June 20

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June 20, 10:34 AM -- Gare de Lyon, Paris

These trains are nice. The flight across the Atlantic was long and uneventful. The lady to the right of me was a 60-ish woman with a past. Tales of traipsing around Europe in her younger years, visiting Vegas, and being a Rod Stewart groupie. She lives in Qatar but was coming back from her son's high school in, you guessed it, San Antonio. Nice lady. Not terribly entertaining though.

The man to my left was a taciturn businessman. I gathered he was French because he was reading the French section of his newspaper exclusively. The only time I talked to him was after landing to ask the best way to get from CDG to Gare de Lyon . The "RER" he said, then a transfer onto metro route 14. I skipped the metro and decided to walk the remainder.

France is beautiful. I know nothing about architecture but I know it's stunning. Got a good, if brief, look at Notre Dame.

Got breakfast in a cafe outside Lyon. Eggs over easy, bacon, toast, and a croissant. These Frenchmen love their carbs.

The train has left the station, literally.

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June 20, 7:58 PM -- leaving Milan, Italy

That was a little more stressful than I'd hoped. The train ride was great -- shame I was drifting in and out of sleep for the best parts. The French countryside is beautiful. It's a little known fact that "rural southern France" is one of my dream retirement locations, and the train ride did nothing to change that. It was nice seeing collections of 12-20 stone buildings on rolling hills, always with a tall steeple nearby.

The alps were dramatic and breathtaking, naturally.

I declined to eat on the train, expecting instead to eat in Milan before catching the train to Bari. The train arrived in Milan about 50 minutes late, but I figured I still had time to walk to Milan Centrale (different terminus than I arrived) and grab food along the way. I stopped in a little ristorante in a quiet, open roof courtyard. Was immediately served white wine and an appetizer (salmon). I ordered some strange kind of pizza, but it took a while. By the time I got it, I had about nine minutes before departure. I woofed down the pizza, dropped €70 on the table and ran. Made it to the train station just in time. I'm sharing a bunk with some disinterested Italian youth. He was probably thinking the room was all his. Nice try, Marco.

Why is the wait staff in Europe uniformly buff?

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