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Italy by train: lazy days around Calabria and the south coast - The Guardian
For author Tim Parks there is joy to be had on local trains in the sultry south, where the pace of life is as leisurely and bewitching as the narrow-gauge railways
uppose you have some summer days to spare. Suppose you have a fondness for trains. Here’s the idea. Do the southern coast of Italy. Do it bit by bit, as you feel and as it comes. Not worrying too much about timetables (no one else will), or even about precise destinations. You’re not sightseeing. Just accepting the sun-struck languor of the hills and beaches, the odd mix of hospitality and indifference that characterises the locals, the general invitation to a warm, wine-fed fatalism.
Travel light. Very light. The idea is to do everything, aside from the trains, on foot. You have a small backpack with two or three T-shirts, underwear, shorts, swimming gear, washing kit. You really don’t need anything else. Your sun hat is on your head, your sandals on your feet, your shades on your nose. What we’re trying to do is divest ourselves of our ordinary obsession with organisation and control. Italy’s southern railways are peculiarly conducive to this. Tell yourself before starting: I will never complain about a train being late, or even departing early, or from an unexpected platform. I will be patient. I will be steady and slow as sunshine on a stuccoed wall.
For author Tim Parks there is joy to be had on local trains in the sultry south, where the pace of life is as leisurely and bewitching as the narrow-gauge railways
uppose you have some summer days to spare. Suppose you have a fondness for trains. Here’s the idea. Do the southern coast of Italy. Do it bit by bit, as you feel and as it comes. Not worrying too much about timetables (no one else will), or even about precise destinations. You’re not sightseeing. Just accepting the sun-struck languor of the hills and beaches, the odd mix of hospitality and indifference that characterises the locals, the general invitation to a warm, wine-fed fatalism.
Travel light. Very light. The idea is to do everything, aside from the trains, on foot. You have a small backpack with two or three T-shirts, underwear, shorts, swimming gear, washing kit. You really don’t need anything else. Your sun hat is on your head, your sandals on your feet, your shades on your nose. What we’re trying to do is divest ourselves of our ordinary obsession with organisation and control. Italy’s southern railways are peculiarly conducive to this. Tell yourself before starting: I will never complain about a train being late, or even departing early, or from an unexpected platform. I will be patient. I will be steady and slow as sunshine on a stuccoed wall.