Italy’s trains are fast, but nothing else about them is slick

July 7, 2026 — 5:00am

I haven’t had many experiences with Italian trains.

I almost missed the very first one I took years ago due to incomprehensible announcements and a sudden change of platforms, which meant scrambling with luggage to a track on the other side of the station.

Then came another garbled announcement and another change of logistics, and back we all ran to yet another platform. I followed the crowd, hoping for the best. It felt like I was in a Marx Brothers movie.

I bet most train travellers have done this dance at some point, especially when the rapid-fire live announcements are delivered in another language.

So, I was a little bit anxious about taking a train from Verona to Rome Termini recently.

I’d planned to travel lightly, as I was travelling solo and had to wrangle my luggage alone.

However, my suitcase, which had started out in Australia at about 14 kilograms had gained several kilos (like me) after three weeks in Italy. The suitcase was heavier because I’d filled it with books and art supplies.

I was heavier because of pasta.

Frequent train travellers in Italy recommend that passengers take note of their train number when looking for the binario or platform, not the destination only, as there might be other trains around the same time going to the same city.

I discovered a handy Rete Ferroviaria Italiana website (rfi.it/en) that gives travellers live updates of the arrivals and departures monitors at most Italian stations.

So, in the car on the way to the station, I could see my train was arriving on platform 4, which took away a bit of the pressure (of course, this is Italy, so things could change, according to the disclaimer on the website).

And as it turned out, my train arrived only a couple of minutes late on platform 4. I didn’t have to do the platform dance.

But I regretted my moderately heavy luggage.

There are two main companies that operate the fast trains, Trenitalia (Freciarossa) and private operator Italo. I’d booked my ticket only a few days ahead, so prices were high, but I found that Italo offered better discounts.

Two hefty guys stood behind me while I tried to get my bag down the stairs. Even though I was blocking the exit, they just stood there.

I noted that the Frecciarossa train that had gone through a few minutes before had a couple of small steps into the carriage. No problem, I thought, with heaving my suitcase (and 8kg carry-on) up there.

My Italo train, however, had three steps. That made all the difference.

I managed to get my bags into the carriage without tearing a rotator cuff, but it was an effort. Some fellow passengers had larger cases than mine, but they were travelling in pairs.

I was expecting a comfortable trip in business class, but that was not to be.

The carriage didn’t feel as if it were air-conditioned, and the temperature was mid-30s outside.

It was not peaceful. Despite luggage compartments and overhead bins, there was hand luggage everywhere, including in the aisle.

The good-natured attendants didn’t seem to mind, even when trying to manoeuvre their trolley around it to serve the complimentary coffee and snacks.

Opposite me was a family, consisting of the mother and father, and two children about six and seven. The boy spent a lot of time climbing over seats and whine-crying.

The father was on his phone most of the time, happily ignoring it. The mother was frustrated and smacked each child from time to time.

No judgment. The nonna sitting opposite me seemed to think it was all very charming.

I love public transport because people are fascinating. Especially in another country where the social mores are different.

Still, despite the beautiful scenery, I was relieved when we pulled into Rome Termini.

Now I only had to navigate my way through Rome’s famous terminal pickpockets and find a taxi.

Surely getting my luggage off would be easy. Someone would help.

Forget that.

Two hefty guys stood behind me while I tried to get it down the stairs. Even though I was blocking the exit, they just stood there. I didn’t expect them to carry it, just maybe help nudge it a little for me.

In the end, I had to partly push it off, thanking the stars that I hadn’t bought any Murano glass while in Venice.

Things I knew but needed to re-learn: it always makes sense to travel light but when you can’t, don’t take a train journey at the end of your trip. Don’t expect help. Take the train with the least steps.