My trip to Italy began in the Eternal City – Rome. I arranged to meet a classmate for dinner at rail hub Roma Termini before taking a leisurely stroll to view Trevi Fountain in its evening splendor. It’s a picturesque scene replete with young lovers, tourists, sidewalk vendors, and plenty of gelato enthusiasts. Over the cacophony, we heard the piercing sound of a police whistle, signaling the area’s closing.
When we arrived at the nearest Metro station, it was closed. What would have been four stops away using the speedy Metro now seemed like a journey to another planet. To make matters worse, I had forgotten my map and didn’t bring enough cash to take a taxi home.
I summoned my courage and explained my predicament in broken Italian to an older gentleman. His face softened; although he was a few blocks from his apartment, he offered to assist us.
We boarded the night bus for the short ride to central Rome. My classmate left and my “travel angel” calmly lit a cigarette while we waited for a second bus. My hotel should have been a short walk from that point but we wandered for an hour, turning left, right, left again, right again. Instead of being frustrated with me, he reassured me by saying tranquile – be calm.
It was almost 2 AM by the time we finally found my hotel. I will probably never see the stranger with whom I passed two challenging hours again, but I hope my gratitude transcended the language barrier. Even in my native language, it’s difficult to find the words to express the depth of my gratitude for the kindness of this stranger.
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