There is something deeply romantic about boarding a night train, settling into your compartment, and waking up in a different country.
The sleeper train from Paris to Venice departs at dusk, gliding out of Gare de Lyon as the city lights begin to twinkle. Inside, the compartments are small but perfectly appointed, with crisp white linens and a fold-down sink.
As the train rolls through the French countryside, dinner is served in the dining car. The menu is simple but well-executed, and the wine flows freely. Fellow passengers share stories of their travels, and the conversation is easy and warm.
By the time we cross into Switzerland, most passengers have retired to their compartments. The gentle rocking of the train is hypnotic, and sleep comes easily. Through the night, the train climbs into the Alps, passing through tunnels and over viaducts.
Dawn breaks as we descend into Italy. The landscape changes from snow-capped peaks to rolling hills dotted with vineyards. By the time we pull into Venice, the sun is fully up, and the city is bathed in golden light. It is a perfect arrival.
