In which I learn another lesson

Walking through the streets of Rome after getting in from Crete we see our building. Oh god laura that place is an entire DUMP. We need to get out of here. Our Hostel is in very very old building and supposedly had good reviews but when we got to the reception we were shown to a tiiiny cramped room with a million books and four people passing papers around. Oh, you know we do not have any room here. They say and send us to another hostel a few blocks away. Walking with my backpack and camera bag we sweat our way over and I stop by and bury my face in Gelato. When Laura and I planned our trip to Italy all we really wanted was to eat... and eat... and eat... Its been pretty good so far. Walking towards our hostel we meet another backpacker, Swedish girl named Anna also going to the same place. We head towards our building and find out we are staying in a church. A sweet Filipino nun opens the big locked door and we are in a quiet, clean, and secure hostel room with soft foam beds and simple but clean sheets that smell of floral fabric softener. In the breakfast room big paintings of saints and Jesus grace the wall and several other Filipino nuns who all look related run in and out of a separate apartment where they pray in the morning and in the evening. A big difference from my stay in Athens. We sleep peacefully for the first night and with Jesus looking over us in every room we feel sort of protected.

Jesus gave me a false sense of security. Lets just say that after two nights in a nunnery, I am now 200 dollars poorer and have a rip in my bag where a thief knived his/her way through, reached into my emergency pouch and removed my emergency money. We are trying to figure out if it was Anna, the other backpacker, or another backpacker, or maybe the nuns were not nuns? I do not know but I guess sleeping in church does not mean you are protected.