With its opulent dining car and piano bar, the Orient Express evokes the era of luxury rail travel - and, of course, the likes of Hercule Poirot. Just don't expect to be able to swing a cat, writes Frank McNally
A FEW MINUTES out of Ostiense station, in Rome, there was a knock on the compartment door. We were half-expecting Hercule Poirot, joining the train late after a special assignment and wondering if he could have the bottom bunk for the night. Mercifully, it turned out to be only Rupert, our carriage attendant, here to give us a rundown on the accommodation.
It was a short rundown, because the compartments on the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express are very pretty but not big.
The brocaded couch on which we sat would later be transformed into two bunk beds. Apart from that, the main item of furniture was a wood-panelled press in the corner, a masterpiece of compactness, the double doors of which opened to reveal a mirrored washroom with sink, towels, toothbrushes, soap - all monogrammed with the VSOE logo - and a plug for electric razors.
In my eagerness to explore the facilities I opened a second door, presuming it to be the wardrobe. But it proved to be the neighbouring compartment, where, luckily, the inmates still had their clothes on.
Leaving us to dress for dinner, Rupert promised he would return later, in our absence, to set the beds.
Luxury train travel is arguably a contradiction in terms. Beautiful as it is, the Orient Express is still fundamentally a train, with the severe limitations on space this implies. There are no showers on board, and the toilet is opulent but communal, at the end of the corridor.
There are trappings of grandeur everywhere: the pretty lampshade on the reading table; antimacassars on the backs of the seats; monogrammed bathrobes (which, a discreet note advises, you are not free to take home) and slippers (no such note) that allow you to look elegant while tiptoeing to the bathroom, or murdering a fellow passenger, at 4am.
All add to the romance of the experience. But the definitive luxury, perhaps, is the padded ladder to the top bunk, an attempt to soften the realities of vintage rail travel.
But back to the space issue. Some in our group had brought suitcases half the size of their compartments. With six of the trip's seven nights spent in hotels in Rome and Venice, such packing might have been be justified. But in one respect the Orient Express is like an aircraft. Larger cases must be checked in beforehand, to travel cargo. It's hand luggage only on board, a fact that, on a train with a dress code, presents certain logistical problems.
On the eve of our departure from Rome the more organised members of our group began fretting about the challenge of having to quit the hotel in the morning and then board a train in the evening, without a shower, only 45 minutes before dinner.
It was decided we should book a hotel room for an hour or two in the evening, so that people could freshen up and change in comfort.
This quickly became two hotel rooms. By morning, inflation of the kind that used to afflict the lira had set in, so that no fewer than four rooms were on standby. In the event these went largely unused. Most people decided to board the train in civvies and improvise as best they could.
At 8.30pm, somehow, they all emerged from their cosy quarters transformed. The code stipulates only that gentlemen wear a tie. (Refuseniks may be asked to dine in their compartments.) But some had packed tuxedos for the occasion. And a few women went the whole hog and turned out in Roaring Twenties flapper gear.
Dinner was preceded by aperitifs in the bar, where a pianist on a black-lacquered baby grand provided appropriately soothing music as you handed over €13 for a Baileys on ice. Then it was on to the dining car, where men in white coats served the four-course dinner.
On nights when the train is full there are two sittings, at 8.30pm and 10.30pm, which hardly makes for relaxation. But the night we travelled, last month, every passenger could be accommodated in one session, which continued until after midnight as the train hurtled north through Livorno and Pisa en route to Venice.
It was a seductive experience. After an hour or so in the dining car the illusion of 1920s rail travel was so complete that one resented the sight of the autostrada, with its 21st-century filling stations, that occasionally intruded through the windows.
The food was simple but delicious. A ham-and-vegetable confection in light pastry was followed by a main course of fillet steak with tarragon and tomato sauce. Then there was a cheese board, including a local speciality accompanied by fruit and honey.
Dessert was an iced meringue with fine chocolate flakes. And, finally, there was coffee and a breath-taking digestif - after serving which our Veronese waiter, Gianpirlo, a natural comedian, lingered to entertain the carriage. This probably wouldn't happen on a night with two sittings, either.
I heard one diner grumble afterwards that the food was not five-star. But most of us could not fault it, especially considering that the chefs, like everybody else, were working in a tight space while rattling along a railway track. Nobody had asked how we wanted our steaks done (they were medium all round), we noticed afterwards. That was the only apparent concession to the difficult working conditions.
After dinner it was back to the bar, where the piano and the drinking continued into the small hours. For the less hard-living, the compartments, now dressed for bed, awaited. Either way, a good night's sleep is another comfort not guaranteed on the Orient Express, which is authentically noisy enough to keep you awake half the night unless you packed earplugs.
Purists may protest that the "real" Orient Express never departed from Rome, which is true - it ran from Paris to Giurgiu, in Romania, via Strasbourg, Vienna, Budapest and Bucharest. But you would need the help of Monsieur Poirot to decide what is a genuine Orient Express trip and what is not. It seems that, during the era to which the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express pays homage - the years between the two world wars - several versions of the train plied different routes between Paris and the Balkans.
The carriages now used did not necessarily come from any of those, however. And the last genuine vestige of the original 1883 service - the only regular passenger service that retains the Orient Express name - still runs nightly between Strasbourg and Vienna, with no hint of luxury. So it's probably best not to get hung up on the questions of authenticity and accept the VSOE for what it is: a lovingly restored tourist train.
In the absence of a murder, the big mystery on the Rome-Venice version of the Orient Express was how the journey could last more than 14 hours when you can do it in 4½ on a regular rail service. After all, even a tourist train has to use the same tracks as the other ones do, so it can't loiter. And, indeed, despite taking a longer coastal route, the engine already had us halfway to Venice by the time we finished dinner.
A popular assumption was that the driver would pull into a siding later for a few hours. But on the several occasions it woke me during the night, the train was still hurtling forwards, its urgency undiminished. Despite which, when Rupert knocked again in the morning, asking us to vacate the room briefly while he folded away the beds, we were still only in Bologna.
Over a packed breakfast tray in our compartment we consulted the maps - and the penny dropped. The train had done a big lap of Tuscany during the night, taking us from Florence back to Rome and then north again by the coastal route before continuing to Venice. For the sheer decadence of it, the Roaring Twenties could not have done better.
Go there Frank McNallywas a guest of the Travel Department (www.thetraveldepartment.ie), which organises a range of escorted holidays to European destinations built around a journey on the Orient Express.
The next departures are on August 21st, for the nine-day Innsbruck, Paris and the Orient Express trip. The package includes six nights in Innsbruck, a night on the train and two nights in Paris, with accommodation in four-star hotels, escorted tours and a four-course dinner on the Orient Express included in the price of €1,899.
Also departing on August 21st is an eight-day holiday featuring Lake Garda (six nights) and Innsbruck (two nights), with a day-long trip including lunch and afternoon tea on the Orient Express. It costs €1,569.
Other upcoming holidays include an October 1st departure, Lake Garda, Rome and the Orient Express. The trip lasts seven days and costs €1,299.
Orient Express etiquette
• Men are expected to wear a jacket and tie to dinner (but make it a light jacket, as the dining car can get very warm during a four-course meal) and at least smart casual clothing elsewhere on the train outside your compartment. There are no rules for women except that they should dress respectably.
• A robe and slippers are provided for trips to the bathroom during the night. Avoid scandalising the other passengers by sauntering down the passage in your underpants. And don't steal the monogrammed towels, robes or slippers in your cabin. Well, okay, maybe the slippers. Any other souvenirs can be bought in the train shop.
• Mobile phones should not be used in the dining car or bar and should be used quietly anywhere else.
• Tipping is discretionary. For the restaurant staff, 10 per cent of the bill (even if you're on a package deal, the prices are on the menu) should suffice. The cabin attendant is a more complex issue. But at least €20, on the berth when you leave, is decent.
• Don't overdo the photographs. Train staff expect you to take some and will happily do so for you if necessary. Just know when to stop.
• For practicality rather than etiquette, travel light. Or, if that's not possible, you should check in any baggage you don't need for the train journey at the railway station. The compartments are tiny, even without a big suitcase.