So I believe it was August 1st (seems like forever ago, but was only 7 days ago) I entered Italy via hitchhiking. There is a rule in Italy about truckers driving at certain times on the weekends, and so, if I had waited with the trucker, 30 km outside of Rome, I would have been waiting for over 24 hours. I decided it was in my best interest to head out, at 7 pm, with really no money and no exact place in mind to sleep. So I thank the driver, and grab my pack, walk 100 meters, and stick my thumb out. It couldn’t have been five minutes, and someone already pulled over to pick me up. His name was Marco, and I’m guessing he was about 35 years old.
He told me he was from Naples, but only going to Rome to stay at a friends apartment for the weekend, then to head back to work (he owns a photo book binding company). So off we headed to Rome, and I explained my situation. He called his friend, and I was invited back to the apartment to clean myself up.
I get a shower in, and get dressed, and am invited for dinner, my first real Italian dinner. I am asked what I would like, and thinking that we would all share a pizza, I say I will eat whatever. Basically what happens is that we each have our own pizzas, and at this point, I have only been eating once a day for a month (the whole time I was in Romania). So to even think about eating half a pizza is too much for me. I try, but quickly learn a new rule: If I can’t finish my plate, I have to invite one person to help, if they cant finish it, I have to. This is crazy.
After a long walk and heavy eyes, we get back to the apartment, and I crash on the couch. I feel safe, and full, and happy, amazed at how quickly my life has changed.
I am awoken the next morning and told to be ready for the beach. I rush excitedly, since it has been so hot, and I could use a relaxing day. We spend from 11 am to about 8 pm on the beach, I gain a great tan, and lots of good rest. When we leave, we head to an amazing fish restaurant, and I stuff myself silly, knowing that this may be my last meal for who knows how long.
I am almost right, the boys feed me in the morning, danish and coffee, and take me to a hostel, that a friend I had met in Istanbul just happened to be staying at. The boys shook my hand, and put some money in it for the hostel, I thought only enough to cover one night, but when I went to pay the cashier, I saw that they had given me 100 Euro, and I still pray that they have good karma for all that they had done for me.
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