I discovered night train(Treno Notte) travel in Italy two years ago, when I took a night train from Venice to Rome. It was a reasonable 7-hour long journey though I wasn't able to sleep properly on my couchette berth due to the constant noise of the running train.
Since then, I chose to take night trains to travel to Milan and most recently to Rovereto from where I took a public bus to reach Garda Lake(Lago di Garda)in Trentino region, north of Italy. There I met a couple of friends who travelled from China. We spent three days to stroll around the lake.
It was my first time to visit Garda Lake, a holiday hot spot in summertime. Right upon my arrival at Garda Lake, I found myself among a majority of German tourists, minority of Dutch tourists and some odd-accent English-speaking old folks. Garda Lake, by nature, is a beautiful creation, a large lake meeting the lower part of Alps, but at the same time a busy tourist destination with countless hotels, holiday apartments, eateries, bars, mini supermarkets, and last but not the least, souvenir shops.
On the night of June 21st, after bidding friends good-bye, I took a public bus from the bus terminal of Garda Lake to Verona train station, from where I intended to catch a night train back to Rome.
By the time I arrived at Verona train station, the ticket counter had already closed long ago, so I had to use the ticket machine. However, I wasn't able to buy a train ticket from the ticket machine which indicated that all the couchette berths as well as cabin seats were sold out. It was an hour before the night train departed. I was in slightly panicking for I didn't want to spend a night in Verona.
I caught sight of two African young women with a little boy running into the station from outside, and they were walking close to where I was standing. I knew I had to ask them for a suggestion. After listening to my explanation, they told me I could buy a ticket in the train which meant I'd be able to leave Verona. I felt at ease without further consideration of what'd happen in the train.
One hour later, we got on the train. The two African women told me to stay with them so that they could help me explain my problem to the conductor if necessary. So I sat in the same cabin with them, which contained 6 seats.We were three women, one little boy and one big tall middle-aged Pakistani man in the cabin. There was room enough for us stretch our legs a bit from time to time.
One of the younger African women was more talkative. I noticed she spoke French to the other one. I asked her if she was from Congo. Instead, she told me another name of a country which I never heard of. She wasn't happy to see the fact that I wasn't aware of her country. But very quickly, she seemed to forgive me about that. She had been living and working in Italy for 11 years. If she had come to Italy at the age of nighteen which is common for her case, she must have been thirty years old by now. The little boy was her son whose father is Italian. I had guessed it earlier for the boy looked fairer than her. She had very shining dark skin. They had to make a trip from Verona, where they currently reside, to her home country's embassy in Rome so they could get a travel visa for her son who holds an Italian passport. This would allow him to visit her home country. There was a Consul General in Milan which is nearby Verona, but visas couldn't be issued there.
The Pakistani man in our cabin was also applying for a visa. He planned to visit England, therefore, he was going to the UK embassy in Rome.
Visa, passport, country boundaries, these things I wish would disappear from Earth. However, I know it simply will forever be a dream.
After running for an hour, the train stopped at Bologna station. More passengers got on the train, Africans, Asians, and Eastern Europeans. The Pakistani man said that all foreigners in this country travelling by train tonight were perhaps getting visas in Rome.
One tall African young man and one Indian slim young man checked their train tickets in front of our cabin. They had gotten tickets issued with seat numbers while I had purchased a ticket in the train without a seat number. I had to move out to the corridor at once.
The nightmare began. Along the narrow and long corridor packed with passengers,either sitting or standing, who had no cabin seats reserved. We could sit next to the windows of the corridor but every now and then we had to make way for conductors, policemen and passengers passing by. I looked up at my watch almost every fifteen miniutes and counted how many hours were left before reaching Rome. At midnight, I couldn't convince myself that I could keep sitting there for the rest of six hours, which would be the longest six hours of my life.
It costed thirty Euros one way from Verona to Rome by night train, meanwhile, double of this price for a couchette ticket. None of these foreigners who work and live in Italy is willing to pay for a berth.They are domestic helpers, construction workers, and gas station employees whose wages are probably lower than most of the Italian citizens'. They choose to take night train for saving daytime to work, also for avoiding to spend money on accommodation in Rome.
At about 4am in the morning, after struggling not to fall onto the corridor floor due to overwhelming tiredness for hours, I couldn't help stepping into the cabin where the African women were. I asked the young one for sharing her seat with me and she immediately made room for me. Her son was sleeping, lying on one seat opposite to us. She was thicker than me, and so I tried to occupy as little space as possible. She had to lay her head on my shoulder and we were very close to each other but avoided to be touched. Sitting still, we could feel each other's body heat. It was just an amazing feeling which comforted me very much under such harsh circumstances.
I managed to doze for an hour or so by sitting with her.
By the time we arrived in Rome Tiburtina train station, I felt it was so unreal. I don't believe I could survive a trip like that for a second time.
Of course, it was a night made me see different things in Italy. The media globally showcases images of trains packed with passengers in Asia, particuliarly in India, and it might bring viewers a big shock if this night train which I boarded would be exposed through a video camera. I was far too torn apart to take one photo/video shot at that moment.
This physically challenging night train trip made me learn two lessons: try to avoid to take the night train, if you have to take one, make a couchette ticket reservation in advance.
Since then, I chose to take night trains to travel to Milan and most recently to Rovereto from where I took a public bus to reach Garda Lake(Lago di Garda)in Trentino region, north of Italy. There I met a couple of friends who travelled from China. We spent three days to stroll around the lake.
It was my first time to visit Garda Lake, a holiday hot spot in summertime. Right upon my arrival at Garda Lake, I found myself among a majority of German tourists, minority of Dutch tourists and some odd-accent English-speaking old folks. Garda Lake, by nature, is a beautiful creation, a large lake meeting the lower part of Alps, but at the same time a busy tourist destination with countless hotels, holiday apartments, eateries, bars, mini supermarkets, and last but not the least, souvenir shops.
On the night of June 21st, after bidding friends good-bye, I took a public bus from the bus terminal of Garda Lake to Verona train station, from where I intended to catch a night train back to Rome.
By the time I arrived at Verona train station, the ticket counter had already closed long ago, so I had to use the ticket machine. However, I wasn't able to buy a train ticket from the ticket machine which indicated that all the couchette berths as well as cabin seats were sold out. It was an hour before the night train departed. I was in slightly panicking for I didn't want to spend a night in Verona.
I caught sight of two African young women with a little boy running into the station from outside, and they were walking close to where I was standing. I knew I had to ask them for a suggestion. After listening to my explanation, they told me I could buy a ticket in the train which meant I'd be able to leave Verona. I felt at ease without further consideration of what'd happen in the train.
One hour later, we got on the train. The two African women told me to stay with them so that they could help me explain my problem to the conductor if necessary. So I sat in the same cabin with them, which contained 6 seats.We were three women, one little boy and one big tall middle-aged Pakistani man in the cabin. There was room enough for us stretch our legs a bit from time to time.
One of the younger African women was more talkative. I noticed she spoke French to the other one. I asked her if she was from Congo. Instead, she told me another name of a country which I never heard of. She wasn't happy to see the fact that I wasn't aware of her country. But very quickly, she seemed to forgive me about that. She had been living and working in Italy for 11 years. If she had come to Italy at the age of nighteen which is common for her case, she must have been thirty years old by now. The little boy was her son whose father is Italian. I had guessed it earlier for the boy looked fairer than her. She had very shining dark skin. They had to make a trip from Verona, where they currently reside, to her home country's embassy in Rome so they could get a travel visa for her son who holds an Italian passport. This would allow him to visit her home country. There was a Consul General in Milan which is nearby Verona, but visas couldn't be issued there.
The Pakistani man in our cabin was also applying for a visa. He planned to visit England, therefore, he was going to the UK embassy in Rome.
Visa, passport, country boundaries, these things I wish would disappear from Earth. However, I know it simply will forever be a dream.
After running for an hour, the train stopped at Bologna station. More passengers got on the train, Africans, Asians, and Eastern Europeans. The Pakistani man said that all foreigners in this country travelling by train tonight were perhaps getting visas in Rome.
One tall African young man and one Indian slim young man checked their train tickets in front of our cabin. They had gotten tickets issued with seat numbers while I had purchased a ticket in the train without a seat number. I had to move out to the corridor at once.
The nightmare began. Along the narrow and long corridor packed with passengers,either sitting or standing, who had no cabin seats reserved. We could sit next to the windows of the corridor but every now and then we had to make way for conductors, policemen and passengers passing by. I looked up at my watch almost every fifteen miniutes and counted how many hours were left before reaching Rome. At midnight, I couldn't convince myself that I could keep sitting there for the rest of six hours, which would be the longest six hours of my life.
It costed thirty Euros one way from Verona to Rome by night train, meanwhile, double of this price for a couchette ticket. None of these foreigners who work and live in Italy is willing to pay for a berth.They are domestic helpers, construction workers, and gas station employees whose wages are probably lower than most of the Italian citizens'. They choose to take night train for saving daytime to work, also for avoiding to spend money on accommodation in Rome.
At about 4am in the morning, after struggling not to fall onto the corridor floor due to overwhelming tiredness for hours, I couldn't help stepping into the cabin where the African women were. I asked the young one for sharing her seat with me and she immediately made room for me. Her son was sleeping, lying on one seat opposite to us. She was thicker than me, and so I tried to occupy as little space as possible. She had to lay her head on my shoulder and we were very close to each other but avoided to be touched. Sitting still, we could feel each other's body heat. It was just an amazing feeling which comforted me very much under such harsh circumstances.
I managed to doze for an hour or so by sitting with her.
By the time we arrived in Rome Tiburtina train station, I felt it was so unreal. I don't believe I could survive a trip like that for a second time.
Of course, it was a night made me see different things in Italy. The media globally showcases images of trains packed with passengers in Asia, particuliarly in India, and it might bring viewers a big shock if this night train which I boarded would be exposed through a video camera. I was far too torn apart to take one photo/video shot at that moment.
This physically challenging night train trip made me learn two lessons: try to avoid to take the night train, if you have to take one, make a couchette ticket reservation in advance.
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