Day 60 — Six hours late and one of us on the train

We packed our bags the night before, knowing it would be an early start.

We had coffee, grabbed the bags and were in the town square by 07:20. Together with a group of school children we got onto the bus and started the winding descent towards Taormina. Once all the school goers had been dropped off, we carried on down to the station.

Caro thinks Taormina-Giardini is the prettiest train station she has ever seen, and took more photos. She is not alone in thinking so. It was built between 1926 and 1928 in the Liberty style, the Italian version of Art Nouveau, and the inside was decorated by Salvatore Gregorietti, one of the big names of Palermo Liberty. It is regularly called one of the most beautiful stations in Italy.

While we waited, Hugo’s workday started. Our train left at 09:30 and we had a table, so he could work while Caro listened to her audiobook and watched the coast go past. We were booked to reach Naples at 16:15.

We had packed pizza leftovers — a very handy next-day lunch — along with chips, biscuits and a lot of water.

It wasn’t long until the ferry crossing. We had been looking forward to this since the start of the trip. The Strait of Messina is the only place left in Europe where passenger trains still travel by sea: the train is split into sections and rolled straight onto the ferry. It happened so smoothly we almost didn’t realise it was going on. Once you are aboard you can get out and go to the food kiosk, go up to the viewing deck, or just stay in your seat for the crossing. We took turns going up for a look before coming back to the train.

We had finally made it to the tip of the Italian boot.

We had just finished our lunch when the train stopped at Lamezia Terme and we were told it was going no further. Everybody off, and onto another Intercity.

By now we were used to the routine: a long announcement in Italian, then one sentence of English with the bare essentials. For everything else you watch what the Italian passengers are doing and follow. So when everyone started running for the platform one over, we grabbed our bags and ran too. After the scramble for two empty seats next to each other, we realised that train had been standing there for a while already and they had simply combined the passengers of the two trains.

There was a lot of talking going on around us in Italian, and from the hand gestures we could tell nobody was happy. People darted in and out trying to get information and came back to retell what they had heard. About thirty minutes in, an announcement said there was a problem and that they thought it would be a 200-minute delay. The Polish tourists sitting behind us found a train attendant. She said that if it were her, she would try to get to Paola and catch another train from there. The other option was to wait and see what happened. And no, sorry, they were not providing bus transport to Paola.

We decided to settle in and wait. Hugo carried on working and Caro took out her watercolours and painted a picture.

After a long while Caro went to see what was going on at the station, and reported back that it was complete chaos out front. Every train heading towards Rome had been delayed or cancelled, and they had adjusted our delay again.

By now a lot of people had given up and left. We started talking to the two Polish girls and an Australian girl, and looked at Uber prices. One of them had spoken to a train attendant who promised ten minutes’ warning before the train left, since they couldn’t give an actual departure time.

It was past 17:00. We had been booked into Naples at 16:15. We would eventually get there at 22:30, six hours and fifteen minutes late.

Then a bus arrived in front of the station, and Hugo went out to investigate.

Caro’s side

All of a sudden the train’s horn blew and, like one man, everyone started clapping and shouting Andiamo!

I grabbed my phone and started calling Hugo. I don’t have data, and for reasons we worked out later I couldn’t get a call through to him either, but at least I knew he would see my missed calls. Then I heard the train doors closing and my heart sank.

The Australian girl saw my big eyes and said, but where is your husband. I told her I didn’t know. She tried to phone him too, and when that didn’t work she made a hotspot for me. By then I was shaking so much that I couldn’t type in the password she spelled out, so she took the phone and typed it for me. And just as I heard Hugo’s voice on the other end, the train pulled out of the station.

I couldn’t believe it was happening. I said, we’re leaving. Hugo just replied, I can see that.

Then he started calming me down. He sent me my train ticket and told me he would climb onto the next train — there were several waiting to head that way — and that I just needed to get off at our station.

As soon as I put the phone down, the older Italian lady’s eyes went wide as she realised Hugo wasn’t there. What followed was frantic loud talking and a lot of hand gestures between all the Italians seated around me. No matter how many times I said sorry, English, it only felt like more questions were coming at me.

Then the Australian girl helped with her Google Translate. The Italian man said: your husband was sitting the whole time, and then five minutes before the train goes he decides to get up — in a way only an Italian can. I couldn’t help laughing.

Then one of the women stopped the train attendant and explained my whole situation to her in Italian, looking at me every so often to confirm, even though I had no idea what she had just said.

By this time I had calmed down enough for my heart to beat normally again. I was in contact with Hugo and knew he was on the train behind us. With the Australian girl’s help I had also calmed down all the Italian aunties around me.

All there was to do was wait.

Two or three hours later we were nearing Naples. The Australian girl was getting off at the stop before, so she turned on her hotspot again and told me to use it before she left. A few messages from Hugo came through. Change of plan, you have to get off with her. My heart did a somersault. I looked at her and said, change of plan, I’m getting off with you.

When I reached for the first bag, all the Italians started talking at once. There was a mad rush to get all four of our bags to the train door, with the Italians following and continuing the one-way conversation. The Australian girl — thank goodness she was there — did the translating. They were worried I wouldn’t be able to find Hugo at the station, since we couldn’t communicate, and asked several times whether I was sure he had said to get off here. And then one of them said buona fortuna about ten times.

And then, when the Australian girl and I stepped off at Salerno, they came to the train door to wave us off. It was really special to be cared for like that by strangers.

I thanked the Australian girl and told her I was fine and she could go. Two minutes later Hugo arrived.

Hugo’s side

I sat and worked from 13:00 to 17:00, barely getting up once. Outside, the platform was full of people and constant commotion. Caro had gone to find a toilet in the station earlier, since all the ones on the train were closed.

We had been promised a long warning before the train left, so I said I would go and look at the bus and the toilet, and maybe get a dinner snack. We hadn’t planned on still being on a train at this time of day.

The platform was still full of people, and there were people all the way through the subway tunnel to the station side. I heard a train whistle but didn’t immediately get a fright — the Polish girl had told us it happened to her earlier, that she got a mini heart attack and ran, and then it was for nothing. Nobody on this side of the station looked worried or in a rush either.

Then Caro’s missed call came up, and I did start running.

When I got to the top of the stairs the platform was still full of people, but over their heads I could see the train was already moving. If I had reached out I could have touched the last carriage going past.

It was the weirdest thing, the platform still being full of people who in theory all wanted to head in that direction.

Caro’s WhatsApp call came through and I said yes, I am on the platform, I saw you leave. But don’t panic, all will be fine. I’ll simply arrive soon after you.

I asked some of the other people what had happened — whether the train had been full, why they were all still standing there, whether they were also waiting to get to Naples. They said yes.

On the one hand I almost accepted that at face value and just waited. But then I asked ChatGPT to translate that my wife had left with our bags and without me.

What followed was a lot of frantic talking and gestures, and at one point five staff members all talking at the same time, all in Italian of course. Finally a woman just said in English that I needed to take the next train and get off at Paola, where the train Caro was on would wait. How or why, I did not know.

The next train to arrive was a Frecciarossa. The staff member I had first shown the message to indicated that I should follow him. We walked almost to the end of the train, where he explained my predicament to the conductor, who was not very happy with the idea but eventually said ok, come — and then said about five times, Paola, you get off at Paola, no further.

We got on close to the restaurant car, so I just sat in there on a barstool.

As if it wasn’t enough of a rollercoaster, the sliding door got stuck. For more than thirty minutes six staff members were shouting and kicking and slamming it, taking off their jackets and rolling up their sleeves.

By this time Caro said they had stopped in Paola, as predicted. Then came the message that they had left again.

So there would be no catching up at Paola. And the man I needed to convince to let me stay on was busy kicking a door, blood red in the face, and in no mood to worry about a stupid tourist who had lost his wife.

We got to Paola about seventeen minutes after Caro had left it. Nobody explicitly watched or waited for me to get off, but they also didn’t want to be caught still having me on board. So I followed the conductor as he walked through about five carriages, and got the attention of another staff member behind him to ask whether I could stay on to Naples. He said the train wasn’t stopping at Napoli Centrale, but that if it were up to him I could stay. The first conductor heard this, shook his head and said something, and there was a bit of back and forth between the two of them. Probably along the lines of, what do you expect the poor guy to do, he can’t be stuck in Paola, there’s no more transport from here to Napoli.

And so I stayed. This time I found an open seat in business class and settled in.

I started making plans for how to get from Napoli Afragola in to Centrale, how long Caro would have to wait there, and where. It looked like it could be up to thirty minutes. I also contacted our Airbnb host to tell him about the delay. He was so worried that he wanted to organise a friend to meet her on the platform, since he was out of town himself.

I was fairly sure I had checked the Salerno schedules earlier and found nothing, but when I looked again there were three options from Salerno to Napoli Centrale after 22:00.

From Caro’s updates and where they were, it looked like we would either arrive together or I might even get there first. The Frecciarossa was faster and stopped at fewer stations — Salerno and Paola were the only stops between where I got on and Naples.

So the choice was either to let Caro carry on to Centrale while I got off at Salerno and followed her up, or for both of us to get off at Salerno and travel the last bit together.

I sent Caro the message to get off at Salerno. She didn’t get it immediately.

As we got closer, Caro called to say they were now in Salerno, waiting for a platform. We were waiting too. It seems that if two platforms had been free I could have stepped off and straight onto the IC, but the Frecciarossa needed the same one. So Caro got off, our train pulled in behind hers, I got off, and we could finally find each other.

What an adventure.

What a day, and we hadn’t even reached our accommodation yet.

Now we had to wait for a regionale to Naples, and no surprise, it was delayed. We eventually got on without buying tickets because it was too close to departure, but reckoned we could explain our predicament and use our through tickets to Naples as proof. Nobody asked for tickets. We got into Naples at about 23:00.

Centrale is quite a modern station, although it was under construction. Then we crossed the street into the city and it immediately gave us Agrigento vibes. Dirty and dodgy. Caro was glad she didn’t have to be there on her own.

We saw a McDonald’s and went in for refuge and a small burger, since we still hadn’t had anything for dinner. We took it as takeaway and carried on walking the remaining 800 m to the apartment.

Our apartment was in a dark narrow alley and we had to press a bell to be let in at the front gate. Luckily the host had warned his mother, who was thankfully still awake and opened up for us. The room was on the fourth floor with no lift. There was a lock box at the apartment door as usual, and the old lady just peered out of her own door to check that we had got in. We said Grazie, Grazie.

And then we went in and fell down. We shared the McDonald’s burger, had a shower and slept. What a day.