My editor asked me to share some of my experiences while travelling abroad. There were so many to choose from but one day in Rome stands out in my mind. It was the day when our phones died out on us.
We had been taking pictures all day long so naturally we found ourselves without our lifeline to the modern world at the end of the day.
With only one power bank between us, two cell phones went RIP and the third one barely held on to dear life. Believe me, my husband, daughter, and I fought each other fiercely over that bank! But it’s our phones themselves which eventually bowed out of the fight.
So make that note to self now … when traveling, bring five dozen fully-charged power banks to avert gladiator-like duels to death with family over that precious power source!
And it just so happened that on that same day, the taxis in Rome were on STRIKE! No taxi meant no way of getting back to our temporary home without any hassle. No phones meant no Google map access ergo, no way of knowing how to get home! We asked around, of course. Kindly Romans (by the way, they do not want to be called Italians. There is a difference, they told us.) and also the Polizia told us that Bus 64 would take us near Vatican City where we were staying. Finally! We could get home! Hurray!
Waited. Waited. Waited. Finally, Bus 64 arrived! You won’t believe how many bus lines there were and how infrequently this particular line came by.
We got on and looked around for that conductor. No conductor? What? Cash in hand, hubby asked, “where do we pay”? Apparently, we forgot that we were no longer in the Philippines. Somebody said … use tickets. Where can we buy? Not in the bus. So off the bus we went before the Polizia would arrive to arrest us for misdemeanor and block us from the Schengen area for life! My bagtak, lapa-lapa and tuhod were started to tear up at this point
“Let’s try Uber taxi. Abby use your phone.” It was still in the pre-departure area to the afterlife at that point. “Must register to Uber with email address”. We couldn’t remember our passwords. So Uber was out! Back then, only by dead phone had Uber access.
Walk. Walk. Walk. Ask! A señore told us to buy tickets at the Kiosk. To cut the story short … kiosk had closed for the day. More inward tears again. My knees, legs, and feet were begging for euthanasia at this point. Google, through Abby’s dying phone and equally dying internet connection, just told us we were still 2.9 km away from home.
Then Abby pointed at a stand behind us. A ray from heaven appeared! It was a vending machine! For bus and train tickets! Deliverance! I didn’t have to administer bolus potassium chloride to my tortured lower extremities after all!
But …. the machine kept spitting out our Euro bills!!! I silently screamed RACIAL DISCRIMINATION! Is it because we’re Asian tourists? Ha?
Thankfully, two beautiful Roman ladies arrived and the machine spat out their 10 euro bills, too! Oh! So you’re not racist after all. Sorry vending machine! I did not mean it when I said I wanted to kick your behind. Promise!
One tried to help by calling a taxi for us but they were on strike, remember? No deliverance there. Back to the tears in my head.
Just about that time, a foreign couple arrived and got tickets from the machine!!! And how did I know that they were foreign? The lady had her face all covered up like those women in Afghanistan. Yes machine! I know now. You’re NOT racist. I’m so, so sorry machine. Peace?
Hubby went back to try his luck again. Bills rejected again! He tried using coins and VOILA! 3 golden tickets to home! Rejoice! Now all we had to do wait for Bus 64 and it came, so off we went. Little trouble figuring out where to insert the ticket in the machine thingy but helpful Romans came to our aid again!
“But .. where are we??? This is not our street!” The bus pulled into the Stazione San Pietro but WHERE IS THE DOME OF THE BASILICA? It’s our guiding star to home! This bus was supposed to go to Vatican City! “Where are we?” After the initial panic, husband approached a dude with an American accent who told us to just climb down the hill (yes, it turned out that we were on a hill) by following a road he pointed at, and said we’d “find a bridge at the end but DON’T TAKE THAT BRIDGE then look to your left and you’ll see the Dome!”
And indeed there it was! We have found our street. I can never put into words the joy that I felt when I saw that dumpster at the corner of the street where our apartment building was at! The joy!!!! Our amazing race to home after the adventure entitled LOST IN ROME was finally over!
Now let’s talk about Alaxan. You must always have that when you travel my friends. One whole box of it. And add a hundred bottles of efficascent oil too! Thank God I brought salonpas! My right knee became a mosaic of Salonpas padding that night!
Looking back, I can now laugh at what we went through. It was one of those bloopers that make an experience truly unforgettable.
A friend suggested that we should always have a map with us. That’s correct. Tried doing that in Venice, but who could read those tiny prints? We’d have to have a microscope for that. But that’s another story.
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Author’s email: olgaluciauy@yahoo.com
