Take the train: London to Barcelona

A year ago, in a time far, far away, I travelled by train from London to Barcelona. It’s a trip I’ve taken a few times, and I’ve always found it a more satisfying experience than flying.

The mythology, and sometimes the fact, is that the train is the more expensive option. On this occasion it cost £50 return on Eurostar and £75 return Paris – Barcelona from raileurope.com. So, yes, possibly more than a budget airline, but airport transfers/parking can easily cancel out the difference.

There has been talk of the travel reset that will/could/should take place after Covid. We’ve caught a glimpse of a world with quieter skies, and maybe also of life at a slower place. Who knows how we’ll come out the other end, but an increased interest in rail travel has been emerging for a while, particularly in Europe. Planet Rail saw their highest bookings on record in Jan 2020. The Paris-Nice night sleeper is scheduled for a return, hopefully by the end of 2021; SNCF is spending €3billion on next gen TGV; and Austrian OBB are leading a consortium to reintroduce night trains across the continent, including Barcelona - Zurich.

International train travel is certainly a more eco-friendly option than plane or car. Calculating exact CO2 emissions is a complicated business if you take into consideration long-term maintenance, transfer journeys either end, difference types of train etc. However as a general indication, flying London to Barcelona generates 107kg versus 35kg on the train, according to EcoPassenger.

So, even if these numbers are out, you could double them and the train is still winning. I’m sure it’s preaching to the converted, but it’s still handy to have a few stats up your sleeve for added Takskryt, the Swedish word for train bragging, which is set to become the new Hygge. Both possibly translatable as smug.

There is a nostalgia for a golden age of rail travel (which very probably never existed for 99% of the population) that ties in with the Gatsby-style party some think we’re headed for. My personal train fantasies hark back not to 1920s dining cars, but to the late-eighties interrail of guitar-playing Dutch hippies and windows-that-open; of sharing crisps with musical-singing Israeli girls fresh from National Service (they can use guns and sing the entire Rodgers and Hammerstein songbook?)

You might have to dig deeper to find the romance in over air-conditioned modern train interiors, of plane-like moulded plastic rather than rattly wood panelling and individual table lights. But find it I do.

First stop should be The Man In Seat Sixty-One. Delightfully, Mark Smith’s website comes from a place of enthusiasm rather than commerce. I followed his hack for booking the TGV on Rail Europe and it worked a treat. As you can’t choose your seat, keep adding seats to your basket until you get a seat number over 60. That’s the upper deck, and that’s what you want. Then delete unwanted seats….

In an ideal world I’d set off from The Great Northern Hotel. In reality the Premier Inn Hub at Kings Cross (compact and contemporary, as promised) is handy if you’ve got an early Eurostar departure.

Getting on an international train in the middle of London will always be a thrill, even if the Eurostar lacks the sparkle it once had. Check in is always easy and you don’t have to faff around with toiletries. Compared with the all-over palaver of the airport, the stresses are minor (to buy snacks before or after security? Tip: choice is better before, but then you do have to juggle them through x-ray machines…).

Changing trains in Paris requires getting from Gare du Nord to Gare de Lyon – it’s only about 5km, but on my last couple of trips it’s been the trickiest part of the journey. It should be easy – and often is - it’s just a couple of stops on the RER, Line D. Last year I was there during the flux of the French train strike and, despite the efforts of staff in high-vis, got caught-up in a surreal network of un-signposted tunnels. A cab (around 20 mins and €20) has on occasion been a fun way of getting a quick Paris fix. I imagine I will walk (around an hour), but when do you not have luggage?

I like to leave time for a quick meal in the changeover – on this occasion at Terminus Nord opposite Gare du Nord. The brasserie is everything you want for your Paris-in-an-hour experience. Of course it’s expected that you’re catching a train, it’s totally ok to arrive with a pile of luggage and to be on a schedule. It’s buzzing with locals (at the back) travellers (perched near the live departure screens) and couples engaging in international affairs (the banquettes).

White tablecloths, mosaic floors, zinc bar, brisk waiters are all très agréable. The French onion soup and glass of house white is en pointe, and reasonable, and my neighbour’s steak frites looks fantastic. I wonder why don’t I come here for lunch every weekend?

At Gare du Lyon be sure to take a minute to appreciate the station exterior (built for the 1900 World Fair), and to sneak a quick look at the stunning Train Bleu restaurant. It’s undoubtedly where you should stop off for a treat, substantial funds allowing, for the Belle Époque interior as much as the food.

Be aware that there are two halls on the Gare de Lyon concourse. The main one, where Le Train Bleu is, and another down the left of the tracks which takes a few minutes to get to.

I find my reservation, forward-facing on the upper deck naturellement, and oh boy, oh joy I’ve never been so delighted by a seat. It’s a single seat – as in a whole row of it’s own with no neighbours – red velvet and massive, with foot stool, head rest, panoramic window and no-one to fight over the socket with. It has an individual blimin table light, which, if you squint, is vaguely art deco.

Romantic train travel, I’ve found you, I’m back. And you’ll never guess what, it’s seat 61. Thank-you, man, for the only upgrade I’ve ever had.

It reminds me of when Carrie Bradshaw takes a train from New York to San Francisco, arriving for her “deluxe upper class cabin” in full flapper get-up. She’s shown to a tin can of a compartment, and is soon “starting to understand why there was a murder on the Orient Express”. Although not dressed as a flapper, I was kind of expecting this kind of downer. Except no, I seemed to have been upgraded to first class. It is heaven and I am ruined.

The six and a half hour journey goes all too quickly in a stupor of comfort, wifi, views of the Rhone valley, snow-topped mountains and kilometres of neat Gallic woodpiles. The only downside is that the views end a bit prematurely – I hadn’t factored in the early winter sunset.

There is an on-board buffet which seamlessly changes languages at some point. Apparently the French think it’s a disgrace, but my croque monsieur was fine. The French don’t seem to take bought food and drink back to their seats, but eat it perched in the buffet car watching the view. Most have a discrete homemade baguette in their seat, followed by a coffee or a glass of wine standing in the buffet, so there is none of that lunging along carriages swinging a white paper bag as in the UK.

I’m the only one drinking while seated, and there’s not a four-pack or bottle of Prosecco in sight. This could be partly because it’s a Tuesday in January, but it’s rarely the party-picnic that’s become normal back home.

The journey is silent and efficient, peaceful even, travelling at over 300km ph. I arrive at Barcelona Sants Station on time, breathe in that distinctive smell (is it bleach-meets-cigarettes?) that is the Spain I love, and 20 mins by metro later I’m actually in my hotel.

I took the Eurostar in the morning (2 hours 15), spent about 3 hours in Paris, got the TGV at 15.15, and arrived in Barcelona at 21.45, in time for dinner. And I can’t wait to do it all over again, despite not meeting any Dutch hippies at all.

And better even than Takskryt? Being able to take wine home with you – making up for a return to reality in standard class for the home leg which, incidentally, was soothing as a siesta. Turns out I didn’t really need an art deco lamp after all.