We’ve spent the last few days in Santa Margherita Ligure, using it as our home base for exploring this part of the Italian coast. Yesterday was our “Cinque Terre” day. It went off-course when someone picked my pocket at the train station in Vernazza. No real harm was done, other than losing some cash, but today I have what one might call a “getting-robbed hangover.”
We had been enjoying our visit to the towns of Cinque Terre. But then, while boarding the train at Vernazza, a girl in black forced her way in between us. There was quite a bit of jostling. Something was up. We had almost reached the next town when I discovered that there was an empty space in my pocket where my money clip is supposed to be.
We got off the train in Monterosso al Mare, found the police station, and filed a police report. That was it for Cinque Terre. We were no longer n the mood for sight-seeing. We took the next train back to Santa Margherita Ligure and our hotel.
OK. Now What?
At the hotel , I started calling credit card companies. I wanted to let them know that if someone in Italy was using my credit card to charge a $1000 Gucci purse, it wasn’t me.
Calling the credit card companies was surprisingly easy. There were real people to talk to, and they took care of business. It was a good thing we filed that police report. That was the first thing they asked for. No one had noticed any odd charges on the cards.
We’d done everything we could do, and we were wiped out. We still had our reservation at the special restaurant up in the hills, but there was no way that was going to happen now. We’d already had our share of adventure for one day. I called the place and cancelled our reservation.
Canceling that reservation was probably the worst result of the day’s events. There would be no ravioli made from chestnut flour, stuffed with home-made ricotta cheese, pine nuts, and local salami for me tonight.
Where Did I Go Wrong?
I was disappointed in myself for getting my pocket picked. I’ve done my share of traveling. I know the precautions to take. Where did I go wrong?
I usually wear a money belt when traveling, but yesterday was just a casual day-trip, so I didn’t bother. I thought keeping my money clip safe in my front pants pocket would be deterrent enough. Should be safe in my front pocket, eh?
Even though it was just a day-trip, it was a trip to Cinque Terre – a tourist hot-spot. Tourists’ favorite places are usually thieves’ favorite places, too. So even though it was just a casual day-trip, I should have had my antenna up a little higher.
But I think my biggest mistake was underestimating how good these thieves are. This is their profession. It’s what they do. As apprentices, they learn the tricks of the trade from their mentors. They hone their skills over the years. They get really good at what they do.
While we’re dining out or watching cooking shows on Italian TV, they’re busy working out new ways to relieve us of our overloaded wallets. Two people with a strategy, working as a team? I hadn’t given enough credence to that possibility. Dang.
But it’s Dinnertime…
When dinnertime rolled around, we took a walk toward the marina where we’d seen some interesting-looking restaurants. Almost every restaurant had a sign out front that said “Funghi!”, or “Funghi Freschi!” (“Fresh Mushrooms!”)
With the arrival of fall, mushroom season comes to this part of the world. There was quite a bit of excitement about it. Restaurants displayed baskets full of mushrooms in their windows, often with labels saying where they came from. I don’t mean which region they came from. I mean which hillside or local farm they came from. You could tell they hadn’t been out of the ground for long.
Back home, we can get just about any kind of mushroom any time of the year. But who knows what has to be done to make that possible? Maybe those shrooms have spent the past week on a boat from some far-away place. Maybe suppliers inject them with stuff or expose them to gaseous environments to make ‘em seem fresh. Who knows?
Not over here. Over here, people eat mushrooms during mushroom season. When they’re gone, they’re gone. Then it’s time to start eating whatever the next season brings. They’re eating each type of food when it is at it’s best.
We went into one of the restaurants and had a great meal, as usual. I don’t remember what we had, but I bet funghi was involved. After dinner we walked back to the hotel and conked out. It had been a long day, and I definitely had a getting-robbed hangover.
To be continued…
Photo of Monterosso Train Station credit: Italiarail
