A Strange Journey

I walked from the train station, hobbled over from the weight of my backpack, as I pulled a large suitcase behind me, the sounds of the wheels clanking with every step.

Getting to my destination was not easy.

Traffic signals seemed to be a suggestion to drivers, rather than the law.

My eyes stung as the sweat dripped into them. The Blue Jays cap I wore was soaked right through. The Roman sun was unforgiving that day.

I arrived in Monte Verde, a neighborhood full of apartment buildings riddled with graffiti. Children played out in the street, as their parents watched from the balconies above. I could see the heat rising from the concrete; the smell of gasoline filled the air.

I was almost there - just one more street I needed to cross.

I stood at the intersection, waiting for the traffic to calm. Mini cars and motor bikes zoomed up and down the street as if they were race cars and SUVs. The sounds of their tires screeched endlessly.

I stepped off the curb, and was nearly hit by two teenagers on a Vespa. They chuckled as they sped off. I attempted to cross again, this time cautiously stepping off the curb with my brand new Nikes, as if I was dipping my toe into cold water. A car whipped around the corner. I hopped back onto the sidewalk, tripping over my suitcase and scuffing my sneakers. Angry, I yelled at the driver, "watch where you're going!"

I bent down and cleaned the dirt off my shoes.

I attempted to cross once more, trying to kindly get the attention of the vehicles passing that I needed to get to the other side of the road! Nobody noticed.

Frustrated, I sat down on my suitcase and pulled a bottle of water from my backpack. I took a sip. It was too warm. I decided to light a cigarette instead.


As I smoked, an old woman shuffled passed me. She wore a black dress with a shawl on her head, her grey hair sticking out at the front. She was small, and walked with a hunch, her hands full with groceries.

She seemed unfazed by the heat.

Stepping off the curb with confidence, she stopped for a second, looked around and walked ahead. She needed to get to the other side of the street and traffic was going to stop for her. I tossed my cigarette, picked up my bags and quickly followed behind. She noticed me and nodded her head, letting me know to keep up.

As we made it to the other side of the road, she looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. We went our separate ways.

I never had a problem crossing the street again.

When in Rome.