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Laura's Blog - No Comments » - Posted on January, 6 at 2:07 pm

The Best That I Can Do
By
Laura Ann Downey Orloski
7 November 2007

It was almost noon and Chris and I were in Roma for less than ten minutes when it happened. We arrived in Roma Central from the airport and had purchased tickets to Pisa, a four hour ride. We had fifteen minutes to find something to eat, drink, restrooms and, the correct train. I scanned the decrepit options within the stazione and saw a ‘Pizzeria’ across the street. We now consider being inside the station safe, and outside, a dangerous web of street vendors, gypsies and drunks.
We darted across the street, amid oncoming buses/taxies/scooters-gone-mad and pedestrians. Safe in the tiny Pizzeria where there was room enough for five people, stood twelve of us trying to order, pay and receive. I handed Chris my oversized backpack while I ordered and turned to the beautiful woman sweating behind the counter.
“Mi scusi, grazie, due margherita e due coca cola lights” and she heated two slices, grabbed the sodas, and said an amount to which I paid.
In the meantime, Chris had taken my backpack, stepped outside and holding it by a strap, allowed it to dangle in pedestrian traffic. My first thought was someone could easily grab it and run. EVERYTHING – money/cell/passport/keys/maps were in the pack. I grabbed the food and instinctually ran out to snatch the pack as we argued how people steal things in Rome. He held the food while I packed my wallet and we headed back to the station with just seven minutes to find our train.
Upon entering the station a woman grabbed my arm and pointed, “They just took your …”. Immediately I watched as Chris darted back across the street. I ran behind him and a boy and girl briskly walking away looked back and picked up their speed.
“Hey, stop! You STOP!” Chris yelled as we ran into the kids. They looked like they were barely ten and from our screaming we were quickly surrounded by vendors and pedestrians to see the commotion. During the ambush, an older boy who (we later surmised was an accomplice) knew the kids and began to yell at me! I threw my hand in his face waving my finger and yelled, “NO, VAFFANCULO!” (Which literally translates to, “NO, F**K YOU”) and, quite authoritatively I motioned for him to back away. As my attention was diverted, the younger boy started to walk away. I reached out, grabbed his shirt and pulled him back. He was pissed, lifting his shirt saying “we no have nothing”. The girl, cornered in between the boy, Chris and I, was also lifting her shirt and saying “nut-ting,[L]ook, ch-heck” in something I wouldn’t even consider English.
The younger boy started pointing down his pants so I padded down the side of his pockets and did the same to her. Chris was explaining to a vendor that they stole something from me. The most frustrating aspect was that I knew they took something, yet I had no idea what they took. The outermost pocket in my backpack, the one I was unable to secure with a clamp, was wide open. Yet I knew it had unimportant items: Chap Stick, a compact first aid kit, and pens. Everything seemed to be there, just exposed.
Chris asked me, “Do you have your passport? And your wallet?”
“Yes, those pockets are locked.”
I turned to the kids then back at Chris and said, “whatever they took, they can have” thinking at this point, they probably need it more than I do. So I waved them off and said, “have it, it doesn’t matter” and looked at Chris saying, “Let’s just get the hell out of here.” He agreed and we ran toward the station.
We went back through the traffic, into the station and I felt a loss not being able to thank the lady who told me they stole something. Finally settled on the train, I sat with my backpack in front of me and went through the bag. “Ah shit.” I said allowed. “It looked like a little black wallet and had my ipod.” I was pissed. I knew it was futile, the item replaceable yet I was more upset for having caught them and not retrieved my property. I felt violated by kids. Then later (hours later) I felt bad for them. Ironically, the ipod had over thirty hours of “I-speak Italiano” and, being over a year old, was doomed for imminent destruction.
Then I thought, should this ever happen again, I would run after them, catch them, kneel down in front of them, shake their hands, introduce myself and in surprisingly good Italian (dang I wish I had that ipod) say,
“I am sorry that you must steal from others, this is not a good life, and I hope that you choose a better life soon. What you took, you can have with my blessings, for you need it more than I. I wish you the best in this life, and perhaps you will someday see that what you do to others will catch up to you. When it does, I hope it is good and not bad. For I know there must be some good in you. Goodbye and I do hope you enjoy your new gift.”
Not that any of this would matter to them, but it would be the best that I could do.
Laura Ann Downey Orloski
Boise, Idaho 83702 * (208) 371.1083 * Lauracyclist@yahoo.com

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