Episode Four: Gypsies, tramps and pee

Disclaimer: This post talks about Gypsies. Although they are not a protected class in our country, I assure you that I do not intentionally discriminate or harbor any ill will against Gypsies or other Romanian-Italians. I am simply reporting what I read and saw. And I love Django Rheinhardt!

As Wendy and I have said many times, travel is not for the faint of heart. Even the "easy travel" we were about to embark on (everyone speaks English, the toilets flush, etc.) can involve long walks (or runs) through airport terminals, miles of uneven cobblestone streets, careening motorcycles, and 463-step ascents to cathedral rooftops. And even when you travel to cities as civilized and refined as Rome, Florence and Venice, there are genuine perils which can inspire trepidation among even the hardiest sojourner.

Since just about everybody has already been to Italy, we received quite a bit of advice from friends and colleagues before our trip. In fact, our dear friend (and Wendy's co-worker)  Bill, whose whole family hails from the region, had a family gathering to brief us on the perils and pleasures of travelling to their homeland.

In addition, friend and world-traveller Sarah L. messaged me the following: "Have you heard about the pickpockets in Rome? They're real."

And about a week before the trip, colleague and virtual namesake Kari M. sidled up to me and asked, with great solemnity and gravitas, "Are you aware of the bathroom situation in Italy?" She went on to describe the primitive place-for-your-feet-and-hole facilities she and her hubby had encountered in their own travels, and to describe an unfortunate incident involving her spouse and such a facility.

Kari went on to express concern that the combination of primitive bathrooms and an abrupt transition from my no fat, no-carb 17-Day Diet meals to rich, fatty Italian pasta, bread and sauces could result in a veritable perfect storm of digestive disaster!

I thanked Kari for her information and her concerns, made a mental note to get a giant plate of pasta  from the Macaroni Grill ASAP, and started Googling "Italian pickpockets" and "Bathrooms in Italy."

My bathroom research resulted in many warnings about bringing your own toilet paper, the perils of the hole-in-the-floor model that Kari warned me about, recommendations and rules-of-thumb (use the facilities you find in museums; when in doubt, seek out a McDonald's or Burger King), and an actual web app that showed where to find the good toilets in Rome.

I also researched pickpockets in Italy. Several alarming accounts described the threat that Gypsies posed in Rome, including a gambit where an adult shoves a sheet of cardboard under your chin and, while you are distracted trying to read what's on the cardboard, their children steal your possessions with their nimble little fingers! Several other posts described another nefarious tactic where they board a subway with a baby - sometimes fake, sometimes real - and then they throw the baby at you to distract you while they rob you!

Really? Gypsies are a threat? And they throw their babies at you? I have to confess, I don't know much about Gypsies. I know 1930's jazz virtuoso Django Rheinhardt was a Gypsy; legend has it that when he hit it big in Paris with the Hot Club of France, he invited his whole clan to live in a tent they set up in his hotel living room. (See him in action here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fzz6fAdFFis&feature=related ).

I also remember once being warned as a kid not to go down to nearby Basset Creek park because there were Gypsies living there! I have no idea whether it was true. But I do know that a camper had been set up in our little WPA-era roadside rest stop -- and who other than Gypsies would have a camper?

Django Rheinhardt. Listen to his brilliant playing, and then try
to figure out how he played like that with only two fingers!

I dutifully reported the results of my research  to the wife, warned her of the Gypsy treachery that apparently abounds in Rome, and purchased a money belt at REI. In the week before the trip we often would facetiously remind each other "don't catch the baby!"

We landed in Rome, bussed into the city, and made our way toward our hotel, luggage in tow. Suddenly we saw before us a gaggle of colorfully-dressed children and an adult female with a baby holding a sheet of cardboard. "Yow - Gypsies!" we exclaimed in disbelief. "Walk quickly, don't talk to them, don't look at the cardboard and don't catch the baby!"

We rapidly circumvented the horde with our possessions intact and made our way to the hotel, where our charming host provided refreshing croissants and cappuccinos on the patio overlooking the courtyard. Whew - crisis averted!

We never again encountered this ploy, and only came across one hole-in-the-floor toilet in the two weeks that were there. And, thanks to Kari's warning, I abandoned my diet several days before our trip just to make sure I didn't experience a shock to my system when I reached foreign soil. So the Wednesday before we left I went totally off the rails and consumed the following: A Mai Tai, 1/2 a burger, onion rings, Tater Tots, pizza, pickle roll ups, hummas and pita bread, and some birthday cake. I think I might have overdone it.