Random Misadventures of a Hopeful Wanderer

While studying in Austria I decided to go on a trip to Italy with my friend Ryan. It was just supposed to be a long weekend trip to Venice, but it turned into an adventure that I will never forget. We arrived in Venice in the early morning and wandered around the city with all of our baggage until we could check into our campground accommodations just outside of the city( I don't know if you've ever traveled to Venice but it is really expensive to stay in the city!) When we were at the bus station trying to find the correct bus to get to the campground, Ryan noticed that they had buses that go to Padua, only a 16 minute ride. He asked if maybe we would want to go the next day. We had already walked around Venice a lot and we would have all day Sunday to explore the city and a 32 minute round-trip bus ride wasn't too much so we decided to go. Both being Catholic we really wanted to see the Basilica of St. Anthony of Padua, but since this was an unplanned trip we had no maps, and we also speak no Italian. We tried to ask the bus driver if this or another bus went to the basilica, he didn't speak English. But when we said "San Antonio" this tiny old Italian lady behind me lit up and touched my arm and repeated "San Antonio?". I said yes and she motioned to me saying "Veni, Veni" and we followed her off the bus when it reached the station. She led us down several streets, trying to explain in Italian and never getting frustrated that we didn't understand. Finally she stopped this young man who was getting on a motorcycle and asked him to translate. He said "She is taking you to the metro station and is buying your metro tickets so you can see the basilica of San Antonio." We nodded and kept following her and when we go to the station she saw us onto the platform and gave us our tickets and even asked someone to tell us when to get off. We thanked her profusely and got on the metro to our destination with no more hiccups. As we walked across the square to basilica, Ryan noticed a tiny side chapel where mass was about to be celebrated and he asked if I wanted to go. I said ok, thinking "great another mass in a foreign language that I won't be able to understand". Then as we sat down the group welcomed us in English, they were a pilgrimage group from California. It was beautiful. The basilica was amazing and I was able to experience one of the greatest Catholic preachers of all time. Irony: in the city of the patron saint of lost things, I was lost and found.