We’re in Florence on the Fourth of July, heading back to Rome tomorrow morning. What better way is there to “celebrate” 250 years of the American experiment than a shot of one of the first things I saw in Italy: a McDonald’s just outside of Roma Termini.
We spent a lot of time getting on and off trains during this trip and took way too many photos everywhere we’ve been; I figured I’d get started with posting the “in-between” shots first, as we make our way back to the beginning. x
If you’ve ever heard bad things about the trains in Italy, all I can say is that, in my experience, what you’ve heard is true: three days in a row, trains were delayed, cancelled, or simply disappeared (I kid you not; one simply never showed up, with no announcements).
The mess seems especially bad in and out of Florence, but the ripple effect spreads to other areas, like Perugia and Assisi. But even if the train leaves on time, pray that you choose the only carriage on the whole train with a broken AC during a heat wave, like we did. I kept sane throughout these tests of character by taking a lot of photos. x
The worst incident happened yesterday, when two trains to Florence were cancelled, stuffing everyone heading anywhere in either direction to or from there into the replacement trains like sardines. This first shot is us trying to figure out if this replacement train is the correct replacement train; the conductor is literally unlocking the carriage with a key. It turned out to be the wrong train btw.
Of course, some train woes are due to human error, such as getting off at the wrong station with the right city name; there are many exurban stops with the same names, and the pattern isn’t consistent: sometimes the central location is the main city with an extra name attached, like Santa something or other, like in Florence, and other times it isn’t. This wouldn’t be a problem if the connecting buses weren’t also very confusing to catch, or if ride-share apps actually worked.
Anyway, yeah – the trains tested my pazienza, but one thing I was grateful for was seeing locals take action, and in some cases, even take charge, when things went to shit. I’m willing to accept my fate just as long as I’m not being gaslit into thinking that it’s all okay or “it is what it is.”
As we say in Lebanon, “fashoule khel2e” with that oh-hell-no attitude. x