Camel from Kyzylkum

Italy

SHORTLY AFTER CHRISTMAS, we were transferred to Italy by train. The transit train stopped for 15 minutes at the Vienna railroad station, all the time available for our group of twenty to thirty people to get into the train car with our heavy suitcases. People were not polite or courteous to each other. The families with strong men went to the train car first, while the old and weak were behind. I watched in disbelief. The train car was too high from the platform and I knew I could not lift my suitcases by myself, yet no one was there to help me. I was the last one still standing on the platform. I was ready to cry. I thought I needed to leave my suitcases on the platform and get into the car or I would stay there in Vienna, forever. At the last minute, Irma’s teenage son, Daniel, jumped out of the train car and helped me with my suitcases. I will always remember his kindness.

My first impression of Italy was that it was quite dirty and noisy. After I got used to the spotless cleanliness of streets and places in Austria, it disappointed me to see trash on the streets and in public places, along with graffiti. For the first time, I saw homeless people sleeping on rags on the marble floor of the subway in Rome. I also noticed how Italians get pretty animated when they talk, compared to very restrained Austrian people. But with time, my opinion about Italy changed—I fell in love with the country, and I grew to love the warmth of Italian people. I came to love Italian bread. The Italian language was like music to my ears, and I even learned how to speak some basics.