The 14:15 to Barcelona

We arrived at Gare de Lyon about an hour prior to boarding our train for the Spanish city. It would be our first time traveling by TGV train. I was a bit excited about the possibility of traveling by train at the speed of 200 mph. We found our car, or rather coach, in short order and stowed our backpacks before finding our seats. The seats looked comfortable. Our other two bags went in the overhead area. I kept my tablet out as well as a small plastic bag of food we had purchased. The seats were very reminiscent of airliner seats. They were upholstered in fabric color coordinated with the interior of the coach.  I found myself looking for a seatbelt. Claudette allowed me to chose the window seat.   As I was adjusting my seat I felt the train move. These electric trains accelerate rather quickly, with the low frequency whine rapidly increasing to the frequency of a siren. But, of course, the sound is not very loud.

I watched as Paris soon disappeared, and the rural French landscape appeared.  As the landscape sped by, I sad to Claudette, “The TGV trains are considered very  modern, although their basic design is over 50 years old. They were originally designed to be powered by gas turbine engines, but the high price of oil predicated the change to electric power.”  “That must have been when Jimmy Carter was president and we had those long lines at the gas pumps,” she said.

“The French have made quite a few improvements in the power system over the years. One special

train was built to set a speed record for trains. It had special motors, and the voltage was increased for its record run of 357 mph.”  I knew I was impressing her with my knowledge.

“It will only take  only 6 hours and 15 minutes to reach Barcelona from Paris.” Now she was impressing me with her knowledge.

“You remember  the tour guide at Canterbury told us that in the UK people don’t fly to Europe from the UK any more; they prefer the train.” She nodded in agreement and began reading from her cellphone. Soon, she would be deeply involved in a Jack Noble novel.

In each carriage is a video screen indicating stations along the way as well as the speed of the train. Of course the speed was posted in kilometers per hour, but it was easy to convert. (0.621 times kilometers per hour equals miles per hour) We reached 300 kph which is about 187 mph. I could not help but remember another fast train I had seen, the number 999 steam locomotive in the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry. It was the first land vehicle to reach 100 mph. The TGV trains had more than doubled that speed in about 100 years. A specially modified train reached a top speed of 357 mph.

The ride is quite smooth. The seats, though comfortable, could be a bit wider. I’ve never eaten my lunch while traveling at 180 mph on the ground before. The sandwich and fruit purchased at at Gare de Lyon filled the bill, although food is available on the train. The aircraft style tray is quite handy. Each coach has its own restroom about the same size as that of a Boeing 737 airliner. There is little noise inside the coach except for the passengers. A group of four behind us laughed and talked loudly.  Probably on their way to Barcelona. Their constant chatter was either Spanish or Catalan; I couldn’t determine which. Across from us a man was working on a crossword puzzle. He was probably about forty with fairly close cropped hair showing a few streaks of gray. His suit fit his athletic frame well. The pale blue button down collared shirt he wore was open at his throat. Although he was working on the puzzle he seemed to be aware of everything going on around him.  Could he have been a spy? Or maybe some Jason Bourne type? There are some things best left unknown. The lady next to him was about the same age or maybe younger and looked like she had stepped out of a fashion magazine. Her dark brown hair  was pulled back and tied with a silk scarf at the nape of her neck. She had high cheekbones, a straight nose and thin lips with a perpetual smile. Her eyes were hidden by black rimmed sunglasses.  She was reading The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins. I nudged Claudette and pointing said, “Wasn’t that the book we were listening to from Audible?”

She shrugged and remarked, “Yes, the girl telling the story is an alcoholic.” She returned her eyes abruptly back to her book. She did not like being interrupted.  

We settled in for the journey. About midway we had our lunch. We had bought a sandwich on a baguette with ham, cheese and tomato. Butter for spread, no mayo. Claudette didn’t care for the ham, which was like cured bacon uncooked. Bottled water was our beverage of choice for this meal. I liked the sandwich, although baguettes by nature have a tough, crisp crust.

As we neared Barcelona the train made several stops. The man who looked like a spy was asleep, and the fashion plate was still reading. An elderly woman was playing peekaboo with the two year old in the seat in front of her. Stops were fairly close together so the train could not reach top speed between stops.  We disembarked after grabbing our bags and quickly found a cab. Soon we were at our hotel on the most famous street in Barcelona, La Rambla.