Lost my phone on Warsaw

by Ana Amorim (Brazil)

A leap into the unknown Italy

"Lost my phone on Warsaw". That was the title of my e-mail to my parents in Brazil. I wrote it sitting in the Fiumicino airport bench, surrounded by all my stuff, wich I had overturned to find my phone, without success. So I realized that from leaving Poznan 5 am that day, and running to catch my flight in Warsaw, I runned so much that I probably left my phone behind. And by the time I got to the plane, I felt it. That horrible feeling of putting your hands in the pockets without feeling your phone. It's like a body part is missing, scary and painful. So I said to myself - keep calm, this is just one of those moments you thought you lost something, and then find out the thing was with you all the time, so you breath peacefully after making a storm in a cup. So I read a novel and relaxed in those 2 hours, proud of how calm I was. The plane landed in Rome at 2 pm, I was so happy to be there, in the land of the good food, good art and great monuments. Feeling amazed by the expectation of visiting the Coliseu and the Fontana di Trevi, eating the italian pasta and drinking some italian wine. And then going to my hotel room and having a good night of sleep, to be a sunshine rested the next day to catch my flight back to Brazil. Everything was meticulously planned for a very efficient conexion. But as every plan we made, universe looked to me and said "not today sis". Because in the moment I began to seek for my phone, the moment I messed everything in my backpack and my bag, I started to feel anxious and sweaty - suddently the weather was hotter, it was like Rio de Janeiro in summer all over again. My phone was lost. I remade my steps, and realized it was in Poland. Almost crying I said to myself - keep calm, at least it wasn't your passport or the credit card, and you still have your laptop. So I took a large breath, and sent the e-mail for my parents, praying for them to see very soon. I planned my next steps, wich was buying a train ticket and going to my hotel, and then decide what to do from there. So I did. It's such a nice feeling asking for information and receive it in a language you can understand, right? With no problems and help, I caught the train and went down in the Ponte Galeria, to stops from the airport. So far, ok. But the moment I stepped into the ground, I felt like my luck left me and stayed in the train. Because in front of, there was train tracks, and moving around, all I could see as vegetation. No houses, no people. Just tracks and vegetation. So I walked, going to nowhere. Finally, I found the train station, with no one in there. And after that, a line of constructions with some people in it. Talked to a nice lady asking where I could find the via Lorenzo Allievi, and she answered me, in italian. The thing about italian is that we think, as portuguese speakers, that is ok to understand, but the reality is that it is not. I didn't know what "prego" meant. And in the end, I had no idea of what she was saying. So I walked. Passed by a park, so much trees, maybe some animals, no human beens around. It was a 30 minutes walk until I find the beggining of a civilization, some stores and italians that maybe could help me. And let me say, that was only the beggining of my journey in that nice village of Rome, a maratone of walk, me, crying desperately, with a nice italian woman trying to help. Dehydration, hunger, and a 13 euro budget. Drawing maps in a piece of paper to follow. Uncertain to my back to Brazil. Reflections about what that life changing exchange in Poland becamed. Fear, but also the courage to know that literally, who has a mouth, survives in Rome...