Seven Hours Between the Alps

A train journey aboard the TGV INOUI that takes you from Paris to Milan through a 7 hour long haul of stunning countryside views. 

My solo trip to Paris was incomplete without me practicing my French and finding a train station in a city that pretends not to know English. There’s something humbling about attempting a language in a place that refuses to switch to yours, no matter how desperately your vowels beg for mercy.

“Où est Gare de Lyon?”I asked a seemingly polite looking French man who smiled at my accent. 

He pointed to a board above me, a huge one that read ‘Gare de Lyon’ in big letters that was embarrassingly unnoticeable. It turns out the only thing more invisible than my French was the giant sign I was standing under.

I was supposed to catch my first solo European train. And I went straight for the big stakes. A 7 hour train journey from Paris to Milan. This was my first hard launch into solo travelling. And clearly, I did not get the memo about starting small.

Like a classic pseudo french girl trying to fit in, I made a run for a mini baguette at Pret a Manger before heading to the platforms. With a baguette in my left hand and an archival Chanel magazine in my right, I felt invincibly French and more self-assured to catch my train in time. It was the sort of self-made movie moment every solo traveller secretly scripts for themselves.

I made my way to the escalators, through polite, yet panting exchanges of ‘excusez moi’s, scanned my digital ticket and boarded a fully packed train that was buzzing with a multilingual chatter reminiscent of a foreign exchange college bar. I settled into my seat, which was placed right next to and opposite a group of three British women en route to Italy on a girls’ trip. 

As the train cut deeper into the Alps, my carriage turned into a moving tea party: the British women talked of their eligible sons and their promising young nieces and nephews, while sipping French coffee from the onboard snack-bar. I pretended not to eavesdrop, but mostly I stared out the window at scenery so polished it could have been a Microsoft background circa 2005. Seven hours in one seat sounds like torture, but between the Alps, the gossip, and a steady stream of coffee, I was thoroughly entertained.

Somewhere between talks of family, girlhood, me being folded into British banter and offering them travel tips for Venice in barter, we shared a lingering yet genuine sense of camaraderie that only happens between strangers in transit. 

Travel often focuses on arrivals, but this journey reminded me of the beauty in the in-betweens. The long hours of sitting next to complete strangers who land beside you by sheer fate; the names of towns you can’t pronounce flashing by as stopovers; the periodic snack-bar runs and window-gazing;—these are the small, quiet luxuries you miss when you simply fly. 

Seven hours on a train from Paris to Milan won’t teach you fluent French or turn you into a seasoned backpacker, but it will give you something rarer: the pleasure of slowing down while the continent rushes quietly past your window.

So next time you have the chance to book a ticket for the TGV Inoui, here’s your sign to go for it. Baguette optional, window seat highly recommended.