down and out on the streets of Rome
Rome Travel Blog› entry 64 of 66 › view all entries
The next couple of days were spent wandering around
The basic rule of thumb is to ask your Embassy for help when in a bad jam. This is always a last sort of move for me but off I went...
Japanese Embassies usually resemble miniature fortresses and the one in
I was making these profound observations while waiting for my obliging embassy staffer to talk some sense into Myair. “Uhh..I don’t know what to do…” he was scratching his head, “they say the only thing they’ll do is let you buy another ticket.” “That’s unacceptable.” He looked like he was going to collapse under a migraine. There was nothing doing there so I left to wander more...
On the Metro bands of rowdy north African youths tumbled around over the passengers swearing loudly “Bastardo…Bastardo!!!” On the line toward Laurentina the cars were filthy old and scarred with graffiti the scenery outside was not the beautiful
The doors opened and in swaggered a gypsy family. The man pumped a wheezing accordion while the mother and daughter beggared euros off the passengers.
The streets of Rome are narrow and vary from picturesque cobblestone lanes with stone-carved fountain pieces, fresh water pours constantly out, to rubbish littered alleys with urine stains on the walls.
Walking around Termini I noticed a pair of street kids following me. My hearing is sharp and I had the intuition they were talking about me. Just then from the corner of my eye I saw a shadow right behind me. In an instant I knew what was going on. I spun around to see a boy of 12 with his hand out to open my rucksack. As soon as he saw me spun around he quickly looked down while jumping back. This is a common distraction trick (to make you look down as well) so as to escape a knock. I looked to make sure nothing fell out of my bag and when I was up again the brat was out of reach. I pulled my pack to the front of my body and kept walking. “Scousa.. Scousa..” the girl came brazenly over she looker 14. I made it obvious I didn’t understand their trash talk. They started pointing at my bag and making it clear they wanted it. I didn’t get aggressive on the street (again I wasn’t used to Latin style) but I made it clear I wasn’t about to give it to them. They thought it was great sport and kept up their swearing and posturing while keeping a healthy distance. I wasn’t too worried as it was only two punks and I could crack their thieving skulls if needed.
I stopped to ask a tall black woman for directions “Do’ve Termini?” She pointed to a large Basillica and started rumbling out directions in a low voice. It was a bit startling then I noticed the