Tales of a Traveller

Knowing how reliable the Ghanaian post can be, when I said my farewells to a year in Ghana, I decided to forgo shipping my years worth of accoutrements home and instead decided to take them with me to my first European destination, Rome, from where, I would ship the luggage back to the United States.

Unfortunately, my bags had other plans and decided to stay in Casablanca, from where my colleague-now-traveling-buddy Kyle and I had made a connecting flight. After talking with the Italian flight-care personnel, I was convinced I would be receiving my luggage, albeit a few days later. So Kyle and I set about shopping for some of the essentials to hold us over until our possessions arrived. For me the most difficult purchase was contact solution. Having accidentally spent the overnight flight with my contacts in, my eyes were oxygen deprived and showing signs of serious struggle.

It took a while to find the first farmacia, where I sauntered around looking at the pictures on each box to try to identify contact solution (Rosetta Stone didn't teach me this valuable word in Lesson 1, which was the only lesson I came close to completing). Somehow, while the pharmacist was restocking the shelf, I ended up behind the counter. She soon emerged on the opposite side and began chastising me in Italian. Finding it humorous that on the first day in Rome, I was able to land myself a gig as a pharmacist, I joked that we had traded places. The actual pharmacist didn't find this funny. I really think she just didn't understand. After returning to my proper place as a customer at the counter, I pantomimed the process of taking out my contacts. Either I have good acting skills, or she saw my bloodshot eyes, but she was able to direct me to the appropriate place.

A few more stops and Kyle and I had everything we needed until our luggage arrived. It arrived 48 hours later. The positive side of this luggage delay was that it gave me ample opportunity to eye-up (and I certainly needed it given how bloodshot my eyes were) an appropriate shipping center. I found a total utility store - FedEx, Western Union, fax email, all-in-one, and paraded my luggage to the store.

As it turns out, the shop was a cash-only, non-receipt-giving establishment that had me seriously questioning its legitimacy. But I was not about to spend the next four weeks lugging around two suitcases, a travel pack, and a book bag. As I handed over my luggage, I said my parting farewells and prayed that the suitcases would arrive in DC. As the saying goes, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. But I felt like dressing as a Centurion and pulling out my sword would not have been the most diplomatic approach. Instead, I did what anyone without bargaining power would do. I agreed to their terms and conditions and prayed for the best.

A few days later, I received an email titled: info. It's contents was as follows. salve, ho bisogno da sapere cosa cè nelle valigge. grazie. I enlisted the help of my Italian friend Serena, who interpreted and replied appropriately. It turns out that the company needed to know what was in the suitcases. After a series of emails, I finally received a tracking number.

Thankfully my luggage arrived safely at home. My prayers had been answered. Which I attributed to my proximity to the Vatican.