What losing a card inside an ATM machine taught me about travel friendships
I was in Rome and had just gathered with my friend Tomás, who I met in Croatia. We were happy that we could meet again, but found out in the worst way how huge the city was, since we were staying in completely opposite sides. However, he offered to meet me in Trastevere, my neighborhood.

We walked through the little cobblestoned streets, trying to decide between so many good restaurants one to have dinner. Finally, we chose the less touristy one among the options (Pizzeria Ficini Trastevere: Via Natale del Grande 10, Trastevere, Roma): the non-English speakers waiters are usually a good way to assure it. We decided to sit in the sidewalk tables, since the Spring weather was perfect for an Italian wine and fresh air. I had a gorgonzola gnocchi, which crumbled in my mouth. I was glad that I would be able to say that I enjoyed a true italian meal. We talked about our fun moments in Croatia and about the next destinations. “You need to plan ahead!”, he said to me, as he couldn’t get over the fact that I still didn’t have all my steps defined.
The dinner went great. The waiter brought our bill, but I couldn’t find my card. A feeling of panic suddenly took over me. Tomás was a gentleman, saying it was an invitation and paid for the whole bill. I was already desperate, when he suggested that I should calm down with a great dessert to think clearly. We went to a small store, specialized in tiramisús (Tiramisù Roma Trastevere: Via di San Francesco a Ripa 29, Trastevere, Rome). The place was simple and cozy, in which you choose between many types of tiramisús, displayed in a balcony. I chose the Nutella one, since I have a theory that anything made with or of Nutella tastes good. It was fantastic and immediately made me feel more relaxed.
I used the better lighting of the store to properly look for my card, but found nothing. I was trying to remember the last purchase I made with it. Over this reconstitution, it occurred to me that I had withdrawn some money in an ATM right before meeting Tomas. “OK, great, and where it was?” my friend said. “I’m not sure, but if I remake my steps, I might be able to remember the way,” I answered. And so we did, walking through the streets of Rome looking for a mysterious ATM.
As incredible as it may sound, we found the machine. I looked for the card inside it, above, below. Nothing. I talked with the man who were selling roses next to it, if he, by any chance, had seen someone looking for the owner of a lost card. Nothing.
Next step: Rome’s Police station. None of the cops could speak English and neither us Italian, so we had to appeal to Google Translator. But no one had turn any card to them.
It was 10pm and I had a purchased train ticket in the next morning to Naples. I had only a few bucks in cash and a credit card for emergencies, but I needed a more effective solution for the two more weeks of travel to come.
Next step: sit and cry. Literally. That is probably one of the worst things about travelling alone: the feeling that if something bad happens, you will have to figure it out at your own. You won’t even have a familiar face around to say that everything will be alright.
Travel friends are great to make company and share unforgettable memories. But, for serious issues, they usually are not so helpful. My friend, however, surprised me. Beyond helping me to make all calls in the attempt of finding my card, he hasn’t hesitated to offer me borrowed money. We had just met, less than a week earlier. I could be a scammer. “I trusted you without any logical explanation,” he said to me later.
I refused, more than once. But he insisted, saying that I didn’t have to worry about paying him back soon and that he had enough money for his own trip. He walked me “home”, after this unusual dinner. It was not until the last minute that I decided to accept his offer. And I spent the rest of my trip being thankful for that.
* The pre-paid cards of Visa Travel Money do offer a second card without costs. However, since they are sent through Mail from your own country, you need an address and to be sure that you’ll be in the same place when it arrives, which it’s not easy on a backpacking trip.