Grenoble to Torino

Because all trips have to start somewhere.

I left home at 3.30pm, ready to take the first few trains: one to Chambéry, then a whole adventure ending in Torino a bit before 10pm. (Good thing summer time started today, or I’d be exhausted.)

Happy Alex with their backpack, small bag, and smile.

This first journey is the biggest hassle I’ll have of the entire trip, at least on paper. (Fingers crossed that nothing decides to beat it.) Because of the landslide between France and Italy last year, the train tracks are still blocked, so from Chambéry, I must take a train, then a coach, then another train. That’s one tram, three trains, one coach, and a little hike at the end, for a total of 6.5 hours spent traveling today.

At least, the train goes through gorgeous places!

I’m embracing the backpacking life more or less successfully. I think I packed way more stuff than I actually need… of course.

Also, my adorable partner made me a sandwich for tonight. Cute and helpful ’til the last minute!

First train is old-school. It’s actually the train I took every morning to go to high school as a teen (same line, although I’m taking it in the opposite direction today). I love the memories.

There’s a climbing wall inside the Chambéry train station. I really enjoy when transit hubs incorporate all kinds of other stuff!

On the bus, while our passports and visas get checked for an awfully long time, I make the first friend of the trip: an adorable Brazilian girl who’s touring Italy for ten days after skiing in France and will then go home. I also take the time to eat my sandwich (I’m writing about an uneventful train journey, every detail matters). It’s very good.

Lesson learned today: keep my sweater on top of the backpack, not in a packing cube that can only be accessed by removing everything else. I am writing this paragraph while waiting for the train in Oulx and trying not to freeze to death.

I am having a good day, though! The journey is long, but the frequent changes (without the stress of having to find where to go next) is a pretty good way of making it feel shorter.

Of course, on arrival, it’s pouring rain and there are no buses (Easter Sunday at 10pm, makes sense). I am exhausted and have money on hand, so I get a taxi and interact, all in Italian, with the chattiest of men, someone who will not slow down for me at all. It’s great: my Italian comes back near instantly and I’m ready to start my Italian week!

The hostel is really nice and clean and the bed is relatively comfortable. But more details will come in another post, which I’ll probably write on the train to my next city and publish later!

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