By Maryanna Gabriel
Back on the highway two boys were hitchhiking and my friend went up to them hoping they would be North Americans and Lord save us they were Italian, younger than us by about four years. The sun was going down, we all stopped hitchhiking and warily we banded together. I write.... they shared their food with us, beautiful artichokes in olive oil and bread. We relaxed a little but we felt uneasy. It was for good reason as it turned out. As we were bedding down one of them says I must sleep with him. My friend burst out laughing. The result was not good. The darkening night throbbed with uneasy tension as we
Back on the highway two boys were hitchhiking and my friend went up to them hoping they would be North Americans and Lord save us they were Italian, younger than us by about four years. The sun was going down, we all stopped hitchhiking and warily we banded together. I write.... they shared their food with us, beautiful artichokes in olive oil and bread. We relaxed a little but we felt uneasy. It was for good reason as it turned out. As we were bedding down one of them says I must sleep with him. My friend burst out laughing. The result was not good. The darkening night throbbed with uneasy tension as we
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| Travelling By Backpack At Age 21 |
listened to them whispering and seeing one of them sit up
intently staring at us caused me to tighten my grip on the knife I was holding
under my pillow. I felt helpless and ridiculous, and my fear grew. We dared not
move, both of us suffocated in our down bags with the heat. The mosquitoes were
terrible. Oh! for dawn. It finally came. Nothing happened. We were lucky. We
were bigger than them physically which must have helped. My
friend later shared she had her hand on a heavy object all night. We
barely slept. To have come through all of this, I feel we have been watched
over by a guardian angel...
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| Red Tiled Roofs |
When we finally arrived at our pensione in Florence the woman who rented it to us wagged an index finger and said in a thick Italian accent, “No boys, no boys.” We nodded our enthusiastic agreement. Little did she know! Safe clean sheets and a bath later we were thankful to be able to rest before exploring beautiful Firenze. I write.... church spires and towers rise occasionally like some fine ladies delicate needlepoint for the architecture is like that.. the red tiled roofs are many.. . a flood of happiness went through me.
And now, all of these years later, I am set to return. I fly to Florence soon.