“Regrets. I’ve had a few. But then again, to few to mention”
— Frank Sinatra, My Way

Perhaps a sign of a good life, or at least a charmed life, is being able to look back without a great deal of regret. Such has been my life. And one of my biggest regrets was not having a camera that day in the stazione Santa Maria Novella in Florence.

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Our third day in Italy saw us waking in Florence and making the short walk from our hotel, the Grand Hotel Minerva to the Santa Maria Novella train station, for a quick ride north to Bologna. There we would meet our friends Liza and Shel, two Americans visiting the culinary capital of Italy (and perhaps the world) not for their dining pleasure but for an annual book publisher’s trade show. Our interests were less literary, however. We were heading north to eat, to explore this fascinating town and to visit an exhibition of Dutch paintings featuring Vermeer’s The Girl with the Pearl Earring.

Years ago, when we spent a summer in Florence, Suzy and I took the train to Bologna on several occasions, primarily to try new restaurants there. The trip those two decades ago took about an hour. Today, however, we were taking the high speed Freccia train and it was scheduled to take just more than half that time, about 35 minutes.

On our arrival in Italy several days ago, we made our way from Rome to Florence on the high speed Freccia Argento train and what in the past had been a two or two and a half hour trip became an hour and a quarter.

There are a few things that Italians do so much better than Americans and train travel is definitely one of them. For being able to cover two and a half hours of distance in an hour and a quarter, especially when you are on vacation or business, enhances everything.

It’s hard to state just what a wonder Italian high speed train travel really is. The Frecce trains are high tech, sleek, comfortable. And fast. Clocking in at 250 kilometers per hour, that is nearly 150 mph. What’s more, you don’t have to deal with Italians driving their Mercedes, Audis or even Fiats up your backside on the autostrada, even if you happen to be exceeding the speed limit. With the Freccia, you arrive pleasantly ahead of schedule, with the emphasis on pleasant.

And it is a mystery how and where this new rail system came from. One day there was no high speed train, the next day arrows (freccia means arrow in Italian) were flying everywhere. It is enough to make anyone quiver.

And all around the peninsula new stations and new sections of station have appeared to support these modern marvels. On our return from Bologna to Florence after our day in Bologna we were diverted to the new section of Bologna Centrale station where the Frecce pass through. Looking more like Washington DC metro station than a turn of the century train station, the wedge shaped train eased into the station, depositing passengers on the platform while others climbed aboard and fought for their seats and luggage space (despite the fact seats are reserved, Italians most often are not, and push the bounds of civility by sitting in one anothers’ seat, refusing to acknowledge printed boarding passes). We had a particularly embarrassing episode when we attempted to store our two enormous suitcases in the empty space between two opposite seat backs, having secured one on one side of the aisle, only to be cut off by our seatmate who, having been shown this secret storage space proceeded to put his suitcase in the space I was clearly in the process of using. It was a slightly awkward ride all the way to Bologna as I spent the entire ride muttering under my breath at his lack of civility, even after I discovered he was American and could understand my entire stream of expletives. Yet another reason to be thankful for high speed train travel.

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So what was that big regret I alluded to earlier? Several years ago, while travelling in Florence with our daughter, we deposited her on a high speed train to Rome, where she was to visit a friend of hers. Buying her ticket, we waited until the arrival platform was announced and walking up the platform we noticed the red and white nosed, wedge-shaped Freccia arriving. On the front of the train was a crazy pattern of red lines and protruding from the front was what appeared to be an ornate hood ornament. It was only when we arrived a few feet from the front of the train that we noticed the other passengers alternately turning away and breaking into peals of laughter. For the hood ornament was not an ornament at all, but the remains of an unfortunate pheasant that happened to cross the Freccia’s path at 250 km/hr. The shock of this encounter was permanently fixed on the unfortunate fowl’s features, its eyes bulging, looking as if it had been muttering to itself as I had on the Bologna trip. And as fate would have it, I was without camera, phone or other recording device to capture this Kodak moment. It is a scene unlikely to be repeated, no matter how often I ride the high speed train in Italy, remaining just a pleasant [pheasant] memory.

Ci vediamo!
Bill and Suzy