Last Day in Italy: Part 3

After the aforementioned time, we headed to a nearby club. Unlike American clubs a) there was no cover charge and b) there was smoking inside. It was, however, packed inside. We made our way to the edge of the room and I set down my coat and bag at a nearby table and then we danced it up. I quickly noticed that most of the waiters and bar tender from the restaurant were there, so I said hello, but tried to stick with Romeo. Despite the club being packed, people didn't seem to stick to just one spot - or one person. Everyone was switching partners and moving all across the room. I think I danced with some of the waiters...? But it was so dark (and they all look alike...) so it was kind of hard to tell.

And let me just say that in clubs in Italy (or at least in this one) people are...I guess I'll say, friendly. There were a lot of roaming hands and I have no idea who any of them belonged to. I felt like I spent half my time evading "hands." But that's the difference between an American hands-off culture and an Italian grab-life-by-the-horns attitude (if you know what I mean).

Soon though Romeo says to me, "Where is your bag?" I'm busy really dancin' it up to Rihanna at that particular moment, so I look at him like, "Duh, it's right there - remember?" But he pulls me over to right next to the bench and says, "I don't see it - where is it?" Uh oh. We look for it, but I already know that it's not there. Okay Lord, please take care of me...

As we continue to look and not find it, I tell myself, "Okay. It's okay. No matter what, they're just things. You can always get new things. You have copies of your passport, you should still be able to get home. It's going to be okay..."

Romeo is asking me what was in the bag and the only response I can think to give (in this very loud and crowded atmosphere) is, "Everything." As I'm standing there trying to think what to do next, I see someone pass my bag to someone else and then that person sets it down on the floor. It does not even occur to me to see who these people are or to go after them in pursuit of what is most likely not in the bag, I am just so relieved to see my bag.

I sit down with it and take stock: my passport is still there as well as my credit cards (for which I'm so relieved, I hardly even care about what else is not there); but as expected my camera, ipod, cash, sunglasses, coat, and scarf are all gone. Bummer.

Romeo takes me outside and we go over the contents. He is extremely apologetic and feels so bad, but I reassure him that it's okay. "It's just stuff. I have my passport, I can get home; it's okay." But he has a feeling he might know who has my stuff (classic) so I write down where I'm staying for him and while he goes off in pursuit, he hands me off to one of the waiters from his restaurant to get me a cab to go home.

The waiter walks me to a cab and gives me a twenty to get home. When I arrive, I have 8 EU left to get me through tomorrow. My shuttle bus is only 6 EU so that leaves me 2 EU for breakfast, which is basically perfect.

As I head upstairs to the hostel, it occurs to me that I might be able to make a claim on my travel insurance for the stuff that was stolen. Is this pretty much exactly the reason I bought it? But, based on when Matthew had his phone stolen in Florence, I'll have to report it to the police in order to file my claim. Augh - that means I have to do it tonight. Booo.

When I reach the hostel reception, I get directions from the night duty guy (who was the Pakistani guy who tends to be a chatty Cathy) to the Police Station. He tells me it's not far...but that it's really not that safe right this time of night (it's about 4am by now). I understand what he's telling me, but I also don't really see any choice in the matter. I need to be at the train station by about 7am tomorrow to make my flight and there is no way I'm going to be able to tow all my stuff to the police station and back in the morning (we all now how I'm NOT a morning person), so even though I'm dead on my feet, it's now or never. Besides, I figure pretty much everything of value is stolen, and Italy doesn't really have an violent crime, just theft. What could happen?

So I head back out to the other side of the train station (which is closed, btw, so I have to walk around the bugger) and find the police with relatively little trouble. They let me in and I fill out my paperwork (which is two identical, one-sided dittos) and after I hand it in, the guy on duty stamps them, signs them, and hands one back to me. That's it? Don't I get a claim number or something? Turns out they don't speak English and without my ipod dictionary to help me translate this sentence, I have no way to communicate what I'm trying to say. Nevermind. At 5:00 in the morning, this will have to do.

I make my way back to the hostel with no problems, report to the reception dude, and ask him to make sure I'm up by 6:30. I CANNOT oversleep today and after the night I've had, no amount of paranoia is going to wake me up in about an hour. He kindly agrees and I finally, finally head off to my room.

Unfortunately I am now sharing my room with some dude. So I do my best to quietly get ready for bed/pack up the few belongings I still had out. By the time I crawl into bed (quite literally) it's 5:30. I am the personification of exhausted, but it's my first real opportunity to intellectualize the events of the last few hours and I'm in a state of minor shock. Someone stole from me. They stole my things. Why did they chose my bag - there were several there? Could they tell mine was not Italian? Did they know it was mine in particular?

Round and round I went in my head. But just like earlier today, I had to remind myself that I can't change what has happened, I can only deal with it and move on, so I tried to let it go. I concentrated on what I was thankful for instead. I'm thankful I have my passport. I'm thankful I downloaded all my pictures onto my laptop only two days before (I was only missing one picture: Me and Romeo). I'm thankful this didn't happen earlier in the trip - at this point I can definitely survive without all the things I've lost. I'm thankful I'm going home. I'm thankful I'm safe. I'm thankful I got to be in Italy for two months...

Before I knew it, there was a soft tap at my door: it was already 6:30. Had I even slept? Or had I maintained that state between sleep and wakefulness the whole time. I had no idea if I'd drifted off, but it didn't really matter: I now had to get up.