Slovakia. Pay it forward
Heading back to Prague, I drove through Slovakia, the 105th country I visited to-date. I was very much looking forward to seeing and doing some exploring in the Tatras Mountains, a lovely, landscaped area in this country and partly in Poland. None of it happened. The weather simply did not cooperate; even when the rain occasionally stopped, the cloud cover precluded me from seeing anything other than what was right in front.
I overnighted in the town of Martin, hoping for more cooperation from the weather the following day, but to no avail. Yes, I might as well have skipped Slovakia, although from the little I could see, I could tell that this would have been the prettiest scenery of the four countries tour.
If you are wondering about the title of this post, here’s the story. As I was driving on the state road that would eventually lead back to the Czeck Republic, the rain intensified. An apparently older woman was standing with two bags on the side of the road, hitchhiking and getting wet. I felt bad for her, so I stopped and asked if she spoke English. “Ne” she said, “Slovak”. I made her understand where I was going, indicating the city of Brno, in Czechia as my next stop. She nodded, “Brno, OK”, she said.
She literally only spoke Slovakian, with zero knowledge of anything else. I could not figure out her age, as she had several missing teeth and what she had were brown, but her skin looked smoother than the 50+ I thought she was. There was not going to be much communication, although we both tried as best as we could. What I did understand was that she had no money, no family of any type, and she was heading to Warsaw, in Poland, some 1,500 kilometers away. I stopped for coffee at a rest stop and invited her to join me. I used the cashier at the rest stop, who spoke English, to help me ask her a few questions. I understood that, somehow, she was heading to Warsaw where she had been given a job opportunity in a factory that makes cars. She had to be at work the following day. “How?” I asked? There is no way she could make it there by morning. She had a very serious face and I could tell she was very worried. I also understood that the employment agency was going to set her up with a place to stay.
Once I figured out what her route was, I thought it’d be good for her to let me drive her all the way to Prague, and she could continue on from there. She nodded and said “Prague. Super”. The long ride was a quiet one, she was very tired and I showed her how to bring down the back of the seat so she could rest a bit. Arriving in Prague, all I knew was where my hotel destination was, from the GPS, but I had no idea where I could drop her off to conveniently hitch the next ride. Traffic became chaotic and there was jumble of highways overpassing the others. It was at this point that she broke down crying. My heart went out to her; she has zero money, does not know anybody where she is going, does not speak Polish, has no family member that’s alive. Still, she has to be in Warsaw, that’s her only option, and if she does not make it by tomorrow it may all be for naught. I tried to calm her down, said “Look we’ll stop at a café, and I’ll try to help you sort this out”. Then, as I got off at my exit, near the airport, I thought, “I can’t abandon this person here, she is too helpless”. Since there are very low-cost airlines in Europe, I thought, what the heck, let’s check out what a flight to Warsaw would cost; for sure it won’t kill me, and I would definitely be doing a good deed for this poor woman. Her eyes lit up.
Alas, low-cost flights fly to other areas of Poland from Prague, but not to Warsaw, and LOT airlines wanted the equivalent of $450 for a one-way ticket. I could not do it, I said. But if I went this far, I decided to try another option. I drove her an hour away to the train station in the center of town and bought her two tickets, as she would have had to change trains on route. She’d arrive in Warsaw at 6AM. Her train would leave in an hour and a half. I stayed a few minutes with her and managed to ask her when she would get paid. Not until October, she said. The obvious next question was how she was going to feed herself between now and then. She had no idea and started tearing up again. Oh well, if I went this far…
I gave her $40 and told her not to exchange it until she got to Warsaw, and I also gave her about $6 in Czech money so she could get some food on the train. She was clearly embarrassed, had tears in her eyes and only could manage to feebly say “Super”. We exchanged a brief hug and I exited the station to head back to the airport area and my lovely hotel in a huge Czech stable with over 150 horses. I never even took a picture of her. Her name was Maria.
Part 2 – Rome, the Eternal City
I left Prague the following morning and flew back to Rome. The last few days of this vacation would be spent here, in the company of two dear friends from Chicago. Sandro had returned to Italy several years back and has a lovely house with two acres of land in the Roman hills. Gianni, on the other hand, flew down from Chicago so the three of us could again be together.
We had a couple of great days together, although we all wished we were still in our 20s, rather than senior citizens. Sandro’s family is wonderful. They fed us like there was no tomorrow. His grandchildren were super-behaved and rode around the property in their go-karts, and motorized three-wheelers that I would have killed for as a child.
I also managed to visit a good friend of my sister Laura from Chicago (Daniela) who, after 40 years Stateside, now lives in the area. We spent time in the town of Castelgandolfo, the summer residence of the Pope. It was a lovely visit for us both.
This is the end of the blog for this trip. Again, thank you for tagging along.
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