Anzac Day, 25^th April 2008, was destined to be quite a dramatic and emotional day.

We were staying at a lovely B&B in the Somme in Northern France. A family farm with nearby walking trails through the fields, which would have been devastated in World War I. Having already checked out the previous night, we had an early start to the day, getting up at 3:30am. Trying not to disturb fellow travellers, we had a very early breakfast which we had somehow organised with extremely limited French language ability.

We drove our hire car to Villers-Bretonneux for the very first Anzac Day Dawn Service to be held there on the 90th anniversary of the battle of 1918, when Australians helped defend Villers-Bretonneux, recapturing the town from Germans on the third anniversary of the Gallipoli landings.

As we arrived in the pre-dawn darkness, we were quite amazed at how many people had also come to attend this memorable service, and parked quite a long way away, joining the silent masses as they walked to the Australian War Memorial. We were very pleased we had visited previously, so could appreciate the vastness of the memorial during the ceremony.

We spent the rest of the morning sightseeing in Amiens prior to returning the hire car and returning by train to Paris, with much anticipation of the overnight train journey from Paris to Venice. From this point, things didn’t proceed as smoothly as planned!

The first sign was that the First-Class Lounge for the night train didn’t open until just a bit prior to departure time. So, having arrived early to fully utilise the luxury we had expected, we had to “hang around”, complete with suitcases, for what seemed like an eternity.

When the time finally arrived to board the train, our carriage didn’t even exist. Not good. Stranded along with several other foreign tourists, it seemed that they just didn’t put the carriage on; it seemed this was a regular occurrence!

Nevertheless, we boarded the train, and in a scene reminiscent of a typical Western, where the saloon doors swing open, the music stops, and all eyes swivel to the newcomers, we were squished into an already over-full 6-berth seating compartment. Considering we had paid a hefty premium for a private 2-berth first-class sleeper, we were not impressed.

Eventually, with our previously mentioned virtually non-existent French language ability but coupled with Tom’s insistence, we were shuffled into a private room, although not first class. We had a 4-berth sleeper to ourselves. After settling in a little, we thought we might have an evening meal in the dining car. Our sitting was supposed to be 9:30pm. Actual eating time? 11:30pm. Menu choice left? Minimal. Not quite the first-class luxury we had planned.

With a previous early morning start, a late night, and lots of waking up during the trip at stops in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere, we had some fitful sleep. There seemed to be dodgy people trying to look into compartments, including an additional “passport check” at one point, which didn’t seem to be quite appropriate. We realised perhaps why we were able to get this compartment: the door did not adequately lock, and it was quite adjacent to the toilets.

As the morning dawned, so did the realisation that someone had actually stolen all my cash – probably during a quick loo trip while Tom was asleep. We had done the right thing on our train trip in China – Beijing to Xian, sleeping with bags/wallets under pillows; that trip had been very early on in our China adventure, and we were alert to potential mishaps. But on this journey, after a long day in France, having finally somewhere to lay down and sleep, somehow that same alertness wasn’t there, and my bag must have been visible. Luckily, the thieves only took cash; credit cards and jewellery were safe! Nevertheless, it was not the welcome to Italy we were expecting.

So, the first place we visited in Venice was the police station. We should’ve taken more notice of the blogger who wrote along the lines that it may as well be part of union rules to have thieves on overnight trains in Europe!

Fortunately, my meticulous budget notes, daily expenses, records of activities and receipts meant that we were able to claim all the lost cash back through our insurance. Journalling saved the day!