Your rail journey from London through the Chunnel to Paris and Brussels just got easier and quicker. Finally, after years of projects that cost billions of dollars, the speedy Eurostar train now departs London from spacious St. Pancras station instead of its cramped and crowded quarters at Waterloo.

The change in stations will speed the trip by about 20 minutes. London to Paris nonstop is now 2 hours, 15 minutes. London to Brussels is 1 hour, 51 minutes.

The best result of the London station change will be a more comfortable boarding process for many of the 8 million passengers a year who use Eurostar to travel under the English Channel.

The Eurostar moves at speeds up to 186 miles an hour. The train is a relaxing, comfortable ride, with an opportunity to eat a first-class meal, to settle into cushioned seats and to stare out big picture windows at telephone poles zipping by in a blur. Sightseeing in not the attraction of fast trains. Better to bring a book or a few magazines.

When you get to the English Channel, there’s nothing to see. The tunnel arrives and departs with such a small whoosh that the only indication of your movement is feeling air pressure changes in your ears.

Once you’ve taken the fast train between London and Paris or Brussels, you may never go back to the hassles of flying such short distances in Europe. Round trip fare to Paris starts at about $160. Check with Rail Europe for Eurostar, other Europe rail tickets and passes.

Unsuitcasing my unmentionables

Alas, my last ride on Eurostar was in October, before the change in London stations. No St. Pancras for me. Like Napoleon (in 1815), I left some of my dignity at Waterloo.

On a busy Friday morning, lines were long and slow at Waterloo’s cramped security checkpoint, where all passengers and suitcases were examined. Don’t know whether it was dumb luck, but my suitcase was flagged. Perhaps the scanner operator questioned all the wires I was carrying for my month in Europe — chargers for computer, camera, two cell phones and a razor, as well as an extension cord, a voltage converter, an external mouse, a surge protector and an extra hard drive for storing photos.

My full suitcase inspection took place next to the moving scanner belt where every other passenger could get a good look at what I packed to wear, to read, to work and to play. The security man removed all of my belongings, examined each and slowly piled them on a table that began to look as if it belonged at a garage sale.   

When he reached my laundry bag, bulging after two weeks on the road, out came my dirty underwear, piece by piece, as well as smelly shirts from hiking and muddy socks from playing golf in the rain.

If I looked nervous that day in London, it was not at the intrusion of the security guy, who for safety’s sake was examining soiled garments and electrical apparati, but at the public unveiling of my mentionables and unmentionables.

Did any other Eurostar passenger care what was in my suitcase? I doubt it, but I thought I heard at least one "tsk, tsk." Should I care what anybody thinks of what I pack? Probably not. But, like Mr. Bonaparte, I will remember Waterloo.

David Molyneaux is editor of TravelMavens.net