(no subject)
(Ponte Vecchio, Florence)
(Another rainy day down at the old leaning tower...)
(Lovely, lovely Siena)
(Me 'n' Cosimo, chillin' like villains in front of the Uffizi)
(The ever-languid Chia Man welcomes you to Rome)
(Holy crap! Ruins!)
Rome was kind of a shock. For two reasons:
1). The American in me who gets kind of awestruck whenever I go to, say Boston and marvel at buildings and monuments that are like, ALMOST THREE HUNDRED YEARS OLD! WHOA! had finally adjusted to not freaking out over everything in Florence that had been in existence and use for 800+ years. Then you go to Rome and, well...you kind of freak out all over again.
2). There were points in Florence (and other places, most notably Siena) where I was convinced that I was not in Italy at all but rather Epcot Center or some other theme park, strolling through a remarkably accurate little replica of a typical Italian street scene. It just seemed too exquisitely picturesque to be real at times. People were nice and hospitable, everything was perfectly photogenic. In Rome you have all of the same elements of a beautiful backdrop, but smeared across the front of it is all the elements of a big, modern city superimposed like a greasy thumbprint on the landscape. There was more rude graffiti, more garbage, more jerks, more crazy people shouting in the streets, more of a thriving sense of movement, 2007 style. But in an ancient fantasy setting. It was a weird juxtaposition.
People constantly ask me if I'm afraid to travel alone, and if not, whyever is that the case when the world is such a dangerous place. I realize, from direct declarations of such, offhanded comments and overheard remarks, that many people consider me to be at least mildly unhinged for making the choice to forego a stable home of my own in favor of living in a car with my boyfriend and supporting myself on a line of work that is unpredictable at best, hectically rootless regardless. But that brand of travel, to some people, seems to be relatively understandable compared to the frequent impulse I have to up and take off across the country or, in rarer cases, across the world all by myself.
I have made numerous such trips to various domestic and international destinations and of varying durations and each and every time I have been met with skepticism, doubt and vicarious fear that I would be able to handle myself in a faraway land and live to tell the tale. My response to that initial question is, no. I am not afraid to travel alone because there is no reason to be.
Because I am not stupid. Yes, I get a little nervous and stressed out when I'm embarking on a big trip, especially if I'm alone, but it's mainly due to all of the details that need attention, not due to fear. I take logical precautions to make sure that I am not an easy target for crime, do my best to avoid accidents, and that's the best I can do.
Look, it's not that hard. You shouldn't carry your passport and all of your credit cards and money in your purse and have it hanging off your shoulder without looking at it. That's stupid. You shouldn't wander around in unfamiliar territories by yourself after dark. That's stupid. You shouldn't loudly announce that you are lost, are carrying large amounts of cash and nobody knows where you are. That's stupid. If a strange, creepy man on the street invites you to his apartment for a glass of wine you should say no. To do otherwise would be stupid. These are rules you should follow no matter where you are. I haven't conducted any statistical studies on this, but I'm pretty sure that being in a foreign country does pretty much nothing to increase your chances of being a victim of a crime of chance, as long as you're doing all the basic things in your control on your end to not invite problems. You do what you can to prevent bad things that are easy to happen, and you avoid a LOT of potential trouble.
If (KNOCK ON WOOD) I am ever a victim of a random, unpremeditated crime, or an accident, both of which I sincerely hope never happens, I am reasonably confident that it will be something that was completely out of my control, a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The thing is, ANY PLACE could be the wrong place AT ANY TIME. Staying home does not protect you from this slight and statistically negligible possibility.
When I was a teenager my small, rural community was stunned by the horrific and terrifying abduction/murder of a young woman near my age. She had been out jogging before school one morning and crossed paths with a crazy man who she didn't know, but just happened to be driving past and happened to be in the mood to kill and maim someone at that particular moment. It was terrible and horrible and every kind of tragic adjective you can apply. The man who killed her was practically my neighbor and I used to regularly ride my bike right past his house. I was particularly disturbed by this incident not only because I was shocked and saddened that this girl's life was cut short in such a terrible way, but also because I was vividly cognizant of the fact that this literally could have happened to me. There was no real reason for her to believe that she would not be 100% safe if she went jogging down a country road by her home, just like I had no reason to believe that I wouldn't be 100% safe riding my bike down the exact same country road. This was a crime of chance, and she was tragically in the wrong place at the wrong time. If something like this could happen to someone in the seemingly safe and sheltered place I called home, there is really no reason to stay home.
Whether I'm at home where my parents live in Ohio, in Minneapolis, or in Europe walking around by myself, I am careful. That's the best anybody can do. The point I'm trying to make is that I wish people would not be so fearful. If I were paralyzed by fear I would have never, ever in my entire life, no matter how long I live, seen Florence and Rome or Reykjavik or Johannesburg or Tokyo or Hiroshima or for that matter Chicago or Arizona or Seattle or even Minneapolis. You might get murdered or befall some misfortune in some faraway exotic place, but you also might get murdered or get accidentally backed over by your own mother's car in front of your own house, or cut yourself shaving and get gangrene until all your limbs rot off and you die a painful, smelly death, but odds are that neither of these things will happen if you're looking out for yourself to a reasonable degree. Just be careful and do what you want to do. You're going to die someday anyway, you might as well do something cool that you can enjoy before it happens.