Molto Fortunato!

Somehow, I knew I would have some adventure getting here to Bra. Everything was going too well: all my flights were on time, I slept almost the entire way to Rome, and I felt great upon arriving. After getting off the final plane to Torino I was lulled into a happy stupor: I felt like I had made it and I immediately had a victory espresso before getting on my first train.

Twenty minutes later, it all evaporated. I was riding a bus which was to take me to the central train station, but I never saw the stop I needed; it seemed I had ridden the bus too far. I asked an Italian man what to do, and he said to get off now and take the metro. I gathered 150 pounds of luggage, got off the bus, and made to cross the street. Then I realized, my small red backpack was still on the bus, with my wallet, passport, camera, iPod, and a snack sized bag of trail mix, which I was planning to eat on the train.

I had a small moment of panic, released a few f-bombs into the street, and then quickly calmed down. I had copies of my passport and back up debit cards in my other bags. I could always fly home and start over again if I needed to.

As it turns out, it didn't come to that. A young kid tried to call the bus company for me, but his phone was out of minutes, so he pointed me towards the police station, and I started walking. I wish I had left one of my heavy pieces of luggage on the bus. 15 minutes later I ended up at the training academy for the Italian highway patrol. Close enough. The secretary there, Fabio, was incredibly patient and eager to help. He called two different numbers and was able to talk to the dispatch for the bus line. Luckily, there were only two buses that made the loop I had been riding. He sent me back to the bus stop; both busses would pass by within an hour, and there would be good chance they have my bag.

After a few buses passed, I saw the "Dora Fly", the bus I had been on. I boarded the bus, and in my best Italian told the driver, "I'm the stupid kid who left his...." He stopped me and pointed to my bag, which was hanging on a hook right behind him.

I rode back to the station, an official checked my passport and filled out a report. I felt like hugging the bus driver, but that is not the custom here, so I thanked him and went on my way, feeling very lucky. Molto fortunato.