Police accompany

 I head towards my house which is a 25 minute walk when I am not wearing high heels My house is quite far from the city center where I work. I live in a beautiful flat with marble floors and a wrap around balcony, but my neighborhood is like the “bronxs” of Bari. Many of the foreigners live in the area and it is not the nicest part of town, but I like it here. My street is filled with rubbish, stray cats and tons of motorcycles. Men of all ages hang out fixing their motorcycles, talking, joking and drinking coffee. At first they would blow kisses at me, yell out “bambola” “bambolina” (which is a small doll, or Barbie) “bella” among other things in dialect and try to talk to me, I ignore them all. I am used to the attention I receive here, and do not pay much attention. Aftersome  time and the “boys” realizing that I live  and work here and word of mouth travels fast in Southern Italy, they start giving me respect and saying “buongiorno insegnante” (good morning teacher) They started protecting me, and talking to me always asking where I am going and what I am doing. I have fell in love with my "hood."
I walk out of school on a Monday night at 10:00 p.m. I teach an individual student who owns a boutique and the only time he can come to English lessons are late at night. It does not bother me and many of the other teachers finish late. Usually the teachers and some students go out to an amazingly delicious pasta restaurant after a day of classes; we talk, laugh, eat and drink wine. This night was different; I walked out alone because my student and I were talking for a half an hour after class. It was dark, it gets dark in the winter around 4 p.m. and every store and restaurant closes at 8:00 p.m. There are a few restaurants open late, but few and far between and they are in the “old city”. I notice a man behind me and did not think much of it, but I was aware and was paying attention. I had a gut feeling to walk faster and cross the street. The man turned right down another street and I felt relived. I stayed on the same street and two minutes later he was in front of me. He had gone around a building to cut me off. I almost ran across the street, he followed.  Then I cut across and was walking in the middle of the dimly lit street that is usually bustling with people during normal hours. My heart was beating in my chest, and my instincts kicked in full gear. I stopped near a group of people and pretended to be waiting for someone while I phoned another teacher. He stopped and was staring at me. I saw a young man and asked him if he spoke English. I grabbed his hand and explained what was happening, he held my hand and walked me home.

  The next Monday was my birthday, and the teachers, some of our students and the man I am dating went out to dinner. It was a beautiful celebration filled with pasta, pizza and lots of vino. We laughed and talked about our day and about “us” become a large Italian family who screams and talks at each other all at the same time. Dinner was filled with love and laughs. I have been sharing every moment with the other teachers and know that the reason I am in Bari is to be with all of them. I have never been so close to a group of people so fast. I am in love with all of them equally. I have a family I never expected to have; it has been the best surprise. By this time I had forgotten about my “follower” and was consumed with Cello’s visit, my friends, vino and my new man.

The following Monday the teachers decided to go home after work, and the miss independent woman I am declined the offer my “big brother” made to walk me home. My day was filled with love and gratitude and I thought of all the things I loved while singing “Santa baby and jingle bell rock” out loud as I skipped home. “Santa baby I have been an awful good girl Santa cutie”….I wave and a man that owns a shop and another that owns the coffee bar I go to every day. I was just about to belt “think of all the fellas I haven’t kissed” when a funny feeling tickled my tummy and stretched into my heart. This wasn’t just the ordinary feeling when I am thinking of the boys I haven’t kissed yet…but someone behind me, watching my every off beat dance move. I turned around and the drum in my chest intensified, as I came face to face with the man who was following me two weeks ago. In a quick lightning speed panic I raced into a pizza shop on my street. Yes, he followed me all the way to my house and we were face to face where I live. There was no one in the small pizza shop but I heard the sound of a woman in the kitchen pots and pans clinging together, the shop is a take out place with a solo table and a cashier stand. The man peeked his head into the shop and was staring at me. I took my chances and headed toward the kitchen in a panic of adrenaline and tears. The woman knew who I was and I explained what was happening in Italian. Who is following you? She asked as she poked her head around the corner, which man the one who is smoking? Yes, si si. She told me to stay with her and have a seat. She closed and locked the restaurant and made me a coffee. We sat chatting in Italian as she stroked my shaking hand; I instantly fell in love with her. She has the softness of a mother but fiery temper that would scare any stalking man. She told me to wait here for a bit and her husband would walk me home when he returned from delivering a pizza. When he arrived he took my arm and walked me back to my house, I thanked him and thanked him. I got to my house and he made sure I was safe inside before leaving. I turned the key to my dark house and everyone was sleeping. I went into my room and was thinking what had happened. I could not sleep that night and was afraid of the dark, I kept my blinds half opened and locked the door to my room. I could not help but wonder in the dim light of dawn if I had attracted this stalker into my life. He is on the same frequency as me, and I have been thinking about men that follow me and call out to me in the streets. It is tiring and it happens daily. It is not the first time I have been followed but the first where it is the same man. What can I do about this? How can I be safe and not attract attention. As I contemplate shaving my head, I make coffee with my flat mates and explain what happened the night before.

  I sat in the office at my school waiting to talk to my boss. They devised a plan where this Monday the police would follow me from a distance and hopefully scare this stalker man. I am trying to bring positive energy into my life, and not worry about what is going to happen today and tonight. I am thankful I am loved by all the people that surround me.