There are faster and more affordable ways to travel from Venice to Paris, but most involve budget airlines, plastic cutlery, and zero atmosphere, and none are quite like the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express, a Belmond train. The classic train is a jaw-dropper from the moment it arrives at the platform. Believe me, I would know. I’ve spent the past decade snapping photos of the vintage beauty every time I pass through Venice’s Santa Lucia Station. It never gets old.
This time, though, I wasn’t a bystander. I was a guest on what many call a “dream trip,” a rail journey from Venice to Paris—with a newly added embarkation stop in Rome—that I’ve fantasized about ever since I saw the 1959 Marilyn Monroe film Some Like It Hot (a comedy that involves disguises and jumping on a train bound for Florida) and Sidney Lumet’s 1974 Murder on the Orient Express.
Belmond sets the journey in motion before you even reach the platform. At 6:30 a.m. on the day of our departure, my husband and I were met in the lobby of Hotel Flora, accommodations we arranged on our own as a prelude to our 1930s-era travel experience. (Belmond offers to book passengers into its luxury properties, but it’s not a requirement of the rail experience.) The 30-room, family-run hotel is a time capsule of old Venice with Murano chandeliers, frescoed ceilings, and turn-of-the-century furniture. From the hotel, in Venice’s San Marco neighborhood on the beautiful Calle XXII Marzo, a Belmond representative whisked us across the lagoon by water taxi to Santa Lucia Station.
We waited on the platform for that magic, cinematic moment: the rising steam as the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express train rolled in. The lead engine was an Italian FS E.403, a workhorse locomotive dating back to Italy’s early 2000s, pulling 16 gold-trimmed, midnight-blue carriages. This is a heartwarming Belmond detail: In each country, a restored local locomotive takes the lead.
Stepping aboard was instant time travel. The wood paneling and shiny brass details glowed incandescent. The carriages are narrower and more compact than modern ones. “They were built when people were shorter,” laughed Mathieu Ollier, the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express’s onboard quality manager. “Everything has been kept to its original design.”
Paying tribute to original design and details is what the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express does best. The train’s 16 carriages were built between 1926 and 1949 by Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits, a Belgian-founded French company that defined the golden age of rail travel by setting a new standard for opulence on the rails. The carriages were eventually recommissioned during World War II as hospitals and even a floating hotel, and then forgotten in rail yards. In the late 1970s, American entrepreneur James B. Sherwood hunted them down and restored each to its art deco glory. By 1982, the impeccably restored Venice Simplon-Orient-Express was back on the rails.
Ollier pointed out the original coal furnaces, still hand-fed to heat each carriage. The staff uniforms—double-button jackets, waistcoats, and peaked caps in a shade almost midnight blue—mirror those of the 1930s, as does the quintessential white-glove service (minus actual white gloves), a living tribute to an age when train travel was more often elegant.
When the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express pulls into a train station, it’s a crowd-gathering experience as onlookers observe in awe.
Photo by Martin Scott Powell/Courtesy of Belmond
All aboard
Traveling on the Belmond train is a full sensory experience. The first thing you notice is the rhythm and sway of the train, less stable than today’s newer generation Maglev trains, then the sound, a percussive clickety clack, and finally the scent: that acrid and metallic smell of the brakes. Everyone is dressed to the nines, some in 1930s flair (think people in three-piece suits with tails and top hot and silk dresses adorned with feathery boas). It was gorgeous, and I caught myself saying period phrases like “this is the bee’s knees.” (The main language spoken on the train is English.)
Over the course of the 30-hour journey (which in our case stretched to 40 glorious hours thanks to rail works and rerouting), there’s blissfully nothing specific to do on the train, nowhere to rush off to, and no need to worry about when you’re arriving—and that’s exactly the point. To paraphrase Emerson, it’s all about the journey, not the destination.
Time is spent hanging out, meeting fellow passengers—who in our case seemed like a cast of Fitzgerald characters, including an award-winning audiobook narrator, two plastics magnates from the Caribbean, an L.A. TV producer, and a multigenerational French family—and relaxing in different areas of the train, from the cabins to dining carriages and the bar car.
We indulged in French-inspired meals in all three vintage dining carriages: the elegant L’Oriental (1927), the Étoile du Nord (1926), and my favorite, the art deco masterpiece Côte d’Azur (1926), with blue panels and original René Lalique glass decorations. I enjoyed the breakfast served that was served in the dining car, a lovely smoked salmon, and we also had breakfast in our suite one morning, which was less formal and featured poached eggs and of course great French bread and butter. Dinners were my favorite, specifically a lobster entrée that like all the other meals was prepared with French precision, with a focus on delicious ingredients executed perfectly.
After dinner, we lingered over champagne cocktails, lobster rolls, and singalongs in the velvety Bar Car 3674, and then retreated to our suite, named Les Montagnes, a restored sleeper cabin with a double bed, sofa, and en suite shower. (Unlike the suites, standard cabins remain true to the 1930s setup, with upper and lower bunks, a washbasin, and a shared bathroom down the corridor.)
Up to 16 carriages roll the rails, occasionally also including the rare L’Observatoire, a vintage car reimagined by artist JR. It’s an entire car that has been transformed into a private suite with bedroom, library, lounge, and circular skylights that is available only by special request. On our trip, it stayed behind.
The throwback train journey begins with a Belmond-provided water taxi ride in Venice from your accommodations to the train station to await the cinematic arrival of the vintage carriages.
Courtesy of Anna T/Unsplash
The route
Our Venice Simplon-Orient-Express train was scheduled to travel from Venice to Verona, Rome, then Chiasso in Switzerland, and finally to Paris. The option to board the train in Rome is a new one for this otherwise classic journey from Belmond. Due to the unpredictability of traveling on secondary tracks (including construction delays, other trains that had priority, and various congestion and train traffic issues), our trip stretched to 40 hours, giving us a more in-depth tour of the Italian landscape.
We departed as the sun rose across the Venetian lagoon and slowly headed south along the Adriatic coast to the quiet beaches of Le Marche, before veering inland across the rolling green hills of Umbria. We made our way through Lazio then to Roma Ostiense, one of Rome’s secondary stations and a formal stop on our itinerary. At the station (and at every station), we’d see the same phenomenon occur each time: people smiling and waving on the platform, taking photos of our gorgeous train. From Rome, we headed north to Pisa for an unexpected full stop as conductors sorted out our new route. No one cared; we were singing Frank Sinatra tunes in the bar.
We slept through the starts and stops, and woke up in Chiasso several hours later than expected. From there we crossed into the Alpine valleys of Switzerland, before skirting through Strasbourg. More delays were announced, and Belmond responded by seating us for a bonus dinner. By the time we arrived at Paris’s Gare d’Austerlitz, it was pitch black, nearly midnight. I felt like I had been on the train for days, not just 40 hours, and I welcomed the extra time in a bygone era.
For the Venice-Paris or Rome-Paris trip, there are no ground excursions or added experiences. And you do not get off the train, unless you really have to. On my trip, two couples got off the train early: one disembarked in Rome due to a nasty flu, and another in Basel who decided, after the extended delay, that home was calling sooner. The rest of us were happy for the extra hours.
The bar car of the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express before the evening scene evolves into cocktail-fueled singalongs
Courtesy of Belmond
How to pack and what to wear
The Venice Simplon-Orient-Express is part rolling gala, part fashion show, for those who like the idea of getting dressed up. You don’t need to pack much, just pack smart. There is a dress code: casual chic by day, formal attire in the evening. Our trip was a catwalk of silks, sequins, boas, stilettos, velvet loafers, and black ties. Evening wear ranged from black-on-black suits à la John Wick to full-length backless gowns worthy of Marlene Dietrich and white Casablanca inspired tuxes. My favorite was the gentleman in the authentic 1930s silk top hat and tails.
Packing is less an art and more of the adage “less is more,” and Belmond provides precise instructions on how much luggage is permitted and the dress code. For a two-day trip, pack an overnight or weekend soft bag. We brought on Away weekender bags and one garment bag, which was enough for three pairs of shoes, one suit, one cocktail dress, and two changes of daytime clothes, plus toiletries.
A fond farewell
Belmond will happily bookend your journey with stays at their hotels in Venice and Paris, but we chose Hotel Castille, a hidden gem near Place Vendôme in Paris, a mix of Italian hospitality and Parisian style, kind of like the train. It was the perfect postscript to the journey, especially since it’s only a short walk to the Musée d’Orsay, Paris’s Victor Laloux–designed train station-turned-art museum. After 40 hours aboard the world’s most beautiful train, of course I’d end up in another station.
