Who is Marelize?​

Marelize is one of the main characters in the adventure and also the narrator. She is 27 and originally from Namibia. She is a seasoned traveller and has visited countries in Europe and in the USA. She will not only describe the route being followed with its highlights, but also expand on her ten travel companions. It is important to follow closely what she says and build the characters accordingly. Marelize has a good sense of humour and is willing to tackle whatever adventure awaits. She’s not that good with bike-riding and prefers walking trials.

A part of me will always be in Italy

Marelize made her way to the campfire, where she slowly turned around facing the group. She held up her left hand and in the glow of the flames the fingers formed stripe-like shadows. There were only four stripes, and the absence of the ring-finger was ominous. “I lost it in Italy,” she said.

“Our cruise ship made its way into the harbour at Civitavecchia in the early morning hours,” Marelize started her story. The mentioning of an exotic location caught the interest of the hikers. In their subconscious minds they were always seeking the next adventure, longing for a higher mountain to climb.

She was on a seven-day boat cruise with her best friend, Anne, explained Marelize. The trip started off in Barcelona, from where they made their way past the coast of France and now they were following Italy’s boot, all the way south to where it almost touches Tunisia.

Civitavecchia was the closest harbour to Rome and it was almost unthinkable that they would not use the opportunity to visit the famous city’s tourist attractions. Long before the sun made its appearance the two girls were peaking out the porthole window, awestruck by the small stonebrick houses, stacked like ragged boxes on the coastline.

“This was the fourth day of our trip and we realised that we’re heading for a major disaster,” said Marelize. Somehow they miscalculated the cost of an European trip. Perhaps it was the cost of the paella in Barcelona, it could very well have been the sparkling prosecco in Genoa, but the reality was that they were fast running out of money.

While on the ship money was no real problem. The food was included and as long as you didn’t order exotic drinks, you were fine. The daytrips were more of a challenge. Anne, however, was adamant that they had to go see the Colosseum. She quickly convinced Marelize to get off the ship and wander deeper into Civitavecchia. From this 2nd century coastal town they still had to travel 70km southeast to reach the capital city.

“Anne suggested that we rent a cheap car,” said Marelize. As if they were seasoned travellers, the two young women made their way up the small cobblestone roads. It quickly became clear that it’s not going to be that easy finding a rental company while exploring Civitavecchia on foot.

A few blocks further they spotted an old Vespa scooter standing in a side alley. It was covered in a layer of dust and clearly hasn’t been used for some time. “Of course, we had to see if it would start,” said Marelize. The impromptu plan was to use it to drive around the town and find a place that rents out vehicles. “We planned to take it back straight away,” she said.

Anne was sceptical and protested vehemently, but Marelize was already sitting on the Vespa and kicking at the starter pedal. She paid no attention to her friend’s warnings and started fiddling with the fuel tap. “It was an old Primavera, so it didn’t need a key,” said Marelize. A few kicks later and the engine started sputtering.

Marelize’s first attempt at driving off did not go as smoothly as she would have wished. The Vespa jerked forward, causing Anne to lose her grip and she ended up butt-first in the road. The second attempt was slightly better, and the two made their way up the road.

“While we drove off we heard the shouts ‘Ciao tu!’ coming from a nearby shop,” Marelize continued. As the two girls looked back they saw two young men storming out of the shop, waving and shouting. “We realized we’ve got problems,” said Marelize. Images flicked through their minds of people captured by the Italian mafia, being tortured in dimly lit basement rooms.

Marelize twisted the left-hand grip of the Vespa, causing it to jump into top gear and the next moment they were speeding down a small alley. The girls kept on driving, turning left and right where possible to try and disappear in the abyss of small passages. “All the while we noticed that the men were following us,” she said. The men had jumped into a small Fiat Nuova and were in hot pursuit.

Somehow Marelize’s sense of direction got completely messed up. They were heading northeast, going out of the town. The men in the Fiat were also closing in on them – flashing lights, hooting and waving their arms. In front of them was a sign that said “Terme Taurine”.

“Anne shouted from behind that we must turn, so we followed the road to this age-old Roman thermal bath complex,” said Marelize. They just hoped that the presence of other people may stop the men from torturing them. The thought of being arrested by the Italian police was a much more acceptable punishment.

As they drove towards the ruins, the Vespa started backfiring. A few hundred metres further the engine died. The Fiat came to a standstill behind them a few seconds later and two men jumped out. “Anne and I just froze up, sitting on the Vespa waiting like two rabbits caught in the glare of a flashlight.”

“But now I first need a drink,” said Marelize and walked to where her rucksack was lying. After taking a long sip from her water bottle she returned. There was an eery silence as the group waited for her to continue.

“So did they cut it off?” asked Gerard. His Dutch heritage does not allow for subtleties and patience has never been his outstanding virtue.

“Of course not,” continued Marelize. “They were simply trying to return Anne’s handbag.” When the two girls sped off in the Vespa, Anne’s handbag stayed behind. The two Italian gentlemen noticed it and rushed to return the bag.

“It turned out to be the beginning of a wonderful day,” said Marelize. When the men heard why the girls borrowed the Vespa, they offered to take them to Rome. The Vespa was returned to its owner (who didn’t even notice it was missing) and the girls continued the journey in the little Fiat. “We visited the Colosseum, we used the toilets at the Vatican and we got close to the Pantheon,” said Marelize. She started telling them about the romantic restaurant on the outskirts of Rome where they ordered pizza when Gerard interrupted again.

“But what about your finger?”

Marelize became slightly embarrassed. “Oh, that was the Fiat,” she said. The Fiat 500 “Cinquecento” that they travelled in had what they referred to as “suicide doors”. The hinges are not at the front of the door, as with a normal car, but at the back.

“We arrived back in Civitavecchia late in the afternoon. We stopped and I paused for a moment to check whether any luggage was left in the car. The door was half open and I grabbed on the side of the door,” explained Marelize. As she pulled herself forward to get out of the car, a gust of wind came from nowhere, swinging the door wide open and trapping her finger in the gap. “I just heard a crushing noise and then everything turned black,” she said.

But the story did not end too badly for Marelize. One of their Italian “guides” was a medical student. Marelize was quickly rushed to the nearby hospital and what was left of the finger was stitched up.

“We made it back to the ship just in time,” Marelize continued. The pain was made bearable by the memory of an unforgettable day (and a handful of pills.)

“So, a part of me will always be in Italy,” Marelize concluded.