follow the leader
We were in a car following two Italian strangers on a Vespa scooter up and down narrow streets in Praiano on the Amalfi Coast. My husband and I looked at each other and said, "I really hope this isn't a terrible idea."
Our adventures in Italy had started earlier that day. We landed in Rome, picked up a rental car, and started driving toward Praiano.
What we had NOT done was get SIM cards for our phones at the airport. Someone -- cough not me cough -- was feeling impatient and wanted to just get on the road, rationalizing that we could pick up SIM cards along the way.
Guess what? That was a terrible plan.
Because here's what happened: We would be staying in an Airbnb in Praiano. Our host had asked us to message him through the app to give him an estimated time of arrival. While at the airport, I used wifi to message our ETA, which I padded by a couple of hours because I've learned the hard way that things always go wrong.
Which is exactly what happened in this case.
We hit traffic.
Google Maps was acting flaky so we had some wrong turns.
We hit more traffic.
More wrong turns.
And course we were unable to find SIM cards en route, nor had we found a place with free wifi.
You know that feeling, right? The one where you are stressed for hours because you don't know exactly where you're going and you're constantly on edge that you're going to get so lost that you'll never be found again. Compound that with the fact that we don't speak Italian, other than a few key words and phrases, so driving and navigating roads and cities presents some challenges.
We eventually made it to Praiano and started looking for our Airbnb. We were a couple of hours later than our padded ETA. As it turned out, we also did not have the correct address for our destination, which we discovered when we got to where we thought we were supposed to be but clearly was not the correct place. (Clue: It was an empty lot with a couple of cows in it.)
Luckily, I had printed a paper copy of the Airbnb listing and our messages with our host before we left. And while we were standing there, with the cows mooing, and me very close to tears, I noticed four older Italian men watching us. I walked over and asked them in Italian if they spoke English. They did not.
I had an Italian phrasebook and somehow was able to explain that we were lost. I showed them the now-wrinkled printout I was clutching in my very sweaty palms. The men looked at it and started talking amongst themselves. Rapid fire Italian and accompanying hand gestures erupted as the four looked over the Airbnb listing. One of them noticed our host's name and number, so whipped out his cellulare and called. The other three added their own comments to the conversation being shouted into the phone. More gesturing helped punctuate what was being said.
The call ended and one of the men looked at us and said, "You follow." Two of them hopped on a Vespa scooter, said andiamo, and waved at us to stay close, which is how we found ourselves scrambling to get into our car and attempting to keep up with two speed-happy Italian men as the sun set over Praiano.
Five minutes later, we were in front of the apartment. This being the Amalfi Coast, everything was built going up, up, UP the hills. Our Italian guides started climbing the many stairs to our front door. They showed us where the keys were hidden in a flower pot, demonstrated how the keys unlocked the front door, and waved us in with a flourish. Then off they went, zooming down the street on their little scooter. Silence ensued.
Fifteen minutes later, our car was unloaded and we were sitting on our terrace drinking wine and staring out at the Tyrrhenian Sea.
And since that trip, any time someone has suggested that we not spend time getting SIM cards at the airport when we land, I simply say, "Praiano" and that ends the conversation right there
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