🇮🇹 Two Weeks, One Backpack - Part 2
As I sat on a bench under the tree, admiring the grandeur of the Tomba del Milite Ignoto, I marveled at the tribute to the soldiers who died during World War I and were never identified. The national monument, located in Rome’s Altar of the Fatherland complex, loomed large in the distance, a massive white marble structure that dominated Piazza Venezia.
My sense of awe was short-lived as a man approached me and greeted me.Normally, I might have been open to chatting with him, but I had just been scammed earlier that day and my mind was on alert. As soon as he approached, I stood up and tried to walk away, answering his question briefly. Unfortunately, my body language must have come across as rude, and the man was offended. As I walked away, he shouted at me …
“You know something is wrong with you here,” and he pointed to his head; his index finger shaking with rage.
His words made me think a lot. Was there really something wrong with me? Or was it just my caution and wariness after being scammed that made me come across as unfriendly? I pondered these questions as I climbed to the top of the Tomba del Milite Ignoto and gazed out over the road leading to the Colosseum.
From there, I could hear someone playing Beethoven’s moonlight sonata on piano. The music sounded so beautiful that it almost seemed like a dream. I felt lucky to be in such a wonderful place, surrounded by history and beauty.
As I walked along the road to the Colosseum, the vibrant atmosphere quickly made me forget about bad experiences I had encountered earlier. The street was filled with artists displaying their talents, and the crowds added to the lively atmosphere. I felt immersed in the energy of the city.
One particular artist caught my eye. He was painting breathtakingly beautiful scenes using only spray paint cans. I stood there in awe, watching him create intricate works of art with a few quick sprays. It was amazing to see how he transformed a blank canvas into a vivid and lively painting.I couldn’t help but think about how talented and creative people can be.
While watching the artist paint, I unconsciously grabbed my crossed-body bag over my chest and pulled it towards the front of my body and I noticed something alarming — one end of the strap was almost completely broken. I quickly checked the other end, only to find it was in the same state. It was as if someone had attempted to cut the straps with a knife, perhaps in an attempt to steal my bag.
My heart racing, I immediately began to feel paranoid that someone could still be watching me, waiting to make a move. I imagined someone suddenly running up to me and grabbing the bag right out of my hands. The thought was terrifying.
In that moment, I felt completely vulnerable and exposed. I didn’t know what to do or how to react. If someone did try to steal my bag, I would have been completely helpless. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what I would do if it actually happened.
I took my passport and wallet out of the bag and put them in my jacket pockets, clutched my bag tightly in both hands and quickly made my way back to the hostel, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. I couldn’t even imagine continuing my journey to the Colosseum, a place that was supposed to be one of the highlights of my trip.
As I walked back to my hostel, my heart was pounding in my chest. Every shadow seemed to move, every noise sounded like someone was following me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me, waiting for the right moment to strike.
As I turned into the street where my hostel was located, a wave of relief washed over me. I could see the sign of the hostel from a distance and it felt like a beacon of safety. My heart was pounding with a mixture of fear and relief as I walked towards the entrance. I couldn’t wait to get inside, lock the door, and feel secure once again. I didn’t even want to think about leaving the hostel again.
Crawling into my bunk bed, the sound of the rain tapping a soothing lullaby on the rooftop, I felt the tension slowly release from my body. I was safe and sound, back in the hostel, with my belongings intact. But something within me felt restless, like I was missing out on the magic that Rome had to offer. I tossed and turned, my mind racing with thoughts of what could have been. What if I hadn’t been scammed? What if that man hadn’t been so rude? What if my bag had been stolen? Just as I was about to give in to my anxiety and call it a night, I heard a knock on the door.
To be continued … read part 3 here.
