On the Train Again

Today we wake up in Paris and tonight we go to bed in Penzance, Cornwall.

I've booked a taxi, as in Rome, to take us to the Gare du Nord where the Eurostar departs for London at 7:40am. We need to be there ninety minutes before departure for border checks etc, so I've booked the taxi to pick us up at 5:40am. 

Leaving our Paris Hotel

We leave the Hotel Elysees Union at 5:30 and find a taxi waiting. We naturally assume it's ours and in we hop. The driver does not have much English so there is no chit-chat. When we are about what I estimate to be about half way there, the driver's phone pings and he makes a little exclamation and pulls over. We have a little trouble getting the gist of what's going on, but it seems that he has picked up the wrong fare! Oops. He asks where we are going and we tell him. He says he can take us back to the hotel but we say 'no, no!' He asks if we'll pay cash and we says yes, cash, thirty euros. He takes us to the station and all is well… for us. Goodness knows what happened to the people he was supposed to pick up. I hope they just got into the taxi that was meant for us. Not a great start to the day.

Gare du Nord Station, Paris

When we finally board the Eurostar I consider it a minor miracle that our Eurail Pass has worked and our booked seats have been accepted. As previously mentioned, our Eurail Passes are 1^st Class which technically allows travel in any carriage. Because the trip from Paris to London is relatively short and the seat reservations expensive, I have booked 2^ndClass seats to save quite a few Euros. I've been having little nervous twinges about the thought of trying to convince a French railway official that we are allowed to travel in either class in spite of having 1^st Class rail passes. As we all know, most of the things that keep us awake at night never come to pass, and so it is with our train seats, so we sit back and watch France pass by as we speed towards the Channel Tunnel. When we suddenly disappear into the tunnel, we're both surprised. What, no warning? No farewell to France? No fanfare? Well, no, we're in the tunnel (don't think about all that water over our heads), then we're out of it and in the United Kingdom.

An hour later we're sitting in a cafe in London having breakfast.

We need to take the Underground from St Pancras over to Paddington Station to catch our train to Penzance in Cornwall. I pull our my Oyster Card Wallet to check if I have any credit left from my last trip in 2014 and find that, for some reason I can't quite remember, I have a second card as well, (did my friend Gayle give me a spare one?). This is good news because we now have one each, and both have some credit on them.

We both have very manageable luggage: one small wheelie bag each and a small back pack each, so using the underground presents no problem—once we get on the right train (we need the westbound but somehow end up on the eastbound). Easily remedied, hop off one, hop on the other.

The Paddington Bear Seat at Paddington Station

At Paddington Station we discover that Great Western Railway, who will take us to Penzance, have a 1^st Class lounge where we can sit and avail ourselves of tea or coffee, orange juice, biscuits, crisps and comfortable armchairs (and other facilities) until it's time for our train to depart. Perfect.

Some UK train services require seat bookings which, unlike those in Europe, are free to book. I have booked our seats on the GWR web site which, for some strange reason, gives you seats that are not in sequence, and has no option to choose your own. As a consequence, when we board our train our seats are not together. A kind traveller in the seat across the aisle from Jo asks me if I would like to take his seat so Jo and I can be at least close enough to converse. People are very thoughtful on the whole.

I take the seat which is at a table for four. Two ladies, one gentleman and now myself. We exchange greetings and before long the two ladies are chatting away to Jo and I about where we are going and telling us where they are going. The journey from London to Penzance takes about five hours. Our new friends are not going that far but still we have quite a few hours to get acquainted. It turns out the elderly gentleman doesn't know either of the two ladies but he adds a comment here and there to the conversation. The two ladies used to work together they tell us, and they are going to stay for a few days with another ex-workmate who isn't big on communication, apparently, so they don't know what to expect when they get to their destination. He may or may not be planning to take them out for a meal this evening. He may or may not have planned some activities for the coming days. The younger of the two doesn't really mind, she's just happy to be returning to the seaside she remembers from holidays with her best friend when she was a schoolgirl. We have a very happy few hours talking about books and travels and any number of other subjects. Funny how you just hit it off with some people.

Well, here we are in Penzance. It's thirteen years since last I stayed here and it seems much the same now as it was then. We walk along the Quay and around a corner to our accommodation at The Summer House which turns out to be a charming bed and breakfast run by a delightful couple who couldn't be more helpful. Our room has a small sitting room adjoining and an ensuite bathroom. All perfect.

The Summer House, Penzance

We go out for a meal, having to try several restaurants before finding a table. It seems Penzance is having a busy summer.

It's been a long day, started in Paris all those hours ago and now it's time to collapse into bed to be rested for tomorrow's adventures.