One Last Note
Trip Start
Jul 28, 2006
1
86
Trip End
Ongoing
Rome, Italy
Sunday, November 19, 2006
The last event I want to write about probably sums up this trip for me: I have written about my love/hate relationship with Italy. It is such a beautiful country and has some of the finest ruins, art and scenery in the world-not to mention the wine and food. But I feel the Italians have a very cavalier attitude toward the things they possess. There is virtually no movement to protect some of the precious antiquities this country has and I am appalled at how little they seem to value their art treasures. Then, of course, there is this attitude that tourists are to be taken advantage of-I have already elaborated on things that have happened to me others and me in this country. It is the one place in the world where I feel unsafe.
When I purchased a train ticket from Naples to Pompeii I used the Tran Italia ticket booths. The fare was something like $11. I handed the man some euros and he handed me back some coins and waited.....for me to walk away. I thought, "Nope, I have more change coming back so I waited. He handed me a five-euro bill and I walked away. Later, I realized he should have given me ten-euro back. I scolded myself for not counting back the change, as I should have. I went on to Pompeii and had a great day.
Saturday I went to purchase my ticket from Naples back to Rome where I would spend one more night before heading to the airport. I went to the ticket booth-different booth, same scenario. I gave the man a fifty-euro note for a thirty-three euro fare. He gave me back some coins and waited...I waited. Finally, he gave me a ten-euro note. Triumphant, I walked away. And then realized he should have given me fifteen-euro change. I got mad-and you all know how I am when I get mad. I went to the cabernardi and told them what had happened. I also told them I would never again return to Naples and I was tired of them taking advantage of me. Of course, my train was about to leave but I showed the officer the ticket taker and went on to board my train. I immediately started writing an essay I entitled "My Love/ Hate Relationship with Italy." What I was going to do with it, I am not sure but I felt better just typing away. I noticed our train was a few minutes late to leave, but wasn't sure what the delay was. Suddenly someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was the cabernardi who had taken my complaint. He had a five-euro note in his hand, which he gave to me and said, "Please come back." He left and our train departed.
That's how I feel about this trip. I knew it would be hard work; I knew there would be problems; I knew I would be lonely and homesick. But, every time I got to the point where I thought, "This is nuts, just go home," some magical day would occur and I would remember why I was here. Thanks, Mr. Cabernardi.
