Mhe dominant memories of crossing countries by train, on a journey from London to Albania, are those of half-empty carriages and the countryside passing by windows bathed in the soft orange glow of the sunset. I remember cypress trees, red-roofed villages with square churches, farmland in neat strips and rows of vines.
During my London-Paris-Chambéry-Turin-Bari-Tirana trip by land and sea, there was, for long periods, not much to do. Wifi was spotty. It took a while to adjust to having so much time to just watch the world go by, traveling through landscapes without having to walk through them.
The biggest stress happened well before I left, when a landslide not far from the French border with Italy blocked the railway line between Chambéry and Turin, causing a closure that continues today. Byway, the no-fly operator I had booked with, offered to reroute me via Nice and to Turin via the Vermenagna valley (with changes at Tende and Cuneo), or to book me on the FlixBus service on part of the Mont Blanc massif. I wanted to see Chambéry and the Alps, so I chose the bus.
People seemed surprised when I told them I was traveling overland to Albania. As I gushed about the romance of slow train and sleeper ferry travel, and my excitement about Tirana, I received comments about being “brave.” I wasn't feeling particularly brave: all the planning, tickets and hotel reservations were done for me, and friendly help was a WhatsApp call away if needed.
All I had to do was download the Rail Planner app for my Interrail pass and make sure I was at the right station at the right time (Turin was the biggest challenge: it has four main stations and taxis screech between them carrying passengers). passengers looking anxious).
The whole trip lasted four days. If I had to do it again, I would stay longer in Puglia, the heel of the Italian boot – and I would think about buying my Paris metro ticket at the Eurostar café.
First day: London to Chambery
First at Gare du Nord in Paris, then by metro to Gare de Lyon, where I head straight to a café opposite the station. Noise permeates the tables at Café Terminus, but the cacophony is delicious – an atmospheric venue for a dried lemon.
I have enough time to take the train to Chambéry and, surprisingly, I am on the upper deck. Soon, we are freeing ourselves from the suburbs to establish immense forest stands. Beyond Lyon begins an undulation of hills, lazy rivers and densely forested slopes. As evening approaches, it's quite an alpine landscape. I arrive at an almost empty station and walk to the store Hotel des Princes in the old town of Chambéry.
Chambéry has an Italian feel – it was the seat of the House of Savoy before the dynasty moved to Turin – and its medieval lanes, cathedral and pastel-colored townhouses are quietly impressive. The 1838 Elephant Fountain sits in the middle of the square closest to the old town, and at the end of each street are the Bauges and Chartreuse mountain ranges. My stay is peaceful and easy.
Second day: ChamberÉry to Turin
From Chambéry, the train to Turin takes around 2.5 hours, but the bus takes twice that. I'm on the upper deck again, which is worth it for the view of hazy fingers of morning light crossing the mountain ridge. Sleepy backpackers wake up to take photos of the isolated peaks of Mont Blanc, before sleeping again in the tunnel leading to Italy. In Turin, the air is scented by flowering trees.
Turin's network of long, straight boulevards bears witness to its development by the Romans – the red-brick Palatine Gate is another Roman relic – and its grand squares, royal palaces and graffiti-covered colonnades date from the city's heyday in Savoy in the 16th and 17th centuries. Today the number one attraction is the Egizio Museum (Egyptian Museum).
My favorite moments? Ricotta and fig ice cream in Piazza San Carlo, a aperitif on Via Sant'Agostino, off the beaten track, and the imposing neoclassical architecture Mole Antonelliana (national cinema museum). I eat the famous Turin pasta padellino pizza (pan pizza) and spend a comfortable night under the eaves of Hotel Urbani in 19th century residential streets, near the large Porta Nuova train station.
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Day three: Turin has Bari
The views from my next train are Tuscan cinematic scenes. Burnt fields, vineyards and Italian cypresses. Neat red roofs and shabby-chic farmhouses. Fluffy clouds cling to the hills that, according to Google Maps, are the Tuscan-Emilian Apennines. After hours of soothing golden scenery, the opal blue Adriatic appears just north of Ancona. The beach bars pass by and the cypresses are replaced by palm trees: I have arrived in the south of Italy.
Bari is hands down my favorite stop. The noise, warmth and energy as we step off the train in the early evening is joyous. After Chambéry and Turin, Bari feels brash, a little rough even around the edges; a real port city. The labyrinthine streets of the whitewashed old town are almost clichéd in their cuteness. Despite the troops of tightly packed, earphone-wearing Americans who follow the tours, the place somehow manages to maintain a tranquil atmosphere.
Old ladies yawn in the shade while tourists surreptitiously take photos and laundry floats off balconies. I could stay forever, but after 24 hours (which includes lots of pasta, a walk along the chic promenade to the not-so-fancy town beach, and a night in a stylish apartment hotel, Zodiacus Residencehalfway between the station and the old town), it is time to board the night ferry to Albania.
Day (and night) four: Bari to Tirana
I arrive at the ferry on foot and am escorted across the car deck to joke about going in the wrong direction (towards Albania, instead of back). Early in the morning, I glimpse a pink sky through the cracked window of my comfortable en-suite cabin and head to the upper deck to see the sun rise over the distant contours of Albania. Disembarking at Durrës port is a bit of a scramble and there's a bus waiting for me to the capital, but I opt instead for a five-minute taxi ride to the city center and a mixed breakfast pastries and espresso on a dazzling white road lined with shops and palm trees. I later regret it, because the air conditioning on the filthy public bus I eventually take to Tirana is more tired than me and deposits me in an urban sprawl miles from the center.
Tirana itself is a revelation. My hotel, Padam Boutique, is a large villa with beautiful rooms and floor-to-ceiling windows, and there is striking new skyward architecture on every nearby street. A few steps away is the landmark Pyramid of Tirana, which is a symbol and monument of change (and fun to climb at sunset). Skanderbeg Square – a jumble of buildings erected on a roundabout during celebrations marking the fall of communism in 1992 – is now a shiny, pedestrianized public space. There are of course nods to Albania's recent and miserable history behind the Iron Curtain – the Bunk'Art and Bunk'Art 2 museums, located in nuclear bunkers, are unmissable – but Tirana and the country are much more than the last century. My trip is over, but I feel like Tirana is just getting started.
The trip was provided by Roadwhich offers sustainable travel and accommodation packages across the UK and Europe. It is Travel from the Alps to Albania costs from £679 per person
