Opulence on board the iconic Orient Express
Before our train journey began, we spent two nights at the Baglioni Hotel Luna, which couldn’t have been more perfect. The hotel is tucked just around the corner from St. Mark’s Square, with its own private dock on a peaceful canal. From the moment we stepped inside, it felt like we had entered a quiet, opulent world. Think marble floors, gold-leaf ceilings, Murano chandeliers, and that unmistakable Venetian elegance.
Our room was beautifully decorated with classic touches — ornate headboards, rich fabrics, and tall windows that opened up to the canal. Each morning, we had breakfast in a grand room covered in ceiling frescoes, drinking espresso from fine china and eating buttery pastries like royalty.
During the day, we wandered the city at a relaxed pace. No itinerary, just walking, getting lost (as one does in Venice), eating cicchetti at little bacari, and soaking up the soft light bouncing off the canals. Mum and I kept saying how glad we were that we’d added those two nights — it gave us time to slow down and feel present before the next big adventure.
The morning we left for Paris, a classic wooden water taxi picked us up from the hotel’s dock. I can’t even describe how iconic it felt — Venice slowly drifting by in the morning light, the hum of the engine, the wind in our hair, and that bittersweet feeling of leaving but heading somewhere incredible.
Santa Lucia Station is surprisingly modest for such a grand departure, but once we arrived at the platform, everything changed. There it was: the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express, lined up in gleaming navy and gold. Staff in tailored uniforms stood beside the carriages, welcoming passengers one by one as we stepped off the red carpet and on to the train. It honestly felt like we’d stepped onto a movie set.
We were met by our cabin steward, who guided us to our sleeping compartment — a gorgeous space with polished wood panelling, a velvet bench, embroidered cushions, vintage reading lights, and a little fold-down basin tucked behind the panelling, complete with luxurious French toiletries. Every detail felt carefully preserved, from the luggage rack to the crystal water carafe on the side table.
We settled in with Veuve Clicquot, finest Belgium chocolates and biscuits, and then just watched the train roll away from Venice. The views of the Italian countryside through those cinematic windows were stunning — green fields, sleepy villages, and eventually the dramatic scenery of the Dolomites as we moved north.
Lunch was our first formal meal on board, and it completely set the tone for what was to come. The setting was pure art deco glamour—crisp white linens, cut crystal glasses, polished silver, and attentive service.
We started with a delicate vegetable terrine followed by a roasted chicken breast with wild mushrooms and tarragon sauce. The flavours were subtle, beautifully balanced, and paired with a lovely white wine. Dessert was a vanilla panna cotta with poached pears. Every course was timed perfectly. We lingered over coffee as the Dolomites came into view. It felt like the world outside was rushing past, but inside, everything had slowed down.
As the train picked up speed, we changed for dinner. Getting dressed up felt like part of the ritual — everyone puts in the effort. Mum wore a silk dress and I went for a bejewelled art deco gown with heels. It’s not about being overly formal, but about honouring the moment. It felt incredibly special.
The dining car was breath taking: white tablecloths, sparkling cutlery, art deco lamps, polished wood panelling. We were served a multi-course meal that honestly rivalled any fine dining experience I’ve had — an amuse-bouche, followed by seared scallops, perfectly cooked lamb, and a rich dark chocolate tart. Each dish was paired with wine, and the sommelier was happy to chat us through the choices.
After dinner, we wandered to the bar car, which had a pianist playing softly in the background. It felt warm, social, and a little surreal. Mum sipped a negroni while I had a classic French 75. People were laughing softly, sharing stories of past trips, or just sitting back and soaking in the atmosphere. It wasn’t loud or flashy — just quietly glamorous.
When we returned to our cabin, it had been transformed into a sleeping compartment with bunk beds made up with crisp sheets, thick blankets, and a chocolate on each pillow.
I lay in the upper bunk, the lights dimmed, listening to the soft rattle of the train as it wound its way through the Alps. Outside, snow-dusted mountains glowed in the moonlight. Inside, it was warm and still. Mum as we fell asleep to the gentle rhythm of the rails.
Morning in France I woke up just as the sky was turning pale grey. A soft knock on the door meant breakfast had arrived: fresh croissants, warm rolls, jam, fruit, coffee and juice — all served on a table by the window, eating as the French countryside rolled past. Small towns, golden fields, distant church spires — it felt peaceful and unreal, like time had slowed down.
Arrival in Paris By late morning, we were pulling into Gare de l'Est in Paris. As we stepped off the train, I felt a mix of excitement and sadness. We were in Paris, yes — but our time on the train was over.
Final Thoughts This journey was more than I expected. It wasn’t just about getting from Venice to Paris — it was about the in-between. The slowness, the beauty, the quiet moments with my mum, the attention to detail, the joy of being present.
Travelling on the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express isn’t just a luxury trip. It’s a return to the kind of travel that means something. It’s storytelling, nostalgia, elegance — and the gift of time well spent.
If you’re thinking of doing it, I can’t recommend it enough. Go with someone special. Dress up. Put your phone away. And just enjoy the ride!
