The Red Telephone
The Incident at the Roma Termini
On my first trip to Europe, I didn't expect to be held at bayonet point.
Allen and I just departed the Ferry from Athens, arriving at the Brindisi railway station, where we boarded the overnight train to Rome.
The train was filling up, so Allen asked me to stay with the family; he would bunk one compartment away.
What a hoot. A mother and her two daughters were sleeping in the compartment where I chose to sleep.
I understand Italian but speak little. So I gesticulated and made faces using Italian when I could; as a storyteller, that came easy. The family did the same with their limited English. We got along so well, sharing the food they brought and laughing all night. They were wonderful.
When the train arrived in Rome at The Roma Termini Terminal, Rome's largest station, we hugged and said our goodbyes.
Little did I realize another adventure awaited.
I walked toward Allen, who was waiting for me at the information booth. As I passed the crowded terminal toward him, I saw an interesting phone booth with a bright red phone. It was opened on three sides.
The photo opp was irresistible; I pulled out my camera and began to take pictures from all angles. Looking underneath, from the side, and back. I was having so much fun until Allen called out to me, "Lu, put the camera away."
"Allen, wait, can't you see I'm taking pictures." I continued snapping away when I heard him call out again.
"Lu put the camera away," he said forcefully. "Allen, stop; wait for me to finish.
"Lu, look up."
I was shocked to see two Italian military policemen, the Carabinieri, walking toward me with rifles drawn and bayoneted.
Allen studied art in Rome, living there for three years; he knew they were not trying to scare me; they were angry and deadly serious.
Allen began to speak in Italian. Saying, in essence, "She's American; they don't understand that terrorists take photos as she's doing for places to hide explosives.
They continued coming toward me, ignoring him. Now I was scared.
I continued smiling, trying to look innocent.
Wait, I was innocent.
They walked up to me and demanded to see my camera bag. I reluctantly handed it over.
Opening the bag, they removed all my rolls of film and pulled the film out from the case, exposing it to the bright sunlight.
I yelled, "Stop, those are my photos from Greece."
Allen, in a loud voice, told me to let it go. Please, give them the film now. Lu, they're not playing games; they'll shoot.
When I heard the panic in his voice, I stood and watched while they destroyed my photos. Luckily, Allen had 8 rolls of my pictures from Greece in his carry-on.
As we walked away, Allen explained that we haven't dealt with this kind of terror in the States, but they have in Italy, so they are deadly serious here.
Crisis averted, we continued to Rome, Firenza, and finally, Milan. This was my first trip to Italy; I fell in love with the culture, the food, and the people. I found them to be so friendly and kind. I guess I fell in love with my Italian roots.
As I walked toward Giolitti's for gelato through the piazza Navona, I heard a man singing opera so beautifully I had to stop and listen. I also realized this may be why I sing softly when the spirit moves me. It's not my fault, my Italian roots. My family usually walks away from me.
One week after leaving Europe, there were reports of terrorists hijacking the Italian cruise ship MS Achille Lauro upon leaving Genoa.
"The men — who had been posing as passengers — were members of a PLF faction headed by Mohammed Zaidan (who used the pseudonym Mohammed, or Abu, ʿAbbās) and aligned with the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO)."
The militants shot a passenger, Leon Klinghoffer, an American, and then pushed him overboard while sitting in his wheelchair as his daughter watched in horror. They singled him out because he was Jewish.
The hijackers secured a large passenger plane for their escape, but when it was located, President Ronald Regan gave the order for American fighter jets to intercept it and force it to land in NATO air space in Sigonella, Italy.
It brought home the incident at the Roma Termini.
As always, thank you for stopping by.
Wow!