The thing with the train station

The thing with the train station is that I love it. In fact, I love the trains in general. Before Italy, I think I'd taken precisely one train in my life: the TGV in France to get from Paris to Nice. I don't remember any of it, but I'm told I threw up afterwards. Lovely.

Here, though, I love the trains. I love the departures board - I love looking up and seeing Milano C.le, Bologna C.le, Napoli C.le. Or Salerno, Pescara, Venezia. The places I've only ever heard of on the departures board, like Sassuolo and Guastalla (where are they? does anyone go there?). And the familiar ends of the regionale line, Piacenza and Ancona. I love the self-service machines: defiantly pushing the "Italiano" button and briskly skipping the screen where it warns you about pickpockets (I'm no tourist - I already know what that screen says and don't need to read it again). I love the shiny new regionale to Bologna at 10:46, and I love the feeling of importance that the Eurostar lends to a trip. I love the big schedule, and even more, I love knowing how to read it. I love the announcements and the set phrases and rhythms ("il treno proveniente da ...", "arrivera con dieci minuti di ritardo. Ci scusiamo per il disagio," "Ferma a Modena, Castelfranco Emilia... Forli, Cesena... Falconara Marittima...", "e' vietato attraversare i binari; allontanarsi dalla linea gialla.") In fact, that last is my very favorite and somehow embodies the whole train thing for me. Possibly because it's all I understood the first time I was on the train. Also, there's something completely irresistable about that series of double Ls.

The first time I took the regionale from Bologna to Reggio for an interview (for the job I currently have, actually), I was nervous. It was hot, and I didn't know that the train was going to stop in Modena and Castelfranco before getting to Reggio, and I was scared of being late. On the way back, I was elated. The interview was a success and I was in a train in Italy all by myself!

Then I went to Rome on the Eurostar, by myself again, and felt all grown up and special. Also sleepy, because it was the ass crack of dawn. On the way back it was great, though: I passed through Perugia (where some guy tried to pick my pocket, but I squeaked at him, and apparently that was sufficient to scare him off) and got all proficient with the self service machines, and road the train that goes along the coast on the way to meet my family in Rimini, and it was great.

And now that I live here, the train is part of what makes everything worthwhile. Because on a Saturday morning, you and your colleagues can stroll over to the train station and, after consulting the departures board and someone's lonely planet guide, you can end up in Verona. Mantova. Pistoia, Florence, Ferrara, Modena, Parma. And for minimal cost, too.

I think that's why I feel a little bubble of glee every time I hear that authoritative and reassuring, beautifully cadenced "allontanarsi dalla linea gialla."