How I almost ended up in Italian Jail

Here begins the story of the scariest night of my life (and nothing here is exaggerated for the purpose of making an interesting story). I'm on the train to Roma from Civitavecchia right now; staying in Civitavecchia last night wasn't in my 1/2 baked plan but listen to the story to understand why it got tossed into the itinerary.


I was ready to be off of the ferry last night after 20 hours of sailing from Barcelona! It seemed to take the boat forever to dock--and this was around 8 pm so it was dark at this point. The ferry let out into a large industrial parking lot area. The blue lights of the ferry made the area glow eerily.

I am one of the first people off of the boat. (C@rlo, an older gentleman that I had befriended on the ferry ride grabbed one of my bags and talked to the ferry people such that I could get off nearly first.)

A few words about C@rlo: He speaks almost cero Inglese so talking to him had to be done in Italian...sort of an immersion experience. C@rlo is a tall, thin, fair-skinned Italiano from Napoli. He smokes nearly non-stop and has a confident swagger when he walks. He wears a suit throughout the trip and kicks a pretty fancy pair of leather dress shoes. He pulls his longish-blonde hair back frequently with the gusto of an Italian or as I have Italian men imagined.

The moment I step foot off of the ramp from the ferry, a non-official-looking Italian guy wearing a nice leather jacket asked to have my passport. I shall call this tall, solidly-built, Sicilian-dark man Mario. I handed it to Mario, but was a little concerned about not having it in my possession (since I questioned his officialness). He also pulled aside two teenage Spanish boys as they walked off the ferry. Mario grabbed one of the guy's jackets and kept telling him to keep his hands out of his pockets. A few moments later, Mario was hassling the two men and it seemed a little confrontational.

He told me to wait until an official could come over. I suspected it was a routine customs check or something. Finally, Mario started walking away (quickly) so I had to walk very quickly and push through the crowd--I didn't want to be separated from my passport. When we got over to this other section of the large, paved lot, I started feeling my heart beat harder and I got a gut feeling that this was more than a routine inspection. And here comes C@rlo walking more quickly than his typical gait. I figured I wouldn't see him again considering he had driven his car on the ferry so would be driving away at this point. He asks me something about "telefono." Hmmm. Was he asking me if I had his telefono number in case I had any problems? No. He got more insistent about his telefono (note this is all taking place in front of the officials). And then he got impatient that I wasn't understanding. I would have understood in the same manner if he had been speaking English to me. He was asking me for his telephone in my stuff. "No, no telefono."

"Well, look for it." Ummm, I'm not going to look for a telephone that I don't have. That's when Mario turns to me and tells me that I have due minuti (2 minutes) to find and return the phone to C@rlo and if I find it within this time, I won't go to prison (he crosses his arms which is the international symbol for "handcuff"). So I take a quick look in my backpack which is the only bag it could have possibly been in if C@rlo had accidentally dropped it or mixed it up with my stuff. My search is grossly incomplete since I know I don't have the stupid iPhone. I have my iPhone with me...why would I want a second such device? Lately, I've used mine as a watch and alarm clock during my travels.

Mario gets impatient with me and more insistent that I must find this iPhone. I need to take everything out of the backpack. Thank goodness it was a perfectly still night as I had a lot of little pieces of paper in my backpack. Up to this point in the trip, I've been very good to keep my stuff organized (it's not in my nature to be organized so I was particularly proud of this accomplishment). Last night undid all progress formerly made. After the backpack had been emptied, and an official (who looked official in his uniform), I'll call him Tony, was now picking through all of the contents of my backpack, I started to feel panic. C@rlo is still insisting I have his iPhone and I realize there's a real chance he planted his iPhone somewhere in my stuff.

I pull out the wallet that my iPhone is in and turn it on so the official can see it's mine. Gulp, this is the picture of me and my Janus Rockband friends when we dressed up.

I wonder what Mario thinks of this. Cute? Or does it prove I'm a dark villain who steals from poor, unsuspecting men like C@rlo? I think he was amused and had to quickly shift back into macho, I-mean-business frown.

With the thought of a possibly planted-on-me iPhone, I start ripping through my other bags, throwing everything out onto the concrete...trying my best to find this iPhone before the officals do. Mario doesn't speak English. I try to explain that C@rlo could have slipped it in my stuff. I had done a pretty good job of keeping everything locked and watched during the journey, but I have a lot of bags with a lot of pockets and some that cannot be locked. It was a long journey where I couldn't possibly stay next to my bags the whole time (yeah, sleeping and visiting the bathroom was necessary).

With all of my stuff everywhere, I kept thinking of new possible hiding places...it was a long, tiring task getting through all of it. Even the bike had to be unpacked, wheels in/out of their bags, absolutely everything. Tony (who was hand-picking through everything) turned out to be very nice. He looks at my name on my passport and asks the origins, "Ah, Italiano, si?" I tell him where my nono (grandfather) and nona (grandma) are from. He compliments Sicily (doesn't know grandma's home town) and smiles when he talks with me. I explain that I'm coming to Italy to study and learn Italian, that I love the country. Again, he smiles.

After Tony declares me iPhone free (you have *no* idea how relieved I am that nothing showed up), he asks me if I need "a mano." Si! Yes, I could use a hand. I am absolutely exhaused from the ferry ride, the stress and there's nothing more fun that unpacking and packing everything once again. He helps me pack the bike back up and holds open my duffel while I toss in all of my clothes. It's times like these when I am very happy to have all clean clothes and very boring-looking unmentionables.

Just prior to handing my passport back, Mario asks me if I have money. I hesistate and say yes. They had left my moneybelt alone prior to this point. I rip the thing off and hand it to them. Now I am worried they are asking for a bribe. I'm not giving them anything willingly, but at this point, I'm fine with them taking everything (except for the bike and my riding clothes!) if they just let me go. They look through the moneybelt, return it and my passport and Mario drives away.

I didn't care to talk with Mario or Tony (even though I liked Tony) a moment longer, but here I am, now alone in this large, dark parking lot without any of my fellow travelers. They have all been shuttled away to the nearby town of Civitavecchia. Tony gives me directions as to what to do--wait for the shuttle, it'll be back and it was. I was off. By this time, it's nearly 10 pm and the trip to Roma and then to Perugia could take half of the night. I can't travel any more.

I plead with the shuttle driver not to let me off at the edge of town where it's dark and there is no one out there. "I'm scared!" He doesn't understand, but I think my tone of voice made the intent obvious). No problemo, he assures me, it's a 5 minute walk to the train station. 5 minutes for someone without two large bags and a bike bag (though I am getting proficient at handling the load and I can walk pretty fast with everything in tow). I'm still shaking and completely paranoid so I walk a couple of minutes (it's a nice road that has the Mediterranean Sea to the right and a row of hotels and beach stores on the left) until I see a hotel with a ramp in the front. There isn't a good reason to be scared out here, but the dark of night is enough to completely freak me out at this point.

So that's where I sleep last night--my safe house. All of this skrimping to save money where I can and I happily drop 70 euro on that private room with a large bed. And yes, I put a large piece of furniture behind the door, just because I had to to feel perfectly safe.

It took a couple of hours to wind down (and I was soooo tired), but I slept like a baby. This morning, feeling like a new person, I took a walking tour of Civitavecchia (fairly large town), grabbed a cafe and pastry, bought train tickets to Perugia and am on my way there now.

[Fast forward to tonight...finishing this post, I'm in for the evening and found a place to stay.)

Welcome to Italia! It feels GREAT to be here, despite last night's drama. More on Perugia soon (domani, tomorrow)...it's far bigger than I expected and the place I'm staying is pretty much a dream come true (farm in Perugia). Permanent living situation has yet to be determined. Here's one pic of the vicinity to give you an idea: