LOST IN ROME

GETTING LOST IN ROME

I’m continuing a thread of one of my blogger friends.  He asked the question:  WHAT WAS THE WORST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO YOU WHILE TRAVELING?

Some responses related very drastic, dangerous experiences such as being robbed, threatened with bodily harm, and kidnapped(?). (Never did get the full story on that one, though I don’t doubt it’s a hazard for young women in particular.)

Yikes!!! Some people really suffered for their love of travel.

My experience pales in comparison, but here I go...

When I was in Rome with my husband, he left me in the car (we were double parked) while searching for a hotel.  (There was a long line of us double parked from the beginning to the end of that street!  A common sight in Rome, by the way.  Hey, when in Rome…right?)  At the end of that street was the great and amazing Colosseum, lit up in the darkness of the evening.  However, I had trouble enjoying the view.

After 5 minutes, I saw a police officer writing tickets for cars that were double-parked.  I waited anxiously for my husband to return before the police officer got to our car.  Closer and closer, he moved up the street with his pad and pen, writing vigorously.  However, he took longer than I expected to reach me.

Well, after over an hour had passed, I got really worried.  Where was my husband?  Did something bad happen to him?  And when I wasn’t afraid, I was thinking, “Grrrr....if he cared about me, he wouldn’t leave me this long!”—conveniently ignoring the fact that my husband was Greek.  (Weak ironic smile...)  ;0)

Finally, I saw the police officer approaching our car!  I squeezed myself from the back seat to the front in a teeny, tiny European car, sweating with anxiety (and the strain of maneuvering myself over the stick shift to the steering wheel. 

I rammed the car into gear and took off, slowly, hoping that I could find another space on that street.  No luck.  Then I thought I'd just go around the block and see what my chances were...however, I kept running into "Sensa Unico” one-way streets and "No Turns" signs. 

Very quickly, I got lost.  I drove around for what seemed like an hour, trying to keep within sight of the Colosseum, so I wouldn't be too far away.  However, the streets in Rome are often like, well, if you took a handful of spaghetti and threw it on the table, that is kind of representative.  I drove through the streets, weaving, turning, going slowly, looking for ways back, with Italians honking their irritation at me.

As I drove, thoughts of "what if" plagued me.  What if my husband came back to the place we parked and found me gone?  What would he do?  Would he be upset?  Would he leave to look for me?  Then how would I find him.  And what if I couldn't find my way back?  What would I do?  Where would I go?  I was frantic!

I started to envision myself being stranded in Italy, probably going to someone police officer screaming “Aiuto!” for help.  Then what?  Go to the police station?  And do what?  He had all the money with him.  The thought of being alone, separated like that in a foreign country, scared the heck out of me.

Eventually, I pulled the car over, parked, and began to cry.  I told myself, “Pull it together!”  Through my tears, I looked at a map from the glove compartment and tried to find streets I had made a mental note of.  More spaghetti!  But I tried to memorize some main streets.  Then I prayed.  I calmed down and started the search once more.

This time I followed my instincts instead of the traffic signs.  I must have broken 20 traffic laws working my way back to the street I had left.  My saving grace was that, although I didn't remember the name of the street, I remembered seeing a "Hoover" store on that street.  So I looked everywhere for a Hoover store.

There I was, between a crossroads and the Colosseum, wondering which road to take; what seemed familiar?  I recognized one street name; and then I went with my gut by crossing 3 streets illegally with Italians shouting obscenities at me.  But I didn't care--I was in survival mode!

Suddenly I saw it!  The "HOOVER" store!

I went up that Sensa Unico street, trying to smile back at faces giving me dirty looks.   Just as I pulled up, I saw my husband walking toward the car.  He hadn't even missed me; he had just arrived from his search, with no idea what I just went through.  So, I surprised him by breaking down in hysterical tears, choking out an explanation of what just happened to me.


I was surprised at myself!  After my many travels and adventures, I was struck with some very primitive emotions.  Fear, abandonment, isolation, loss, desperation…

I felt so stupid that I had not prepared myself for this possibility.  I vowed in future to agree with my companion(s) on a meeting place before separating, in case something like this ever happened again!

If only we had cell phones then... :0(