A rather long and verbose article that Italian disorder is contagious. However, it tripled pays off with sincerity and goodwill
Just yesterday I wrote an article about the impressions of various people about Italy: what delights, impresses, surprises tourists in this amazing country. It seems that some things can really happen only here and nowhere else. Now I want to share with readers my own story about how a small Italian miracle happened to me.
Background
In January of this year, my mother and I went to Italy. Finally, I was able to show her this beautiful country, which forever won my heart! Let our journey be short-lived, but very intense. We ourselves developed a route, booked hotels and train tickets - therefore, we felt quite free in the image of experienced tourists. Arriving at Bergamo airport, in a week we managed to see Milan, Florence and Venice: we visited the main sights, enjoyed the local cuisine and wines, and of course, like any girls in Italy, “rushed” enough (just got into the winter sale season - there was no sin take advantage of).
And so, as they say, "tired, but happy," we are returning back to Belarus. More precisely, we are still traveling by train from Venice to Bergamo. Bags - a lot (purchases, after all, yes souvenirs), and a flight with a transfer. But we are not weak girls, so we safely transfer all our goods from one train to another at the necessary station, move off ... and in a conversation with horror we understand that BACKPACK FORGOTTEN !!! I will not go into details about what was located there, I can only say that there were valuable personal items dear to us, including the brand new mother's earrings from Swarovski. Fortunately, passports lay separately in a suitcase.
Miracle number 1
And here the Italian miracles begin ... The first and probably the most important miracle, without which further history would not have happened, was that the controller in our train, at my request, managed to reach the head of the train, from which we left forty minutes ago. And imagine, he found a backpack near our seats and agreed to leave it at the terminal station, that is, in Turin! There was no limit to my joy and surprise: I am more than sure that in my own country in a similar situation I could already say goodbye to my personal property, it would never occur to any controller to call the head of another train.
But we go further. One miracle has already happened, now I don’t want to lose the backpack doubly. After all, we know that he is in the police station at the station in Turin. But we arrive in Bergamo in the late evening, and the plane is with us the very next day. Unfortunately, the option to quickly slide into Turin and back disappears: the road takes only several hours with a change in Milan, and given that I have never been there, the likelihood of being late for the plane increases significantly. What to do?
Miracle number 2
In desperation, I call my only acquaintance, permanently residing in Italy, the creator of the Italy for Me website, Arthur Yakutsevich, although I have never talked to him in my life, but only through the Internet. But he lives in Rome and therefore, of course, cannot pick up my backpack from Turin. But Arthur came up with another thing, for which many thanks to him: we threw a cry in a group on Facebook.
I want to say that people responded immediately. Not much, but still. Offered contacts of their Italian friends and other options. As a result, already in Belarus, I agreed with Minsk resident Alexander, who promised that his Italian colleague Stefano would pick up my backpack, and there we will decide how to transport it to Belarus - and this is the second miracle in this story.
Miracle number 3
It is worth mentioning the events that occurred the day after the "fatal event". Early in the morning I ran to the Bergamo train station to try to find out exactly about the fate of my property. Because on the Internet, I could not find the phone number of the Turin information station. It seemed logical to me that the employees of one department should have a constant relationship with each other. But it was not there! It turns out that the Italian railway system is divided into several lines that are not interconnected: red, silver and white (Frecciarossa, Frecciargento, Frecciabianco). Therefore, they couldn’t help me at the general box office, because Turin is not located on the same line as Bergamo (the more surprising is the night “achievement” of the controller on the train). But some local employee came into my position and sent me to the administration building.
A funny thing happened there. I knock on the door of the building, its typical good-natured middle-aged Italian opens it, carefully listens to my request and takes a thoughtful look ... Then another Italian of the same type approaches him from the end of the corridor, the first tells him the essence of the problem - now two people think. Soon a third approached - the story repeats itself.
I already decide that it’s worth saying goodbye to the backpack, because I can’t even get through to Turin, but here one of the Italians rises up and runs away to another building. Five minutes later he comes running with a piece of paper with a phone number. So we got through to the police station I needed: I described the backpack on the phone, proved that it was mine, and agreed that within a week someone would pick it up from my friends. Three Italians actively helped me communicate with the police (I speak Italian well, but their support was not superfluous). And this is another episode that seemed to me, if not a miracle, then something like it: you must admit that people are far from always ready to break away from work in order to solve a problem that is essentially unnecessary to them (in state institutions of our country - that’s for sure).
Why is this all ...
Today, I finally took my backpack. A girl Natalya brought him to Minsk, which I also had never known before. Three months later, but my and my mother’s things returned to us, which, of course, makes us happy. But even more encouraging is the realization that there are still people in the world who are capable of selfless help. I am extremely grateful to Alexander, Stefano, Arthur, Natalya, the nameless controller and station workers who remained anonymous - for their help, for the ability to empathize, for the fact that they spent part of their time solving other people's concerns. Stefano went from Bergamo to Turin on purpose, as I later found out!
With this article I want to say thank you. And I firmly believe that such a story could only happen in Italy and with people in love with her.
