“I am going to phuck you up” he tells me…

December 25, 2011:  At night while Cecile and I sat on the stairs outside a church, this man came up sitting close next to me requesting money for food.  With the size of his eyes, looking as if he was missing his eyelids, the money was probably going to feed something, just not his stomach and more like a habit.  The addicts are so creative to get a fix that I read they will sell the food you buy them, so that they can purchase more drugs.

Since asking nicely for the money didn’t work he decided to be more aggressive by doing an air punch towards my face saying, “I am going to phuck you up” making it clear that he wanted money.  I was for certain that there were police officers close and said loudy, “ahhhhh, you want the policia – policia?”  Grabbing my arm, it was obvious that he didn’t want me to go to them, perhaps permenantly banning him from the plaza where just yesterday my pocket was picked.  Breaking it free, I shuffled Cecile off as I pretended we were going to get the police.

People can at times be so predicable.  It is dogs that are unpredictable.

Unknowingly a hand slides in my pocket…

December 24, 2011:  Seeing some temporary friends after a failed attempt to go to a midnight mass, Cecile and I sat down with them for a drink at these makeshift bars in the Praca da Se in Salvador.  Not going over my two drink limit, yet I failed to realize the power of a Caipirinhas - a popular yet potent drink here in Brazil.

While sitting in the Plaza, the sharks (thieves) were circling us sardines (tourists).  It started with a kid walking up to the table and casually grabbing someone’s cigarettes and walking away…assuming that nobody was going to do anything – and, nobody did.  Next it was a dirty drug user asking for money standing around the table.  Oddly she leaned over my shoulder as she was reaching for some object on the table – remembering that I was happy at that moment that I don’t have hair in case she had a nice colony of lice living in her crusty unkempt hair.

Later that evening after getting back to the hostel, I was laying there replaying the night in my head and something accrued to me.  I normally don’t carry money in my top shirt pocket but tonight was the exception, holding it for Cecile when we went out.  Getting up and going to my shirt, I reached into my pocket and no money was in there except for perhaps the fecal residue from the woman’s fingers as she quickly slid them into my pocket.  I could do nothing but smile and say Merry Christmas because she was good.

I have not been so fortunate the past month.  It all started with my camera, then my computer and now this.  Even though events like this will add to my water cooler stories when I am working again 10+ hours days under the florescent lights, I just I hope this doesn’t become a new trend. 

The Great Heist!

November 25, 2011:  Getting on my last bus of the 17+ hour journey to Cuiaba from Bonito, I pulled out my Kindle to study some Spanish…but, I then I decided to get some sleep instead.  After putting my Kindle under my jacket so nobody could take it out of my hands when I slept, I prepared my area to sleep.

Checking the under the seats there was about a 1.5 inch gap between the foot rest and  the floor of the people behind me, to prevent any wandering hands from entering my backpack.  This was good since it meant that I didn’t have to sleep with my all my electronic equipment on my lap, assuring a better night sleep.  I still slide a shoulder strap around my leg, dropped down the other leg ramp on the empty seat next to me AND I put my leg down on the side of my leg ramp to block side entry. 

All of this is not done due to paranoia, but it is to counter what happened to other backpackers and to reduce the odds of it happening to me.  South America is a war zone between tourists and thieves…we are the pray and unfortunately can easily be identified.

What happened next is still not very clear but this is what I can remember.  In the middle of the night, I had an awaken dream that someone was hovering over me and put something on my skin to put me into a deeper sleep.  I was so tired I could barely open my eyes and was unable to focus.  Wanting to come out of this middle point between sleeping and being awake, I couldn’t.  My body felt like every part weighed an unbelievable amount.  I felt so exhausted that I just wanted to go to back sleep but was also trying to fight it feeling that I was being robbed.  Not able to fight it any longer I fell back into a deep sleep.

Waking up in the morning, there was a beautiful sunrise.  Writing off what happened last night as a strange dream; I pulled my backpack out from under my seat to grab my camera I noticed my pack was on an angle and not directly underneath me.  With my strap still around my leg I assumed that I picked up my leg during the night.  Seeing that my bag was unzipped and after further inspection, my camera case was open - wondering if I left it open last night and it slide out of my backpack onto the floor.  I began to look under the seats for a loose camera I didn’t see it anywhere. 

After my thorough investigation…I accepted that I was stealthfully robbed from the seat behind me which was now empty.  The thief must have tried to fit it between the 1.5 inch crack while in its case, but due to it not fitting, they opened it up in complete darkness and then pulled it out.  They also got their hands on my international adapter to charge my electronics. 

I could only falsely smile since there was a lot more they could have stolen such as my SLR camera, computer and other items, but fortunately they were too big to fit through the cracks.  I still have 2 more cameras, but it is inconvenient and frustrating that I gave them an opportunity to steal my good midsized camera.  I even sewed some attachment on my backpack which 97% of the time, I have it locked.  But the day I didn’t do it…it happens.  They were good at what they do so in a way they deserved it because I feel I am also good as for keeping my equipment secure.

As for my strange dream…I thought about it a little more.  Could I have been drugged?  If so, why wouldn’t they have taken everything, not just what Mr. Tweezer hands could pull from under my seat?  Thus, I have decided that my awaken dream as just that.  I feel stupid for what I had happen, but I am sure there will be other stupid moments in my life.

Putain!

Give me your money!

October 29, 2011:  I was told the Lapa area in Rio was an amazing place to be on a Thursday night.  It is not the norm for me to go out drinking, but last night I bent the rules by an exuberant amount making it till about 4am.  I started off with consuming a few oversized cans of beer and after that, I will only say that it grew to great unimaginable proportions.  For someone who lacks poundage and typically has a two drink self imposed limit for certain but good reasons, I was dangerously drunk. 

At around 2am, I was seeing double and at times triple as I attempted to walk down the street with an Israeli man trying to find a local samba bar we visited earlier in the evening. I was completely oblivious to what was going on when we were approached by a 20 year old man who I originally thought was trying to start a fight.  He first pointed a thick wooden skewer in my face ranting about something in Portuguese that I could not understand.  He then turned away from me and toward the Israeli, after he saw that I didn’t understand anything and was having a difficult time trying to focus on what he was pointing at me.  

I can only guess that the guy was expecting to make some easy money – as he buried his chest into the Israeli, sounding like a broken Portuguese record.  It was quickly turning into a possible fight, knowing that I needed to get focused…which my body seemed ready, but my brain had an difficult time coming out of a drunken spin, as I began to calculate my impaired blows if the man crossed an unquestionable line.

With us both continuing to walk forward throughout the whole charade, the man eventually stopped repeating himself and spun away.  Asking my friend on what he was saying, he told me it was something in the effect of, “give me your money.” Oh…maybe I need to make sure this two drink rule doesn’t get broken again. 

The evening continued to get more and more memorable as the minutes ticked away.  I read in my travel guide that prostitutes tend to visit normal establishments and blend in with the normal clientele.  With this said, when any girl would speak to us, I would lean over to my friend and whisper, prostitute.  A few were more obvious than others…and others just got the label because I was well past my two drink limit. 

When two model quality girls that asked if they could sit next to us and then asked for us to buy them some drinks, I feel this was one of the times I correctly identified their profession as I leaned over and this time I accurately said prostitute.  My friend then gets up to go to the restroom - nice move I thought...leaving it up to me to deny them a free drink.  Once he was gone, I apologized and told them that he has my money. Feeling really awkward since they didn’t speak English, nor do I speak Portuguese - but more importantly I was not interested in being a future recipient for some new herpes cream.   I excused myself as I got up and stood a little bit away hoping my friend was going to quickly come back so we could leave.

Today I woke up quite earlier given that I went to bed so late – or early…it depends on what time zone you live in.  I wanted to wake up earlier but the guy in the bunk bed across from me who told me he was going to set his alarm on his iPad to wake me, was just laying there with his eyes wide open - not at all in a rush to wake me up.  Once getting off my bed I saw the reasoning why…it was the tall slim blonde woman from Belgium who was on the bed below me, with her legs gaping open as she slept in her underwear.  I am going to have to label her as a good girl…she was not sleeping bottomless.  For those that have been following my blog…I wrote a post on June 16, 2010 labeled, “Do good girls sleep bottomless…in a hostel?”  According to Google, this is still the most visited post on my blog…sad, but numerically true.

Attacked by magical street people wanting my backpack

July 23, 2011: I heard over the years about this magical “disappearing backpack trick” being performed by street people, but never seen it in action. Though today, I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to see this risky feat starring…me. I was even selected out of the crowd of others outside the main bus terminal in Buenos Aires, Argentina. In a way…I felt…special.

After a 4 hour bus ride from Rosario on chairs as large as my grandparents Lazy Boy’s, Cecile and I stepped off the yellow brick road as we walked from the main bus terminal to the subway. Three weeks ago we were informed that these 2 blocks were dangerous…and I thought…what can possibly happen in 2 blocks? I happened to discover…a lot.

It was 3pm and the daylight was working in our favor. The walkway littered with multitudes of street people selling anything and buying everything ranging from clothing, TV antennas, watches and anything you thought you would never need.

ACT 1: The sidewalk began to narrow, funneling us like cattle. I noticed that I somehow obtained a grayish thick substance on my hand. At first, I thought it was the excrement from an extremely large bird or flying hippopotamus. I then noticed the back of my pants and backpack were also hit quite badly, quickly thinking and quickly eliminating the thought that I sat in something. It all clicked…we were being attacked by the magical street people.

Highly alert, things became as clear as a professional fighter in the ring. My backpack morphed into a turtle shell attaching strongly to my body, making it difficult for anyone to remove it, while giving my rolling backpack a rock climbers grip.

In order for this magical trick to properly work, you need to stop and let a selected street person that is placed there to help you clean up the mess. This is when the involuntary transfer of your belongings takes place. It all happened just like clockwork. It was a classical textbook theft that was taking place and ACT 2 started right on Que.

ACT 2: A women motioned that I had stuff all over me. I thanked her as I continued to walk in the funnel knowing others were close by…waiting…waiting for me to make a mistake so that they can make a dash into the crowded masses and side streets with my most important material weight.

Making contact with Cecile, I informed her that we were being attacked. She has also heard about this trick since her friend was hit in Buenos Aires, unfortunately losing that battle.

There were so many people around us it was becoming difficult to digest what was going on. Cecile and I stuck together, not stopping. Arriving at the entrance of the subway station we took the battle underground. We made it to an open area where some small designated shops and restaurants were. Putting ourselves at a vantage point, we now had an unobstructed view, being able to see if the street people were going to come down after us…and this they did.

ACT 3: While Cecile opened my rolling backpack for some baby butt wipes, I scanned the area, watching her back as we communicated about what was taking place. Then there it was…a man comes up to me and asked if I wanted a tissue as he pulls a tissue out of his pocket, dangling it. At first, I said “no thank you” in Spanish as he continued to hold the tissue out, acting as if he was trying to help. This is where I was supposed to take off my turtle shell and begin the cleanup process – completing the magical trick of the disappearing backpack.

I didn’t move from against the wall, grabbed it and thanked him…wiping my already clean hands. This is when I think he knew, that he was compromised. Stepping back, the man stood there looking at me. There was no reason for him to have come from down the stairs. Placing a quick call, he walked back up the subways stairs he just came down…leaving another suspicious man leaning against a pole, pretending that he didn’t know the guy.
ACT 4: The street people seemed to be working in a 3 person team. Next up was with the women who originally informed me above the ground about the mess on my backpack. Her credit card would not work to get her into the area where the ATMs were – hinting if I would help swipe her in with my card. This is an act that I was not familiar with. I didn’t help her, but it did hurt my feelings that they insulted my intelligence.

Noticing a police officer who was not that far away, Cecile and I moved closer to him so that it would give us a better spot to evaluate how this situation was evolving.

Once making it on the subway, I could do nothing but laugh and feel as if I was just earned a bonus backpack - it should have been stolen. But, not this time…not this time. There will be a time that someone will get my turtle shell and take home the prize…I am sure of it. But to get it from me…they have to have a bigger head or simply be brutally forward.

Shoulder bag accidently stolen…or not

December 4th, 2010: New traveling security rule created. Rule #1234: Don’t approach subject who has possession of your belongings until 90% certain of the intentions for the subject in question.

I say this because when soaking in the water I noticed a group of seemingly law abiding individuals in their early 20’s or late teens place all of their stuff around my shoulder bag that I had sitting next to a rock wall. One oddly even placed their shorts on top of my bag. As time passed they ended up moving to different hot springs and one guy seemed quite awkward by how he was looking around and then casually grabbed my shoulder bag with about $800 USD in belongings and walked away.

Perhaps it was a mistake I thought, confusing my stuff for one of his friends? Not giving him enough time to make it clear if it was a mistake or not, I came up behind him, putting my hand on his shoulder telling him that was my bag. He apologized saying something else that I didn’t understand.

Was it done on purpose or…not? It would have been nice to know his intensions but I would like to think that it was an accident thinking my filthy shoulder bag was one of the many girls he was with. This reminds me that I need to not relax my personal security policies, if anything, add a few more rules. So this was how Rule #1234 was created: Don’t approach subject who has possession of your belongings until 90% certain of the intentions for the subject in question. This will in turn then give you greater options as for what the next step will be…whether it is legal, verbal or physical.

ATM card stolen…

November 30th, 2010: The past 20+ months I have held my ATM card really close to me. To be more precise…on my leg in this skin colored holder that has accumulated 20+ months of dirt and calf sweat mixed with about 500ml or so of anal sweat that made it down to my calf on those extremely humid days. The odor itself helped keep all unauthorized…people, away from it.

But…a few nights ago at about 10pm, I was walking around alone in the dark streets of San Agustin del Valle Fertil that contains about 3,903 people. Stopping, I ever so briefly lowered my guard and it happened…my ATM card was stolen. It wasn’t just stolen, but the thief had the audacity to give me a slip of paper, admitting to taking it. The thief didn’t even need to touch this protective holder of mine resting on my calf because I handed it over, thinking that the...ATM machine was going to return it to me with the cash I kindly request. Instead, it consumed my card. After several failed attempts calling the bank and the ATM company - they seem to not believe in 24 hour customer service…resulting in a cancelled ATM card – my lifeline to Argentinean Pesos.

Now, I sit patiently waiting in the city of Mendoza for my new ATM card after two women rescued me by extracting me out of San Agustin del Valle Fertil with the assistance of Hertz rental car. Will I ever get this card of gold, I am not sure. After spending hours and hours on the phone dealing with the incompetence of the banking industries customer service associates and supervisors for their supposal premier customers, I think…I think that I should be getting my new card within the next week or two.

I am happy that I have all the time in the world and there is a lot to do here – such as to continue being a wino since this is Argentina’s top wine producing region. From now on…I will have to carry an extra backpack filled with cash or better yet, just travel with two ATM cards. Lesson learned…the hard way.

Backpack stolen…free ride in police car

August 1st, 2010: Sitting at a local restaurant in Arequipa with my new friend from France, I took up the job of being a tour guide since it was her second day in South America. For some forgotten reason, Ms. France II, went to grab something out of her bag and she reached and found nothing. Looking around on the back of her chair, under her chair and around the restaurant it could not be found. We double and triple checked, and even looked around some more…and some more. It was gone.

Once upon a time it was sitting right next to her chair as we sat in the corner of the restaurant. There was only one person that could have had an opportunity to steal it…and it was him, without us ever noticing a thing. It was her second day in South America…second day on vacation and she already lost, her $500 camera, $600USD in cash, her travel journal from the previous year which she was going to add to, passport, credit card, travel guide, a 15-inch dildo (a lie for that item – are you paying attention?) and some other misc items.

The police came by to pick us up and we sat in back as we went down to the station. You will not believe this but I knew enough Spanish to translate for my friend. Of course I was not perfect but I was able to help complete the police report in Spanish.

So, at the moment, I am now on high alert with thievery…thinking that, my day will come. My losing my wallet yesterday keeps me from getting that stolen. About that, I think I left it on my lap and it dropped to the ground as I was paying for a tour to see dead bodies - lots of them. Since I have left it on my lap quite often the past 15 months, it was bound to come up missing some day and yesterday in Nazca was that day - losing only 20USD - could have been worse.

Thief in the hostel caught

June 27th, 2009: I caught an American backpacker with my groceries unknotted and wide open with the eggs out as he was helping himself to my margarine. Giving him the benefit that all he was doing was heating some margarine in a frying pan…I placed my items in the bag, knotted it back up, not saying anything about the food and asked him how his day was going, being as sociable as I normally am to him. I could tell he felt awkward, with no need to say anything about my groceries.

Not able to put my groceries in my room, I was thinking how I could prevent the further pilfering of my goods. Since my head hair is not long enough to sabotage my own margarine or other food products, this means I would have to farm from a less…desirable location. Thinking that this might give them an idea to put more additives in my products, I will take the easy route and think of it as a charity donation for the needy – not to mention being much more sanitary.