7-11-Feb-25 Paris – Dijon – Zurich – Salzburg – Vienna

Off we go again. Sector 2 of the Nottingham to New Zealand trip. This time from Nottingham to Vienna and Montenegro.

Having visited a number of places enroute to Vienna before, it’s a quick whizz through Europe to eat up the miles. It really is a case of…Been there. Seen it. Done it.

Brand new passport in hand am soon through French passport control at St Pancras and settle into Eurostar’s Business Premier lounge. To be accosted by a little old lady. Who asks if my name is Ryant. As am the spitting image of a friend of hers. It’s not. So am not her friend.

That’s three people now who apparently are my spitting image. One is in Brighton. Was in an Indian restaurant in Dublin in 2008 minding my own business when a young lad asked for a photo as I was the spitting image of his mate. Another friend, we’ll call her Miss Dubai, thought she saw me in Vienna at a conference a few months ago. I wasn’t. So another double.

Board Eurostar. To Paris. Bloke in front has plugged his laptop into my socket outlet. So unplug it and tell him to use his own socket. An argument ensues. He’s adamant it’s his socket. It’s not. Although it’s technically installed on his chair it’s at the back of his chair for my use in the seat behind. Steward is called. Steward confirms it’s my socket. His socket is under his arm rest. He apologises profusely.

Journey to Paris marred by an annoying American behind. You know the sort. Typical loud mouthed Yank. His colleagues are across the aisle. You can tell they’re also annoyed by him. Talks non-stop with a voice which grates. And for some inexplicable reason has bouts of singing. Annoying twit. Polite version.

The champagne flows as we whizz through northern France. Becoming a bit of a habit this! But an enjoyable one.

Check in to the 25 Hours Hotel again (www.25hours-hotels.com/paris/terminus-nord/) for an overnight stop. Having decided there were too many connections to go awry in one day and to then arrive Dijon late.

On a previous trip to Paris had enjoyed a very good curry at an Indian nearby. So off I trot. To discover it’s been taken over.

And.

No longer sells alcohol.

I mean. Really?! What sort of restaurant doesn’t sell alcohol.

But.

They can send a lad out to the corner shop to buy me a beer. Or two. Off he goes.

Reminds of the time in a restaurant called Ella’s in Howth, near Dublin, when me old mucker (who is reading this), we’ll call him Mr Cardiff, wanted cider. They took the drinks order for us all. Next minute one of the waiters appeared having been to the local shop to buy their stock of cider.

Waiting for both beer and curry to arrive. Am told a party of 20 is due to arrive. And two tables are laid out. One for 11 people. One for 9 people. At right angles to each other. Except. Only 12 turn up. So one sits on his own at the table of 9. The others take pity on him and squeeze up so 12 are now scrunched up at a table for 11.

Then another bod turns up. So she has to sit on her own at a table for 9 whilst 12 sit at a table for 11. Rather amusing shenanigans.

Decide on the Train Bleu restaurant again for breakfast. Having been for lunch a few weeks ago (see previous blog post). Except. The opulent dining room is not open for breakfast. Only a series of comparatively dull ante rooms and the corridor linking them. So sit in corridor crunching on croissants and drinking coffee.

Only 90 minutes to Dijon. So able to have a few hours in the afternoon pottering about. Home to Burgundy wine, Dijon mustard and the birth place of Gustav Eiffel. Riot police in the main square are lining up ready for a protest by “the left”. Another French protest. Probably about having to work a little bit longer rather than retiring at 62 years old.

197mph and 3hrs to Zurich. Via Basel. Whilst working in Germany years ago, used to spend quite a lot of time travelling in Switzerland at the weekends as was only a couple of hours away. So only a quick overnight stop. And a reminder it’s winter. It’s sub-zero. Knowing how cold it can be in the Germanic countries am properly prepared with full Arctic gear. Not like last time in Spain.

A short walk about the block before catching the train to Salzburg and see some serious health and safety issues on a construction site. See how many you can count in the video below of the scaffolding, dear reader. I know there are a number of you reading this who work in construction!

Nearly 6hrs rail journey to Salzburg. Passing through Alpine mountain scenery. Lichtenstein. Germany. And back into Austria. Only knowing which country I’m in as the phone signal changes operator and receive texts with “Welcome to…”

Greeted at Hotel Goldgasse in Salzburg (www.hotelgoldgasse.at/en/) with a glass of champagne. And a friendly smile. After a long day rocking and rolling on the rails. Jolly receptionist recommends Restaurant Meissl & Schadn. For that well known Austrian dish. Schnitzel.

And by schnitzel. I mean one that is so large it overflows the plate. With French fries. And salad. And beer. Ah yes. A very good end to the day.

Needing to walk off dinner have a meander around Salzburg old town. It’s clear that a Monday night at the beginning of February isn’t exactly peak tourist season. All alone in the town. There’s not much happening.

It’s eerily quiet.

And so very cold.

Final rail journey on this sector is from Salzburg to Vienna the following day. Ensconced in the First Class lounge see a character who has the scruffy appearance of Steptoe (for non-UK readers, Steptoe was a very scruffy scrapman in a 1960s/70s TV series…Google it) enter. He’s on my train. With his shoes off. And socked feet resting on the chair in front. Clearly a little odd. He tells some businessman to shut up who is talking on his phone rather loudly.

As we leave the Alpine scenery behind the landscape gives way to rather flat and boring vistas as we arrive in Vienna.

But a tour of that city will have to wait until the next blog post, dear reader.