‘Mum, I need you to cancel my credit cards’. Only moments before, her voice was drowsy, curious as to why I am reverse charge calling her at six in the morning. Now her concern fusses over the receiver. Threading the phone cable stressfully through my fingers, I wonder how I am going to explain this without worrying her. ‘I’ve been pick-pocketed. They took my money and all of my credit cards.’ Straight up seemed the easiest way. Hanging up I bang my head continuously against the payphone.
While my comfort with this city has allowed me to completely unwind, it has also caused me to become careless with my belongings. My handbag, usually tucked tightly underneath my arm, has for the last few days been slung invitingly over my shoulder.
I am totally alone in a country where my language skill extends to being able to order a beer. I don’t know what I am going to do, but whatever it is, will have to wait until the morning.
I walk in circles, one cobblestone street bleeding into the next until I am completely lost. How hard can it be to find a police station? The map says it should be right here. I close my eyes, take two deeps breaths and am suddenly linking arms with a silver haired angel. Her touch is soft and she natters away despite my inability to answer. I shuffle in unison with her slow step until she draws me to a holt by placing a hand on either arm and kissing me on each cheek. She mumbles something else but I am distracted by the striking looks of an officer out the front of the station. Had I actually said ‘polizia’ out loud? I look around to thank her, but she is already gone.
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