one squirted over my shirt. By this time the girls were biting their lips and giggling helplessly. I couldn’t quite catch what they were saying, but it was something along the lines of ‘Poor old soul, he really shouldn’t be let out alone’. All I could think of was the lyric from that Francie and Josie song ‘Dae cherry stains come oot?’

    I enjoyed the journey to Palermo - lovely countryside with more oranges and lemons. I hadn’t realised how big Sicily was - the largest island in the Med, with a population similar to Scotland’s. Regrettably there wasn’t time to see much of the capital city, but I would love to come back. I found my way to the docks and boarded the GNV Ferry - Atlas - and was pleased with my cabin accommodation for my overnight sailing to Naples. So long, Sicily, it’s been good. Mostly.    Read more

  • Robert FyfeA Pre Brexit European Tour
    Day 6

    Ferry - Train - Ferry

    June 9, 2018 in Italy ⋅ ☀️ 24 °C

    The 4 berth cabin I had booked on the Sicily - Naples crossing was only made up for 2 - yes, no fighting for space. However, on catching sight of my bunk mate I suddenly wasn’t so sure. A hefty built Sicilian wearing leathers and chewing gum, I assumed he was one of the many bikers I had seen on boarding at Palermo. He was monosyllabic and made no attempt at conversation, despite my best efforts in pidgin Italian. He sported a permanently startled look with high eyebrows - wait a minute - he didn’t appear to have any eyebrows - could they have been painted on, like a bus conductress of old? Surely not - and yet if I closed my eyes I could just hear the gallus announcement of an SMT matriarch ‘this is a country bus, ye cannae get aff afore Faifley’.

    The sail away from Palermo harbour was beautiful. It was a lovely sunny evening as we pulled away from our moorings and the splendid back drop of rolling hills that surrounded the capital. I felt guilty I hadn’t seen much of the place, but the purpose of the trip was as much, if not more, about the travelling experience itself, and doing a bit of a recce for places I would like to return to. Arrivederci, Sicily.

    By the time I was tucked in my comfy berth, my room mate was getting ready to hit the nightlife of the Atlas, with a garish outfit which, coupled with the aforementioned eyebrows, gave him an uncanny resemblance to the drag queen, Divine. In the process of his ablutions, he managed to break the shower head off, leaving it in pieces on the floor. Ah well, I thought, it’ll be a Paisley boadywash for me in the morning.

    After the usual Italian disorganised disembarkation, I made my way to Naples Central and caught the train across the width of Italy to Bari on the Adriatic coast. Like most Italian cities, Bari grew on you with a little perseverance. Newly pedestrianised streets lined with designer shops, and a lovely old town complete with the ubiquitous cathedral. And then on to another ferry - this time from Bari to Patras in Greece. Here’s hoping Divine doesn’t have the same travel itinerary.    Read more

  • Robert FyfeA Pre Brexit European Tour
    Day 7

    Italy to Greece

    June 10, 2018 in Greece ⋅ 🌙 23 °C

    The first glimpse of Superfast 1 at Bari Harbour did not fill me with excitement. A long orange container ship that had seen better days. I remember travelling on the brand new Superfast lX and Superfast X when Scotland had its own international ferry sailings from Rosyth and thought they were better than a lot of cruise ships I had been on. Not so this earlier model. However, in fairness the passenger accommodation was pretty good and promised a comfortable crossing. Three young women from Uraguay were excited about their ‘cruise’ to Greece and immediately started on the ouzo. The Superfast brochure encouraged passengers to to take advantage of the facilities on board, including discos, restaurants, cocktail bars and swimming pools. The girls had clearly omitted to note the small asterisk which indicated that these facilities were not available on all vessels - and certainly not at all on Superfast 1. Undeterred, they proceeded to flirt with the friendly waiter, Alex, posturing and posing for selfies.

    Again our 4 berth cabin only had 2 occupants, and this time a tall, grey-haired, slim Greek man joined me. He resembled a latter day Captain Von Trapp or perhaps Captain Corelli himself. Well mannered and considerate, he scarcely made a noise as he disembarked at Igoumenista, Greece at the ungodly hour of 5am.

    We passed Corfu and then Kefalonnia, the setting for probably my all-time favourite novel, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, if you can get through the first 100 pages that is. As I sat on deck in the already hot morning sunshine, my mind drifted and, wait a minute, could that be Pelagia laughing and running along the shore, and surely that was Mandras swimming with dolphins. Or was it just a cruel trick of the light and the sea?

    The three Uraguyans looked a bit worse for wear in the morning. Perhaps they had discovered hidden night spots on Superfast 1, and I noticed that their Alpha-Female was sporting a sizeable hickey on the left side of her neck. Perhaps Alex was even more friendly than we thought.

    Sadly the train no longer runs all the way from the Port of Patras to Athens. However, I managed to catch an express coach on the 2.5 hour journey, which surprisingly was a brand new toll motorway all the way. Greece seems to have benefitted from being in the EU. And what magnificent views of the Gulf of Corinth, including the new Rio-Antirrio bridge connecting the Peloponnese to mainland Greece, and passing close to the wonder that is the Corinth Canal.

    A hair-raising sprint across Athens by local bus and Metro brought me to the Port of Piraeus. I didn’t feel too bad about not lingering in Athens as I had been there a few times with Campbell and had enjoyed the some of the many treasures it had to offer. On arrival at the Blue Star Ferry terminal I was told that my overnight ferry to the island of Lesbos had been cancelled - no explanation offered - but that I had been re-booked on the same route with Swan Hellenic Ferries. As I boarded the Nissos Rodos I thought I had gotten the better deal. The ferry was well equipped with comfortable lounges and cafe/bars and a good self-service restaurant. After a tasty dinner of roast beef and potatoes (how do they get potatoes to taste that good?), I retired to my 4 berth cabin to meet my travelling companions. After a while the steward showed in a disheveled elderly man who resembled Zorba the Greek. I don’t know if it was the sight of me sprawled out on the lower bunk, but he began shouting about having booked a more luxurious cabin with Blue Star Ferries and stormed off, never to be seen again. A 4 berth en suite cabin to myself, I thought.

    However, just after midnight as I was dropping off, the cabin door was opened and closed suddenly. Was I being burgled on the high seas? I opened the door but there was no sign of anyone. Determined to get to the bottom of it, I marched up to Reception where I was told someone wanted to check in. ‘Three hours after the ship has sailed’, I queried. ‘Well he’s a soldier, and he’s been drinking with his mates in the bar up until now’ I was told. The thought of sharing my accommodation with a drunk, Greek soldier did not appeal, and after a fruitless search for him, the steward advised that he was probably staying the bar. I was told this was a far from unusual occurrence, and as the Army paid for his bunk anyway I could have it all to myself. Result.    Read more

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