BEWARE THE GYPSIES OF ROME
The remainder of our trek was filled with moments of conversing, reading, and napping until the train eased into the Rome station and suprisingly enough, on time. We came to an abrupt stop causing the empty wine bottles to loudly roll across the floor of our chamber. Somewhat exhausted, and no doubt a little hung over, we collected our things, packed our still unfinished books away, and exited the train.
Having been to Rome before with my sister Kay, I found myself the unofficial tour guide responsible for getting the group to our hotel, L’albergho Enotria, of its whereabouts I had no idea. Up for the challenge, I looked at the address neatly printed on our syllabus, purchased a map of the Eternal City from a vendor among hundreds of map vendors at the station, and proceeded to lead the students down the streets of Rome to what would be home for the next two weeks. I felt like one of those beautiful Asian women I had seen with their colorful umbrellas leading much larger groups of Chinese and Japanese tourists around Venice as they snapped pictures of everything from the thousands of pigeons residing in Saint Marc’s square, Piazza San Marco, to the romantic gondolas navigating the city’s watery canals.
I was suddenly overcome with memories of my experiences outside of the Roman train station a year earlier and warned my fellow students to beware of the gypsies. Kay and I were on our way to this very station after a weekend in Rome carrying our luggage and numerous bags filled with the results of my little sister’s shopping spree, when we were approached by two very beautiful dark gypsy women. Dressed in lovely red, green, and gold flowing dresses with white pleated blouses that exposed their beautiful bronze shoulders, they encompassed Kay asking in Italian for donations as we hurriedly walked to catch our train. I noticed that one woman was holding a baby out in front of her and very close to my sister so I yelled at them to get away and warned Kay that they had been trying to open her purse beneath the baby using him to hide their actions. Kay looked down at her purse and screamed, “Oh my God Hook, they took my wallet!” I stopped dead in my tracks, turned around and grabbed one of the beautiful dark gypsy women dressed in a lovely red, green, and gold flowing dress with a white pleated blouse exposing her beautiful bronze shoulders, yelling at her in my best Italian to return the wallet. I actually sounded like a native as my blood boiled with anger. Looks of innocence and a sudden ignorance of the Italian language on their part did nothing to persuade me to release my hold on her.
Suddenly a group of shop owners came out of their stores to chastise the women for giving their street a bad name and threatening business. The shop owners began to shout obscenities and kick the gypsies when I noticed Kay’s wallet drop to the sidewalk. I quickly bent over and snatched it up, turning and telling my sister “let’s go.” Leaving the gypsies to the shop owners, we resumed our “New York” pace determined not to miss our train. Suddenly, a woman approached me from behind shouting for me to stop; however, thinking it to be the persistent gypsies I ignored her. Finally at a stoplight she caught my attention and, as it turned out, was not one of the gypsy women at all, rather a strikingly beautiful Roman who took my breath away when her eyes met mine. She politely, though also out of breath but for chasing us, explained that when I had bent over to pick up my sister’s wallet, one of the beautiful dark gypsy women dressed in a lovely red, green, and gold flowing dress with a white pleated blouse exposing her beautiful bronze shoulders had unzipped a pocket on my backpack as she was being kicked by one of the shop owners. I quickly shrugged off my pack and checked to see if anything had been stolen. Nothing was missing. I turned to the gorgeous Roman, thanked her, grazie mile, and bestowed many blessings upon her and her family as she walked away in the other direction. Sgt Hook out.
Eternal City of Rome
The Roman Conductor
All Roads Lead to Rome
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This post is filed under: La Vita Dolce & Reconstructed
