It was 10:40 on an early fall morning in England. Alongside the platform at Victoria Station in London stood the train grandly designated in railway guides as the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express.
By the step leading up into the parlor car stood a middle-age man, resplendent in tuxedo, conversing with a woman in black cocktail dress with feather boa.
It was unseasonably warm, and this job of seeing off a beautiful woman was not one to be envied, but he performed his part manfully. Graceful phrases fell from his lips in polished French . . .
If those three paragraphs seem familiar, they’re a liberal adaptation-based on my experience-of the opening of Agatha Christie’s “Murder On the Orient Express” (in the book, it is a freezingly cold winter morning in the Mideast, and the two characters are a young French lieutenant with a small man muffled up to the ears).
The man and woman on Platform 2 are the first two people we spot when we arrive at Victoria Station to begin our once-in-a-lifetime experience.
They are playing the part. There would be others doing the same. After all, this is why they are riding the train-and paying a lot, at that. For this kind of money, they could play any role they want.
The Orient Express has that effect. There are so many legends and myths about the train-actually, there was more than one Orient Express, designated by the various routes the trains took as they linked Europe with Asia-thanks in part to the six major films, 19 books and even a piece of sheet music produced about the intriguing train.
It achieved the reputation as “The Train of Kings, the King of Trains.” There was no finer train in its heyday of the 1920s and 1930s. Or this day, either.
But a trip on the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express bears little similarity to the account unfolded in Agatha Christie’s book, and later the movie. For starters, she never even wrote a book called “Murder On the Orient Express.” The original title was “Murder In the Calais Coach.”
The train has many cars from the 1920s and 1930s, refurbished, of course. And it does follow some of the same routes depicted in the movie. Also, it once was marooned for three days during a severe snowstorm in 1929, much as occurred in the film.
But, as far as anyone knows, there never was a murder on the train. And, for certain, there was no Hercule Poirot.
There is one intriguing aside, though.
Legend has it that Christie got the idea for her famed book while traveling in Sleeping Car 3309. The same 3309 that’s part of our train.
Setting off
At 11 a.m. sharp, the stationmaster waves his arm and we pull away from Victoria Station. There will be two sets of carriages used for our journey from London to Verona, Italy (most passengers will continue on to Venice, the end of the 31-hour ride).
Leaving London for Folkestone, where we will cross the English Channel, we are on cream and brown Pullman cars outfitted with tables for two, 10 to a compartment, and plush wingback chairs facing each other. The tables are set for lunch, and our stewards, Barry and Gus, immediately pour a glass or two of champagne.
I get a little tipsy-and so does my hat when I lean back against the crocheted lace covering on top of the chair. Several other women are wearing hats. We, too, are playing the role.
Besides, the brochure advises: You can never be overdressed on the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express.
The lunch consists of chicken and lemon soup with tarragon; smoked Scotch salmon parcel filled with shrimp and dill with mayonnaise; iceberg and radiccio salad with mange-tout (snow peas), cherry tomatoes and baby sweet corn; new potatoes in minted butter; strawberry and cream tart with melba sauce; plus wine.
We pass cows, sheep and the green countryside of Kent. The one- hour, 45-minute ride rolls by quickly. In Folkestone blustery weather delays our departure on the Sea Cat catamaran. Some of the romance momentarily evaporates during the hourlong wait in the lounge of the ferry depot, but it gives me time to buy a pair of Sea Bands for the choppy ride across the Channel.
How happy I am to have these bands that apply pressure to points on the wrists, helping prevent seasickness. With 10-foot waves and 20 m.p.h. winds, other susceptible passengers are not as pleased.
Boarding the Continental
Bon jour. Welcome to France. The blue and gold carriages of the Continental train are a welcome sight in Boulogne.
It has been years since we have been on a sleeper train, let alone one so posh. Each of the cars gleams with rich upholstery and inlaid paneling. The opulence of another era echoes throughout.
We are in Sleeping Car 3552, whose history we investigate in the VSOE handbook: First class ‘luxe sleeping car built in 1929 by Enterprises Industrielles Charentaises Aytre, La Rochelle, France. Decorated by Nelson. Pyrenees-Cote d’Argent-Express 1929-1939; used as hotel in Lyon during World War II; Etoile du Nord 1945; Simplon-Orient-Express 1945-1949; Nord Express 1949-1969; Costa Vasca Express 1969-1972. Tiger-Lily marquetry decoration.
Our compartment, for now, is made up for day use, with comfortable upright seats. (Later, our cabin steward will transform the day cabin into a bedroom with upper and lower berths.) It is the size of a closet-we learn to stay out of each other’s way-with a wash basin enclosed in what looks like a cupboard and stocked with towels, luxury soap, VSOE toothbrush and a miniature tube of Marvis dentifricio gusto forte. VSOE terry slippers are hermetically sealed in plastic. They’ve thought of everything-almost.
We locate toilets at both ends of our sleeping car, to be flushed only when the train is moving. OK, now where are the showers? There are none, even on the Orient Express. I now realize why women wear hats. They come in handy to hide unkempt hair.
There’s a knock at our compartment door. Is the king of Bulgaria arriving? Perhaps Mata Hari?
It is the maitre d’, in coat and tails, asking whether we prefer first seating for dinner (6:30 p.m.) or late seating (9:30 p.m.). We choose the earlier hour so we can be finished eating by the time we arrive in Paris. We change into evening clothes (cocktail dress and dark suit-some men will be wearing black tie).
The three dining cars are equally exquisite-black lacquer panels etched with sporting animals, Lalique glass panels decorated with-what else?-Bacchanalian maidens, and table lamps with red silk fringed shades.
Chef de cuisine Christian Bodiguel is a wizard in the kitchen, which is only slightly larger than an airplane galley-barely big enough to turn around in, let alone roomy enough for five chefs and two assistants. Yet they create more than 100 meals per seating.
Dinner is splendid-steamed sea bass with lobster and brandy cream; roast fillet of beef with fresh coriander; spaghetti-shaped vegetables; roast potatoes; fine French cheeses; and anis-seed pastry with almond cream.
Meals-the lunch in England, afternoon tea and pastries, dinner, continental breakfast and lunch in Austria-Italy before disembarking in Venice-are included in the fare, but those not satisfied with the main menu may pay extra and order a la carte. On that menu are such items as smoked Scottish salmon with diced avocado ($45), beluga caviar with blinis ($124), broiled baby lobster ($55), braised duckling with walnuts ($28) and eggs benedict with leaf spinach ($12). Wines and other drinks cost extra, also.
It is the Art Nouveau Bar Car that most evokes the mystique of the Orient Express, where the character parts are played best. Performers-passengers-sit on plush divans and ottomans, sipping, smoking, schmoozing.
The piano player is playing “I Love Paris” as we pull into Gare de l’Est. We step onto the platform to soak up the joie de vivre of the City of Lights. Some passengers leave the train here and others join. The 45-minute stop also allows time to pick up provisions for Chef Bodiguel. The Orient Express departs at 11:15 p.m. The tune the pianist picks is amazingly apropos: “C’est Si Bon.”
Sometime during the night, we make up the hour-and-a-half we lost at the channel-obviously the reason I didn’t sleep, or didn’t sleep very well. And, sometime during the night we eventually will learn that one bag we had checked in London as through luggage was put off the train with another passenger in the wee hours. (Who says trains can’t lose luggage?)
Our cabin steward, Stephen McGhee, delivers breakfast at our appointed hour of 7:30 a.m., just as we start snaking our way through spectacular scenery. At 8 a.m., McGhee knocks again to let us know we are passing beautiful Lake Constance and can see it from the other side of the train. About a half-hour later we start seeing heavenly “Heidi” country.
McGhee converts our bedroom back into dayroom in 30 seconds flat. He tells us he’s been on the Orient Express eight years now. “It’s tiring,” he says, “but it’s a very interesting job compared to what other people do for a living.”
Visiting No. 3309
With memories of Agatha Christie firmly in mind, we visit carriage No. 3309.
Among other passengers in No. 3309, we find Lee Quelch of St. Louis and her father, George Quelch, of Ironton, Mo. He developed a love for trains while stationed in Germany in the 1950s.
“I’ve been wanting to take this forever, so we finally did,” he says.
It was a great experience, they agree, but neither slept very well.
“One night on the train is about all you can take,” he says. “I was waiting to be lulled by the clickety-click, but that never happened.”
After lunch-zucchini flowers with fresh-water crayfish filling and caper-olive oil dressing, lamb fillet sauteed with green tea and mint, braised fennel, potato cake and summer fruits in cinnamon wine-we gather our hand luggage and prepare to disembark in Verona.
We say goodbye to people we had met on our journey, and step onto the platform at Porta Nuova station in the city of Romeo and Juliet.
This is when we discover we are one bag short. There is a great deal of activity shuffling all the luggage in both baggage cars, and assurances that the train will not leave until our bag is found.
Mon dieu! This train, of all trains, does not lose bags. But after some 15 minutes of delay (Verona is scheduled as a 10-minute stop), the Italian stationmaster informs our chef du train (John Coe’s title has nothing to do with cooking) that if the VS-O-E does not move out, it will lose track priority to a slow freight train approaching.
With abject apologies and assurances that our bag surely will be found in Venice (it was found in Switzerland and delivered to us within 48 hours), Coe moves the train forward to Venice.
And, with sighs of regret, we stand on the platform gazing at each window as the carriages reel by. There’s our steward, Stephen. There’s the chef de train, John Coe, and the chef-chef, Christian Bodiguel. And, look-that man there. Isn’t that, you know, Edward, the Duke of Windsor?
Riding the Orient Express
The Venice Simplon-Orient-Express operates between London and the Europe continent from March to November. Its traditional route runs twice a week from London to Venice and back. A new route through the Rhine Valley is offered once a week from Dusseldorf, Germany to Venice and from Venice to Dusseldorf.
Fare for the London-to-Venice run is $1,525. Fare for the Dusseldorf-to-Venice run is $1,360. Shorter segments can be taken at less cost on either run. Prices include all meals.
Day trips on the British Pullman travel to 11 British landmarks, including Leeds Castle, Canterbury, Hever Castle, Bath, Bristol, Warwick Castle and Stratford-Upon Avon. Prices range from $200 to $305 a person, including on-board meals.
Contact a travel agent or call the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express at 800-524-2420.
