Of course I don’t enjoy being robbed, but as an adventuress, I have been robbed a few times, from waking up to some scalliwag trying to take my backpack out from under my head, to standing on a crowded bus and noticing some joker unzipping the zipper of my bag. Sometimes they succeeded, sometimes they didn’t.
So in the year 2000, I headed to a Study Abroad in Italy through UCLA. After spending a few days exploring Lake Como on my own, eating lunch in charming outdoor cafes, exploring villas and eating gelato, I lugged my suitcases to Florence. When I got off the train, I realized my small backpack was missing. Of course it was the bag where I kept my most important items: my passport, my return plane ticket, (pre-internet, you had to have the physical ticket), and my favorite red bikini. My heart sank and I ran to the Italian police in the train station. I tried to explain the theft through a combination of pantomime, charades, and saying, “Mi pasaporte, poof!” with a hand clap, over and over again. The handsome young officer nodded solemnly at my story. I was relieved when he held up one finger, pulled out an official looking paper, and went to another officer, to have something filled out in English. He proudly handed me the paper, and it said, “Will you go to the fireworks with me tonight?” His expression was so hopeful, and I felt bad shaking my head no. All the other police had formed a circle around us by this point, and they started slapping him on the back and speaking loudly in Italian. It was clear that no one was going to be looking for my backpack, and while going to see fireworks with this cutie sounded dreamy, I needed to get to my school. As I left the police station, he handed me a ripped piece of paper with his phone number and the words, “p.s. I love you.”
When I finally arrived at my school after missing my bus stop because I was playing peek-a-boo with a child, I told my professor about the stolen passport, she said, “You don’t seem very upset about it.” I shrugged. “It may sound crazy, but I learned long ago not to get attached to material possessions. I try to stay unattached to anything that can be lost or taken from me, even things with deep sentimental value. If it disappears from my life, then I think it’s onto its next adventure and it’s time for me to go on to my own next adventure. Passports can be replaced.” I glanced out her big arched window and saw a massive burst of sparkle in the sky. I went to the window and her eight-year-old son joined me, and together we watched the sky erupt in light, and I thought, this is all I need.
(I don’t know why people get all stressed out about passports. I thought my ex-husband was going to blow a gasket when I accidentally threw out all our passports after returning from a trip to Anguilla. Pain in the ass? Yes. End of the world? No.)
