Silver Streak

While on was on the Eurostar, my senses being battered senseless by the throng of American school kids all around me, I heard one of their teachers suggest it was like a scene from Silver Streak, that cheesy but watchable movie with Gene Wilder. Of course she then had to give the confused kids a quick plot synopsis for a movie made before any of them were even conceived — it was great to watch as they struggled to understand a murder mystery movie set on a train.

I’m sitting on the Elipsos now, the train hotel from Paris to Barcelona, the scenic overnight way. I do have the feeling I’ve stepped into a cheesy 70s movie, I just need some Wilder-esque big hair and women with huge shoulder pads. I’ve met my companion until Orléans, another Englishman, and he’s gone to try the restaurant. I’m not sure I fancy eating yet — I may switch directly to alcohol and make my way to the bar. The facilities are basic but nice and comfy — I have to keep reminding myself I’m actually on a train. The beds look good and I think the gentle rocking of the train should help me nod off. I’ve certainly had no problem sleeping on trains before, albeit not horizontally. If I can’t sleep I’ll see how much of Hunter S. Thomson’s book, The Rum Diary, I can get through in one night!

I can’t wait to arrive in Barcelona tomorrow morning — it’s an early hour to arrive, but if I find a hotel quickly then I can be exploring the old town by lunchtime. There are so many things on my list, and I’m eager to get photographing the street art there as I did in Paris last year. I’ve only been to Barcelona once, when I was about 14, for one day — this is a chance to experience the city anew and bring home an entirely fresh perspective. It’s going to be a good weekend, I can feel it.