I can name, off the top of my head, the few instances I have experienced a romanticised ideal of life. Granted, a little over two decades is barely any time to fully comprehend the concept of celebrating human sentiments, but I would like to think that I have somewhat understood vestiges of it. Sometimes, romance lies within blooming flowers in the midst of spring, or an aged book enjoyed alongside a glass of negroni. The pinnacle of romance, for someone who is barely an adult, is Solaire Journey, and it is a bar set so high that I doubt it will change for many years to come.
For me, who has only ever seen trains in popular media, the Belmond train has always been mystical, more ethereal than corporeal.
Picture the scenario: a large group of strangers, spending prolonged time together housed in carriages, only bound by the same destination. It is quite romantic to think that the last stop is forever stationary, but the journey varies. The stories vary.
The journey I embarked on was a notch more special. Hosted by the luxury champagne label Veuve Clicquot, it is aptly called the Solaire Journey. Beyond the glistening golden hue of the aged bubbles, the title seems befitting for a house that honours the spirit of its founder, Madame Clicquot herself. After all, what better way to celebrate such an audacious and innovative woman than the pursuit of the sun itself? Much like the star, Madame Clicquot is emblematic of the brand, with a legacy surpassing generations of winemakers. The journey with Eastern & Oriental Express is a fine reflection of her: bold, creative, and magnificent.
Beginning its journey in Singapore, the train took us on a trip all around Malaysia, with a few pit stops in between. As someone who rarely opts for a train — much less anything a fraction as luxurious as the Belmond train — it took me a while to adjust to the motion. My first afternoon was spent largely tumbling around and figuring out my balance, a feat that I was quite pleased about. Yet despite the occasional slips and bumps against the polished wood, I found myself unable to forego my heels.
Well, we are talking about Belmond here. Everyone dresses to impress, and I am not one to shy away from the chance to live out my whimsical dreams.
There was an inexplicable charm to the train. I could not quite fathom if it was the rustic, emerald green velvet cushions paired with the brass accents, or the constant swaying and jostling of the cars as the train zooms past the dense Malaysia jungle. Perhaps it was the magic that I felt sitting in the car, in a room of people I would never have imagined to cross paths with, many of whom flew from across the globe just to have a taste of such opulence. Amidst the chatters, glasses filled with liquid pink and gold clinked, marking the joyous trip.
For the most part, it felt like I was living a fever dream, the kind that one would experience on the cusp of slumber. The trip, which stretched across four days and three nights, was like a mirage, picturesque scenes blending into one another, like a great vivid dream. Reading this, you might think I am exaggerating.
Yet, it is on this train that I could enjoy afternoon tea with Jean-Marc Gallot, CEO of Veuve Clicquot, rather casually too. “There will never be another Solaire Journey after this,” Gallot had said over his espresso, much to my surprise. “This will only happen once.” He shared how the house only works towards newer, better ideas, and hence there will never be a redo of this magical train journey.
That conversation put into perspective then, that it took some sort of miraculous coincidence for me to be onboard. Some might call it fate, or destiny, but perhaps that is the charm I have tried to put into words. The idea that this is, truly, a once in a lifetime experience.
It is also on the train that I had my first taste of an outstanding epicurean experience courtesy of Taiwanese Chef André Chiang. Across the span of the journey, he had come up with menus inspired by the journey from West to East. Fellow Singaporeans might remember his former restaurant, Restaurant André, famed for its exquisite French Nouvelle fine-dining, nestled in Bukit Pasoh. The restaurant had closed its doors for some time now, but what luck it was for me to now sample his masterpieces while listening to Chinese jazz, accompanied by a selection of vintage Veuve Clicquot.
There are not quite any words to describe the variety of the dishes, let alone the complexity.
Each meal was tailored with a specific journey in mind, and each part of said meal was complemented by either a champagne or rosé, carefully curated by Veuve Clicquot’s Cellar Master Didier Mariotti. Certainly, La Grande Dame was one of the most memorable ones, but I could never truly get over the 1989 Cave Privée Rosé. It was a sweet and complex blend, having matured with its age. It was also rather surreal to taste something older than myself, but its layered notes of cocoa and sweet fruits brought me to a time where summers were much more dreamy.
A journey to Malaysia would not be complete if we did not experience the warmth of Southeast Asian summer. I enjoyed excursions to the Taman Negara National Park, spending the morning being greeted by the cool crisp breeze before trying my luck in spotting the exotic faunas native to the country. I can still recall colourful birds in the distance and the echoing trills of gibbons. The surreal notion that I am co-existing with them within the same region was mesmerizing.
I also spent a day in Georgetown, Penang, a city I am not unfamiliar with. It was why I had opted to partake in a culinary class, an attempt to broaden my repertoire. The class was held atop Penang Hill, in the luxury colonial home Eythrope. Enjoying a Peranakan lunch with a breathtaking hilltop view of Georgetown was not something I had dreamed of doing, but it seemed that this trip was meant to make the wildest of dreams come true.
I would have stayed for much longer, if given the chance to. At the break of dawns and under the late-night stars, I had cozied in my Pullman cabin, which I had requested to be transformed into bunk beds for my rest — just something I had wished for that extra touch of romance. I quickly grew fond of the green tea they would serve on afternoons, as I was engaged in simple chats with many strangers, soon to be friends. With karaoke evenings and classical piano performances, I was never short of amusement on this moving carriage.
Within the Eastern & Oriental Express, time seemed to stand still. Even as the sun rose and set outside, the idea of time inside felt more fluid. Was it the magic of the train, or was that my recount after having one too many glasses of champagne? I doubt I will ever find an answer to that. What I do know is that for the many more bubbles that I will taste in the coming years, each will bring me back to this golden summer.
