Every year, my company downs tools for a week and decamps to a hotel for a week of training and an internal conference. Usually, if it’s in mainland Europe, that involves flying.
I try to avoid it. I hate the rigmarole of flying. Partly because airports are awful places seemingly designed to induce maximum stress; partly because I’m increasingly concerned about the environmental impact (there’s a case for the Swedish flygskam movement becoming more widespread.)
This year, I worked out a route from London to Palma de Mallorca using The Man in Seat 61’s guide to travelling to Spain by train. The route seemed simple enough:
- Travel by Eurostar from London to Paris;
- Cross Paris to the Gare de Lyon, and take a TGV to Barcelona;
- Take an overnight ferry from Barcelona to Palma.
I left my flat just after 8:15am on Saturday, taking a suitcase and a backpack. I live in Stratford, which means I’m very lucky to have the High Speed 1 service to St. Pancras. Getting to the Eurostar in time to check in was pretty easy, even if the security check was a pain.
The views of Kent from the train window weren’t much to shout about… 
and that’s when there was anything to see at all.