On our journey thus far we have encountered a number of men (and a woman) that we have labelled as ‘That Man’. ‘That Man’ is a term of endearment that we have coined, describing an individual that has helped us, two rather ditsy British girls, in our hours of need so far on our trip.
- The woman at the first petrol station we used in France (the first ever in the continent). We shared no common language. The petrol went in the tank, but our credit card was refused on the first go. We were rather hysterical, after a rather challenging few hours of learning to drive on the wrong side of the road. Despite her lack of English, and our lack of French, she smiled at us, and beckoned to us to try again. It worked! She grinned at us, wiped her head in mock relief and sent us on our way, with a full tank of fuel.
- The Italian men who gave us directions to a hotel in Turin. After getting lost in the one way systems of Turin, and had been driving around for five hours, we were exhausted and desperate. After Betty, also verging on hysterics, virtually begged them for directions, the kind gentleman told me to her to ‘calm down’ (In English!) and gave us directions to our hotel.
- The man at the hotel in Turin. We were absolutely exhausted when we stumbled into the hotel. It was late. He gave us a nice room, and hot water for drinks. TWICE. What a legend.
- The paramedic men in Rome, who kindly took our picture in front of St. Peter’s Basilica.
- The police man in Rome who explained to us how to get home after the trains stopped running for the night.
- The local ‘Italian Stallion’ for driving us around the bella Italian countryside in his open-top car and bringing us fruit and yoghurts!
From Kate because Betty missed out: The volleyball team playing on the beach at Terracina. All of them.
(written by both of us collaboratively, like our shared wardrobe)