When it became obvious I’d have to attend the sale of Casa Marconi in person, the main reason I told myself and everyone else I planned to complete the round trip from Santa Luzia to Rome and back over land (and sea, as it turned out) was to avoid airport customs checks. I’m only allowed to leave Portugal once until my resident’s card is granted in May and I didn’t want to risk my passport being stamped.
That was true. But I suspect I also wanted the challenge of getting an Interrail ticket and travelling half way round the Mediterranean and back via Barcelona, Lyon and Milan – a kind of mad, valedictory last tour.
It did occur to me that I could have travelled the other way round the Med, via Tangiers, Algiers and Sicily. Maybe next time…
The blue dot on the map is me nearing the end of the trip – whizzing at 300 kph towards Seville, a couple of hours away.
Lottie’s new dogminder Happy Tails luckily had a cancellation and I’ve been able to travel dog-free. Lottie has been having a fabulous time and I’ve been getting regular updates about her and her new friends.
Because I’d originally assumed I’d be travelling with Lottie, I’d planned accordingly and followed the advice of the Man in Seat 61, who writes enticingly of lunch in Lyon, flamingos near Montpellier after Barcelona and the train ride over the alps to Milan, glossing over any potential inconveniences.
Day 1 – Santa Luzia to Seville
Not having Lottie allowed me to take the bus from Tavira main bus station to Seville, where my train trip would start. The bus station is confusingly referred to on the ticket as the Central de Camionagem – literally the trucking station. After a bit of Googling to make sure it really was the main bus station (the kind of fact-checking I seem to spend half my time doing in this new country), everything went smoothly and I was in Santa Justa station in Seville under 2 hours later. Sadly Jack was away at a stag weekend in Barcelona but I was quite happy to entertain myself.
One of the disadvantages of Interrailing in Spain is that you have to buy the seat reservations in person at a Spanish railway station, while most seat reservations in other countries can be bought on-line. I quickly got this sorted at Santa Justa before grabbing a taxi to my Airbnb.
Unlike my Interrail trip last year, some of my trips this time weren’t covered by the Pass. These included the cross-border trips on the FrecciaRossa from Lyon Part Dieu station to Milan and back again. I bought those direct from Trenitalia. Which was lucky as it turned out because it meant they had my email to inform me that my Lyon-Milan train had been cancelled due to the general strike in France.
A quick bit of research showed me that France was a no-go area for the next 2-3 days, so I quickly changed plans and booked the ferry from Barcelona to Rome (or its port, Civitavecchia) two days hence. I’d still be in time for the appointment with the notary. My hotel in Milan kindly refunded me and I could claim the cancelled ticket price back – so I hadn’t really lost out.
I wasn’t looking forward to travelling on the Grimaldi ferry (grim being the operative word), but at least I didn’t have Lottie or the car to worry about, as I did last summer.
That sorted, I kicked back and enjoyed my evening in Seville over a beer and a few tapas.
Day 2 – Seville to Barcelona
In the morning, I walked the mile or so to Santa Justa. I figured I needed the exercise as I’d be sitting on a train all day. I caught the RENFE train at 8.50 and was in Barcelona nearly 1000 km away by 14.20.
I was even in time to catch Jack, slightly worse for wear after his stag weekend, for a late lunch before he caught his flight back to Seville.
Day 3-4 – Barcelona to Rome
I checked out of my hotel as late as I could as my ferry wasn’t until the evening. I left my bags at Barcelona Sants station, then caught the metro to Plaça de Catalunya and killed the next couple of hours doing an open-topped bus tour. I’ve done that a few times in Barcelona. It’s hardly ground-breaking tourism but a relaxing way to kill time and always good to see the Sagrada Familia and Gaudi’s other Modernista masterpieces.
Once I’d had lunch at the rooftop restaurant at El Corte Inglés, wandered round a couple of shops including a well-stocked Uniqlo (there are three in Barcelona), it was time to get the metro back to Sants, pick up my bags and take a taxi to the port.
The ferry was full of excited Italian school-kids aged about 15. In fact the whole vessel had been commandeered as a kind of floating classroom with a full programme of events and a strict rota in the self-service restaurant.
I managed to keep away from all the excited teenaged scurrying around by relaxing in my cabin. It took me so long to find in the warren of other randomly numbered cabins, I was actually scared I’d never find my way back to it if I left it. Luckily I had food and water.
All things considered, the trip went much better than last August and I hereby take back my previous description of the Grimaldi ferry as a rustbucket.
The ferry arrived in Civitavecchia exactly on time and I was soon on the train to Stazione Termini.
I checked into my run-down hotel near the station and ventured out to a nearby restaurant for a plate of Fettuccine alla romana. The pasta, the carafe of vinegary white wine and the ancient hotel lift were all relics that would have been familiar to me when I first arrived in Rome over 40 years ago.
Stazione Termini, on the other hand, has changed out of all recognition. It’s full of wonderful pop-up food stalls and shops and you can happily spend a couple of hours wandering about.
Day 5 – Rome and the house sale
I spent the morning salivating over the stalls in the Mercato Centrale food hall at Stazione Termini.
Then it was finally time to take the well-worn route to Capena via the metro to Flaminio station, suburban train to Saxa Rubra station and bus to Capena. I’ve described the route to countless Casa Capena guests and I won’t be sorry never to have to do it again.
The estate agent took me to the notary’s and sat in on the signing. It was a very friendly affair with a big group of us good-naturedly swapping WhatsApp numbers and utility bill details while signing bits of paper shoved in our direction by the notary.
I confess to being just a little bit disappointed that no parrots were involved, as there were when I sold Casa Galilei nearly a year ago.
After that, it only remained to repair to my seedy hotel to celebrate with a selection of pizza from the Mercato.
Day 6 – Rome to Milan
The French strike seemed to be over as I hadn’t been informed that my cross-border train to Lyon had been cancelled, so I took the train to Milan as planned.
That night I met up with Liz in Milan. I got to the restaurant late as there were no taxis. I later heard it was something to do with protesting because of someone getting stabbed, though there were also anti-Uber placards at the taxi rank. In the end I got a bus.
We went to a Pugliese osteria I Vecchi Sapori where the owner kept plying us with delicious dishes and wines until we missed the last bus home. I had no luck calling a taxi, then called an Uber and it was there in a trice. Go figure.
Day 7 – Milan to Valence TGV and a setback
Somehow I got myself out of bed in time to catch the 6.25 FrecciaRossa to Lyon Part Dieu. I had a 3 hour stopover there that was supposed to be filled with a charming visit to a brasserie for the much-anticipated lunch in Lyon (according to the Man in Seat 61). Instead, the station was a dispiriting uninspired mess undergoing renovation.
I exited through the door that seemed to offer the least bad prospects and took refuge in a grimy Subway.
I thankfully departed Lyon (the departures hall was in a much better state than the arrivals side). This 45 train ride took me to Valence TGV station where I would pick up the train to Barcelona on its way from Paris Gare de Lyon.
I had another 2-hour wait at Valence, but it flew by because the station was well equipped with workspaces and charging points. I pulled out my laptop and did a bit of work to while away the time.
At last the 17.09 train appeared on the departures board, but it was terminating at Montpellier, not Barcelona! The French strike was still affecting trains and because my reservations had been made through Interrail and not the actual train operator, I was none the wiser.
The people in the ticket office at Valence TGV were very helpful. They issued me with a new seat reservation for the Barcelona train at midday the following day and pointed me in the direction of the nearby Ibis Styles hotel, which fortunately had a room, a bar and a restaurant.
I spent a while planning a different route on my Interrail app, and it soon became clear that I could catch up with my original plan by travelling all of the 1500 km to arrive in Seville the following day. The problem was that the new Barcelona-Madrid, Madrid-Seville trains I’d need weren’t covered by my pass. It was either pay up or wait another day.
I’d already wasted my hotel reservation in Barcelona (they didn’t take pity and refund me) and there didn’t seem any point in wasting my Seville reservation too – even though I’d barely be able to enjoy my Ritual Suites apartment as I was arriving at midnight. So the best choice was to pay up and brace myself for 12 hours of travel.
Day 8 – Valence TGV to Seville Santa Justa
After a good night’s sleep and breakfast, I hauled myself over to Valence TGV station again and was mightily relieved to see the Barcelona train on the departures board.
It turned out that the nice people in the ticket office had put me in a first class carriage and the Wi-Fi was great, so I settled down with my laptop to finish off a couple of small jobs.
Another advantage of doing the trip by daylight was seeing the flamingos on the coastal marshes between Montpellier and Perpignan.
I had an hour’s wait at Barcelona Sants, but when you factor in having to go through airport-style security checks to get into the departures hall, it only allowed time for a quick bite to eat.
The Barcelona-Madrid train tore up the distance, travelling at 300 kph all the way. The last of the daylight showed the impressive landscape, so familiar from spaghetti Westerns.
We were soon in Madrid Atocha station with its vast, impressive spaces.
An hour later and another airport-style check later, I was on the train to Seville.
Everything had gone so well, I pushed the boat out and got a paper cup of Rosé.
Soon we were pulling into Seville Santa Justa exactly on time after another smooth 300 kph trip.
Then it only remained to meet up with Jack for a midnight nightcap, snatch a little sleep at my hotel and catch the bus back to Tavira the following morning. Mission accomplished.
