In the Canal Near Rome—with My Leg Not Severed by an Anchor (Hallelujah)

Our stay in the canal near Rome is memorable for a bicycle and an anchor The Fiumicino Canal near Rome, with its laid-back jumble of summer cottages and repair yards, looks like a tributary of the Ob somewhere near Kemerovo. Murky waters flow out to sea, carrying branches and, at times, small logs; half-rusted barges wait either for cargo or for an honourable end. And the dogs are just like ours... And good old “mañana”—it had already begun here, near Rome :). During our week-long stay, we became thoroughly steeped in Fiumicino’s cosy, slapdash spirit, and here is what came of it: First, we sank a bicycle The bicycle, unloaded from the boat, stood right at the edge of the “platform,” waiting for its riders. Laduska was intently checking the vehicle’s technical condition and... accidentally dropped it into the canal. Good thing she didn’t go in herself: a depth of more than 3 metres, the current, and completely opaque water would have made the search-and-rescue operation rather difficult. So, while the female half of our family, young and old, lamented aloud or in silence (because a grown woman really shouldn’t wail over a bike), the captain began trawling the bottom with some sort of micro-anchor on the flimsiest little rope, with the odds of success at 1 in 100. Strangely enough, the bicycle was found literally 10 minutes later and was even hauled out by our combined efforts, to the sailors’ whoops and hollers. After cleaning the mud, leeches, and old shoes off our transport, we set off for Rome. It was our only excursion to the Eternal City that week. We reached the Italian capital in an hour on a comfortable bus, having stowed three bicycles in the luggage compartment. The rest of our time in Fiumicino, we did laundry and cleaned up, I wrote an article, and the children raced barefoot along the quay and sprayed themselves, the grass, and dog poo with a hose... \... there’ll be a photo here very soon too :)...\ And there was evening, and there was morning: the next day And that was the day I nearly became disabled... Operational necessity required us to heel the boat over so that we could bolt an anode onto the bottom. The manoeuvre was carried out with the help of an Archimedean lever (the masthead was tied ashore to something enormous). The captain, having donned a wetsuit, bravely plunged into the canal’s cold, filthy water. Having successfully completed the mission and hauled the captain back aboard, we began turning the yacht through 180 degrees, wanting to come alongside the wall with the other side to. To avoid hitting the neighbouring yacht, I was fending off at the bow and along the side. On my feet—‪yachting‬ shoes with no socks; in my hands—a large fender. Andrey was at the helm. The allowance we made for the current turned out to be less than the current itself, so we came gently up against the neighbouring yacht. With all my courage, I rushed to push it away by hand (I mean, 14 tonnes, you understand!). While I strained to do my Schwarzenegger impression, the neighbouring yacht’s anchor slid smoothly onto our deck, pinning my leg against the coachroof with its sharp edge. Realising that I couldn’t pull my leg free, that the boats were still closing, and that it already hurt terribly, I screamed my husband’s name in an inhuman voice. I frightened him so much that he leapt over to me in a single bound and did, after all, push our 14 tonnes away from their 14 tonnes. Either he really is that strong, despite his slender build, or my scream sent him into a state of temporary insanity :). Having bid farewell to the killer anchor, I spent the rest of the manoeuvres trying very hard not to bawl, with my leg stuck in a bucket of ice-cold water. I got away with a soft-tissue injury and limped for about a week. Another centimetre and I’d have been on crutches for the rest of my life... For some reason, I remembered the riddle about the combination of stupidity and courage... (It’s about Dunno, in case you were wondering :)) In short, our Roman adventure went more smoothly than the one a year and a half earlier in the Canary Islands . Back then, the arm I had put out awkwardly to break a fall required surgery at an extortionate price.