There are only two train lines in the underground in Rome, so it’s pretty straightforward getting around on the train, except this was peak hour and the platform was crazily crowded. We had to let the first train go, and managed to just squeeze onto the second. I’d never seen anything like it, except maybe in those videos of trains in Japan where they have people to push the commuters onto the carriages. The platform and train were literally packed solid with people.
Then on the floor I see a wallet just lying there. My hand went back to my pocket, and my wallet was gone. I knew the wallet on the floor wasn’t mine, but I picked it up anyway. I was in disbelief; not believing it was really gone, and not knowing what to do. I had taken my hand off my wallet for just a few seconds to avoid falling over, and in that time it was gone without me even realising, from deep down in my jeans front pocket.
I started to jump off the train, but knew there was no way I was going to be able to find and catch whoever it was that took it. The girl standing next to me knew something was wrong and asked, and she said that I had to go to the police. Then I started to think about what it actually meant to have lost my wallet.
My wallet had all my cash, so we had no money on us at all. I’d been sure to give Michelle some money for her to carry in case of emergencies, but she’d spent the last of it. So if we continued on to the Vatican, we wouldn’t be able to buy anything there: no drinks, no lunch. Our train tickets were also in my wallet so we wouldn’t be able to get back home, either. The backup credit card was back at the apartment. OK, we need to get off the train and go to the police and get the backup card so I can get some more money out.
We got off at the next step, Repubblica. Back up at street level I was able to recognise where we were, which was right near the capuchin monk’s church. I looked around, and approached a young guy in uniform standing in the doorway of a nearby building. I was asking where the police station was, and it was a bit of a struggle understanding, and then he said polizia? He told me the street and direction and off I headed.
I couldn’t’ quite understand the street he was saying, but was able to find it on the map. I eventually found the police station, and was trying to work out how to get in, as it was just a locked door in the side of a pretty poorly marked building, when one of the polizia came out from inside. He didn’t speak English, so I had to wait till his mate came out as well.
Sitting inside I explained what happened, but they were not particularly forthcoming or helpful in what could be done. I certainly wasn’t given the opportunity to fill out a police report. In fact they seemed much more interested in the dropped wallet that I had given them, looking through it and checking the driver’s license.
So I left and walked back to the apartment, grabbed the backup visa card and then walked back to meet Michelle at Termini. We then trained it, with much trepidation to Ottiviano where we joined the crowds walking to the Vatican.
But when we got in, there were no problems at all and we grabbed our tickets, went through security and made our way upstairs.
Except now, I had no idea where to go and what to see, so had to go all the way back down the spiral staircase to find a map. Why don’t they just give these damn things out when they give you the ticket? Anyway, map in hand we started following the tide of people around this place. I wasn’t quite getting into enjoying being here. I think a good bit of church and gallery fatigue, compounded with still thinking about how I managed to get my wallet stolen meant I was not really appreciating the art I was looking at.
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| The gold guy looks like Odo |
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| Eagle's Adoration |
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| stunning statues and sculptures |
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| The map corridor |
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| Busted taking a picture of the boobs |
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| How beautiful is this! |
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| A Roman Catholic Mummy |
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| Looks like a Goldfrapp music video |
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| Cats are awesome |
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| Pope mobile! |
After the cafeteria lunch I was getting back into enjoying looking around at the sculptures and paintings, and getting more and more jaded by the fact that this was in some way the hoard of art and riches plundered by the Roman Catholic Church. A church which was still filling its coffers having each room paired with a shop selling souvenirs. But maybe I’m getting cynical. Anyway, the art was awesome, and it was a plus that it was somewhere safe for all to enjoy.
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| Inside at last |
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| Love the Pieta <3<3<3 |
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| Good old John Paul II. 1st pope I can remember |
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| Heavenly light |
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| Is that a real dead person in there? |
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| Wear that foot out for good luck, or whatever you get touching it |
On the way back home I stopped at Termini Station, with the intention of checking into lost property, in case my wallet had miraculously shown up. It was a long shot, but I had to try. There were police and security around the station, and I managed to find one that spoke English who directed me to the end of platform 1. Right down the end. I was buzzed into the police station.
Yes there is actually a police station on the train platform, I entered and waited in line; yes there was actually a line of people reporting various thefts.
I filled out the police report, as did the four or so others in the time I was there, and pretty much resigned myself to the fact that it was never going to be seen again. The policeman there said that if my driver’s license was recovered, they’d let the Australian embassy know.
I dined that evening by myself in the nearby Bar Nuova Cavour again, this time going for the meal I’d seen a guy have yesterday: the Spaghetti Frutti de Mare, as well as some grilled sausages. And Campari. :-)
A couple of the mussels hadn’t opened on cooking, and not eating the unopened mussels is a myth, but it’s not really practical to be wrestling mussels opened so I left them on the plate. Oh those sausages were good. I’m going to need to hunt me down some good Italian sausages when I get back home.
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| This is a sausage despite looks. |
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