#globalchallenges

Since we couldn't chat, they invited me to join their circle watching them play backgammon. I didn't understand the rules of the game and had no one to ask, so I just sat aside studying how they played.

After some time, someone gestured to ask where I was going.

"Greece," I said.

The person mentioned another place name, but I wasn't certain, so I showed him my ticket.

After looking at my ticket, he started shouting. Suddenly, the entire waiting room was in commotion. I looked at them in bewilderment until someone finally said to me in English: "You! You go! Now!"

What did he mean? Weren't we all waiting for the same 8 o'clock ferry? But looking at the time, it was already nearly 7:45 p.m.!

Several people pointed desperately toward a direction outside, urging me to hurry. Heavens! How did I not realize they might be waiting for different ships? What was I doing?

I jumped up, grabbed my bike, and rushed in the direction they pointed. But the dock was so large, and it was already dark—I had no idea where the ship was.

"Quick! Quick! Quick!" Looking back, one of the backgammon players had rushed out and was pointing toward one of the ships.

"Thank you!" I thanked him in Italian and pedaled toward the ferry.

The port was huge. It took nearly five minutes of riding to reach the ship, just in time to be the last "vehicle" to board.

"Hello, are you going here?" I double-checked before boarding, but I couldn't pronounce the destination, Patras, correctly, so I showed my ticket to the crew member.

"Yes, dear," replied the crew member, a small man with a long beard on his face.

"Where can I park my bicycle?" I asked, wheeling my bike across the metal plate between the ship and land, seeing the entire space crowded with large trucks.

"Dear, just leave your bike here. Don't worry, I'm here. I'll keep an eye on it for you," the long-bearded crew member pointed to a spot near the stairwell.

I wheeled my bike over and locked it to the ship's structure. Although it was unlikely anyone would steal my bike at sea, the lock gave me peace of mind!

The ferry was much larger than I had imagined, and the wave motion wasn't as strong as expected, but I still swallowed a motion sickness pill.

A ferry ticket cost forty euros, or seventy euros with a bed. After budget considerations, I chose the ticket without a bed. Fortunately, there were sofas in the cabin, but all the more private spots were occupied with sleepers, leaving only the restaurant entrance area.

This was a high-traffic area, not an ideal place to sleep, but lying down could reduce the feeling of swaying. So I decided to put image concerns aside, used my backpack as a pillow, found a comfortable position, and closed my eyes to enter the swaying dreamland, ignoring the gazes of passersby.

Around noon the next day, the ferry finally arrived at Patras, Greece. Although my seasickness wasn't severe, I had taken medication twice and could only maintain a lying position. Each time I tried to sit up, I immediately felt dizzy, but it was still far better than I had anticipated.

I excitedly set foot on Greek soil. Although this was still part of the European Union, it felt somehow different—at least I had never been to this country before.

After organizing my gear, I continued on, trying to find directional signs in the desolate dock, but couldn't find any. "At least indicate the direction of the exit!" I complained to the azure sky.

Riding out of the dock, I randomly chose a direction, hoping to encounter someone to ask for directions. Fortunately, not long after leaving the dock, I met a mother pushing a stroller.

"Hello, could you tell me which way is the city center?" I stopped on the road and politely asked the mother for directions.

"You need to go back in that direction," she pointed toward the way I had come.

How surprising—this mother spoke fluent English. It seemed I had really left Italy.

After riding back about two hundred meters, I saw around twenty people crouching in the bushes on the opposite side of the road, as if lying in ambush for something. They looked left and right at the road, and when large trucks stopped at a scale-like place, seven or eight of them would surround the truck to talk to the driver.

"Maybe they're helping unload cargo?" I muttered to myself. Curious about what they were doing, I unconsciously stopped to watch.

The truck driver ignored these people and drove away. Puzzled, I was about to ask them what they were doing when the mother I had asked for directions earlier approached with her stroller and said to me: "Don't get too close to those people. They're illegal immigrants trying to find ways to smuggle themselves into Italy."

My strongest impression of the term "illegal immigrants" came from "Enrique's Journey." When reading the book, I learned about the protagonist's background and the bitterness that made his journey necessary, and I hoped he would successfully reach the United States.

Looking back at those people hiding in the bushes, I didn't know who they were, what hardships they faced, where they were going, or whether I should wish them well or be afraid of them.

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Closing Remarks

✨ Your Turn: Have you ever had an encounter that changed your perspective on a complex social issue? How did that personal experience compare to what you'd previously learned through media?

📅 Time Frame: This story chronicles my journey across two continents between November 2013 and October 2014. Published independently in Taiwan in 2021, it is now shared as an English serialized novel through AI translation, connecting with friends worldwide to share this journey of personal growth.