I can even feel virtuous. ‘Congratulations,’ my ticket tells me: ‘By choosing the train you have helped save the planet from CO2 emissions.’ It gives examples. Travelling from Naples to Milan I am responsible for emissions amounting to 31.
But 31 what? It doesn’t say. Presumably 31 bad things. By car I’d have emitted 76 bad things, by plane 115. It doesn’t say whether we’re talking about full planes or empty planes, full cars or empty cars. It doesn’t say if it makes any difference whether I travel in first class or second. The important thing is that I feel virtuous – wealthy and virtuous – like those old Renaissance bankers. Isn’t this what it means to be bourgeois, after all? A state of mind invented in Florence in the fifteenth century: the virtuous, forgivably self-satisfied businessman. While those bankers spent vast sums building splendid churches and commissioned fine paintings, we save on CO2 emissions and make our small contribution to one of the most expensive railway lines in the world. Either way the money is not going to a lot of people who might feel they have a better claim to it. The same was said of the Medicis and Strozzi’s lavish spending on their grand palazzi.
In any event, it must have been all this ease and sophistication that led to my last and greatest bust-up with a capotreno. I hesitate to tell the tale, since I come off rather badly, and perhaps the reader feels he has had his fill of capotreni. But this was a truly defining moment, both of my relationship with Italy and of my understanding of the new Trenitalia. I shall tell it, and then promise you there will be no more. It will be an easy promise to keep, since this was the bust-up that ended all bust-ups. I will never again allow myself to be drawn into an argument with a capotreno.
Basically, the unforgivable mistake I made was to act like a privileged Freccia person on a proletarian Regionale; I tried to mix the two worlds. But let me explain.
Until the summer of 2012 you could only buy Trenitalia tickets online for fast trains on which booking was obligatory. The Regionale or Regionale Veloce tickets had to be bought in the station, were valid for two months, and needed to be stamped on the day of travel. The Intercities had been pretty much phased out at this point, at least up north. So when I returned to my humble Porta Vescovo life, I was still having to deal with the idiocy of ticket machines and ticket windows. Imagine my surprise and delight, then, when sometime in spring 2012 I discover that you can now buy regional tickets online. There has been no advertising campaign for this, mind you, no overt encouragement to use these cheap trains, just that all of a sudden, while checking the online timetable, I notice that there is now the little circle you have to click to show that you want to buy online. Of course you have to specify your train, time and date, which are then indicated on the PDF they send you, and the ‘ticket’ is considered as already stamped and valid only for that train. So no two months for usage, but who cares if I can buy so easily only minutes before a train departs? I bought my Regionale Veloce ticket at once and put it in background on my laptop for display to the inspector exactly as I always do when travelling the frecce.
Yep, this is truly fantastic; I patted myself on the back, heading for the station. Very soon I shall have to stop complaining about Trenitalia, which actually offers me a wonderful service at very reasonable prices. I’m a lucky man. I like trains, I live in a country that has trains, and at the highest level people are working hard to make those trains easier for us all.
I salute them.
I even salute the mad new announcement they have recently introduced to replace the old warning that a train is arriving:
‘Trenitalia Regionale Veloce 2106 proveniente da Venezia Santa Lucia e destinato a Milano Centrale arriva e parte dal binario quattro.’
‘Trenitayliah Fast Regional 2106 from Veneziah Santa Luciah with terminus at Milanoh Sentralay arrives and departs from platform four.’
Arrives and departs!
Who thought of this? If the train arrives at platform four, could it depart from anywhere else? It seems that high-speed technology, Internet connections and general modernity in no way inhibit a flare for the absurd.
So I board my train, which does indeed arrive and depart from platform four. Thankfully, I find a seat at once, in second class; I am sitting next to some diligent young students, all bent over their books. Remembering that there is no electricity supply in this train, I decide to write down my ticket code, just in case my computer should run out of battery. I find a scrap of paper in my bag and jot it down: PCWNG2. Again I am filled with pleasure and a deep complacency at the thought that after twenty years I am now entirely free of Trenitalia ticket lines and ticket machines. I can always buy online for every train. I am master of the situation, empowered, in control of my life.
The ticket inspector arrives shortly before Peschiera. ‘Is there anyone’s ticket I haven’t seen?’
What a friendly way to approach his clientele! Presumably he has already checked this carriage before I got on and so is simply asking if anyone has boarded since he last checked.
