I’m not entirely sure how this came about, but a while ago some friends and I decided we’d have a Eurovision party in Antwerp.
There was at one point talk of actually going to Italy proper, but we were a bit late thinking about it so instead decided on Antwerp, primarily because my friend has a huge white wall and a video projector. As a bonus, I also get to see an utterly glorious railway station.
This is my life now.
For the 07:50 La Coquille to Paris (via Limoges), we know the routine. I had an early morning start with a frustrating last few minutes behind a wide load on a wiggly road wondering whether I’d get caught at the level crossing. Thankfully I was there with a few minutes to spare before the barriers went down. I have been caught out by that level crossing before and although there is a solution, it depends on La Coquille’s one set of traffic lights not being against you.
It looks as if the SNCF have been doing work along the Limoges – Périgueux line because a lot of trees have gone (they used to gently caress the windows occasionally) and there’s suddenly more of a view. This was also helped by it being daylight, so hurray for summer time!
I might’ve been lulled into a false sense of security by being out of the house at silly o’clock and deciding this gave me sufficient time to nip via the boulangerie first. While this was a risky move, it did mean that somewhere around Issoudun I was able to break out the viennoiseries and coffee and have an early-morning feast. Some strange looks; I brought my own coffee. Beans. And a grinder.
As you do.
Austerlitz to Gare du Nord is a much nicer metro ride than from Montparnasse, and you get to take a metro (5) that emerges mid-air from the front of the station and crosses the Seine on the Viaduc d’Austerlitz. About fifteen minutes later, you’re in the Gare du Nord, ready to find the 14:18 TGV to Lille. Unless I missed them, Gare du Nord is shamefully devoid of places to sit and wait for a train without having to spend money on something to eat.
As is customary, so I can secretly judge people’s picnic skills, I waited for people to bring out their sandwiches and other lunch items before I reached for the wine. I nearly had the cheese, but I bought that for Host so didn’t quite have the heart. In a show of promise the woman in seat 123 redeemed her choice of crisps by producing a tiramisu. I have a new set of travel cutlery — envy me.
The world whooshed past the window and just over an hour later we pulled into Lille Flandres. I had a couple of hours to kill in Lille but decided not to walk to Europe to put my bags into the left luggage lockers because I didnt have that much time. Instead I only wandered as far as I could with a rucksack, roller-case and picnic bag, which was essentially to the opera via the Église Saint-Maurice de Lille (do like a good church), round the Place du Théâtre, past the carillon playing Beethoven 9 at 15:00, and then back to Lille Flandres to get the 16:09 to Courtrais.
Although armed police wandered through the train a few times before it left, people weren’t dissuaded from sitting in first without a ticket, and I soon decided the SNCF obligatory reservation is a very good thing after all. I actually bought the ticket for this leg from the SNCB because it was about 10€ cheaper than buying it from the SNCF (go figure), so if there had been a choice of seat, I’d have seen it. But there wasn’t, and as a result it was something of a free-for-all. Most people got off in Roubaix and then, apart from four enthusiastic children and their indifferent parents, calm was restored.
Belgian trains are not the oasis of calm I was hoping for. I don’t remember this being the case for the last leg of the Extravaganza, but I suppose I was travelling at the end of the day and people were going home from school and work. But anyway.
A few minutes before the 16:58 Intercity from Kortrijk to Antwerpen departed platform four, someone noticed a delayed 16:38 to Brugge had yet to leave, so decided an entire train should scurry to platform two as it was pulling into the station. I found a face-to-face seat opposite a student who with a second-class ticket, and sat there until the train emptied a couple of stops later, then found a solo seat in which to drink my sparkly water.
For technical reasons, there was a quick change at Anvers-Berchem, then we finally arrived at Centraal at around seven, about forty minutes late.
I have seen many photos of this station and pined to see it. On the last leg of the extravaganza, the friend we were staying with gave us the choice of driving us to Rotterdam or driving us to Antwerp. Stupidly, I opted for Rotterdam on the basis that our Interrail pass gave us lounge access, and we could therefore be dropped off at any time, stuff our faces with free stuff, then get on the train to Brussels. That, it transpired, was a huge mistake.
The station is essentially a cathedral to the train. Work started on Anvers-Est in 1895 and continued to its opening in 1905, at which point its name changed to Anvers-Central. There are four levels, one above ground, one at zero level containing shops and ticket offices, and two underground levels, both with tracks. Working escalators quietly usher you up the various levels and as you get to level -1 the magnitude of the train hall is revealed and it took me somewhat by surprise.
The train hall is glorious, but walking through the exit into the the entrace hall (la salle des pas perdus) was something I was not expecting from a railway station.
Sadly, I was in a bit of a rush to get to meet Host so didn’t have much time for oo-ing and aah-ing, but will be going through the station tomorrow on my mad day-long whizz round Antwerp. I’ll have a proper look then.
