I take my phone out to snap some photos but the screen is dark.Shit.I click on it a few times, then twist in my seat to hide it from the sun some more. When I still can’t make it brighter, I take my sunglasses off and squint.
Fuck.
I somehow have 5 per cent battery.
How?
Did my video call with Abby earlier totally drain my battery? I could have sworn it was fully charged. I try not to panic, but of course, I panic. A few notifications come in all at once, and in a rush to read one that’s come from the ship, the phone crashes out.
And then it’s dead.
No, no, no…
I stand up, looking around at the neighbouring businesses. Would any of these quaint shops or stalls have phone chargers? They must do, surely. But all I do is freak out. I haven’t been mindful of the time. I was waiting for the one-hour reminder to return to the ship. Clearly, that came through ages ago!
Double fuck!
I launch out of my seat and back into the café.
“Excuse me?Sati? Molim vas.” It means, “Time? Please.”At least I bloody hope it does. I only learnt a handful of phrases before flying out and most were in Italian.
The man gives me a pitying smile as if he can tell I’m a very uncultured British woman – which, alas, I am. It is a deserved reaction.
Thankfully he replies in perfect English. “It’s a quarter to three.”
My eyes go round. “Did you saythree?”
He nods before busying himself with something else.
Bugger.
RUN.
I bolt out of the café, my hat blowing off in the wind as I go. I grab it off the cobbled street and grasp it in the same hand clutching onto my bag and run as fast as my sandals will allow me – which is very inefficient and quite slow, in all honesty.
It doesn’t help that I also appear to be lost! And hot. It’s too hot to be running anywhere. The sun is relentless.
How have I managed to completely lose track of time? I’m never so careless! This is my punishment for having too much fun. No wonder my phone’s dead, the number of photos I’ve taken was enough to kill the battery alone.How am Ithattourist?!What an idiot. This is why smart, uptight Sara exists. This is why I should have gone on a tour.
Now look at me!
They’ll wait for me, I tell myself, as I bolt down a dead-end alleyway and have to double back on myself. I practically throw myself at a passer-by.
“Excuse me?” I gasp. “Do you know the way to the port? Ships? Erm… You know, boats?” The tiny elderly woman gives me dagger eyes.
She says something that sounds like a swear word and waves me away with her hand.
Good.
“Have a great day!” I call after her.
Just perfect!
Surely, I can find the main square or at the very least an English-speaking tourist?! I can’t be so lost I can’t even find my way out of the city. That’s mental. Am I so used to having map apps at my disposal that I have become blind to direction?
Answer: yes.
I am screwed.
