...I would think I met an angel on Friday.
Getting on the metro in Barcelona. 12:30 am and I am very tired. After a long train ride from Lyon, including a nice jog at one station transfer, I was finally in Barcelona, and hoping that my hostel had not given up my reservation due to my tardiness. There were not many people on the platform. I was rushing onto the train with Oyka (explanation forthcoming) when in my peripheral vision I see someone else rushing to the train. I don't remember much about him, except that he was dressed in a trendy way.
I was clearly in front, but am used to people in Europe pushing their way onto metro trains, so I braced for the impact on my right side, because I had 3 bags on my shoulder while pulling another on wheels, so I was very top heavy. The impact, however, never came. A strange feeling instead. I looked behind me when I was safely on the train to see that the guy had not boarded. He had turned around and was walking away from the train, looking over his shoulder repeatedly. Over the next, say 3 milliseconds, several things clicked into place and I realized, as the metro doors
slammed shut, that my wallet was no longer in my right thigh pocket. What a chill and what a shudder crept up my spine as I watched him walk away and I was whisked away by the train. At this point, were I alone, I would have been in a serious pickle. Except there was Oyka. Flashback: Lyon.
Sad day. It's rainy and summer school is over. I woke up at 6 to say goodbye to Veronica, as she was heading back to America. I was a little excited about my upcoming days alone in Barcelona, but mostly depressed because my six weeks in Lyon were already over and I would not see most of my new freinds for at least a very long time. I was also sick with a cough and stuffy nose. So needless to say, as the taxi arrived to take me to the train station, I was not in a great mood.
But I love travelling by train, so by the time my train left for Montpellier, I was in better spirits. I had my ipod, and a new book, "Brave New World". I would talk about that book, but it would take a whole 'nother post. So I arrived in Montpellier in relatively good spirits. That was until I saw that the 1pm train to Port Bou was full. There was, however, another train that I could take that was leaving at 5pm. There was a problem though, the late train to Port Bou would mean I would miss the connecting train to Barcelona, but one problem at a time. So I settled down for what I thought was going to be a long and boring wait.
As I was sitting there, wrapped in thought about something, maybe coke icees, I was interrupted by a foreign sounding girl, asking if I would watch her bags for a second. When she got back we started talking and discovered we were both going to Barcelona and, since the train situation was so uncertain, that we should stick together. We are very different, her and I. She is the type of person you see in a movie, the sort of free woman kind of drifting from city to city, wherever suits her fancy. She was going to Barcelona because someone told her it was a very fun place, so she said 'okay, I will go there.' Me, I am not so wistful, and was surprised by her complete lack of a plan. On top of that, being from Turkey, she didn't speak any European languages, so she survived with pretty good English. I have had some instruction in French and Spanish, so I could piece sentences together occasionally. The point being, as I ramble, that we were an unlikely traveling pair, but that just made things interesting.
The train to Port Bou, strictly adhering to my bad luck, was late by over an hour. When it finally arrived we had given up hope of getting a connecting train to Barcelona and would try our luck in finding a hostel, or empty bench, in Port Bou. When we arrived in Port Bou our luck changed. The connecting train had waited just long enough for us, but we had to sprint in order to catch it. So now we were on our way to Barcelona, with only the slight problem of finding a place to sleep so late at night, but we had every confidence in our scrounging ability.
Cut to me, standing in a moment of agonizing stillness and realization.
So he got my wallet. I couldn't think, breathe or move. I can't imagine what would have happened to me, laden with all of my luggage, in a hostel environment. But Oyka reassured me that we would go to the police station at the next stop. So we had a plan, and my brain unfroze and, with the ability to think again, I could not stop thinking about how I could be such an idiot, such a dumb, American tourist with his wallet in an easy pocket and a million bags on my shoulders. More on this later.
At the police station, things became much more optimistic. The police officer showed me the phone that would connect to my credit card company (you would not believe how many times this happens every hour, he told me) and I could call toll free and cancel my credit and debit cards. That being done, the pick-pocketeer only really got 20€ in cash off me, nothing else. Just leaving me in an incredibly difficult situation. Thus the importance of my travelling buddy. We found a good hostel and got into an 8 person room for 3 nights. Since hostels require payment upon reservation, Oyka, with no complaint, paid for the 2 beds like she was loaning me a pencil. We are talking about 75€, a great amount of money to someone like Oyka or I, handed over like a chewed pencil because I was lucky enough to stumble upon her in Montpellier. I understand that its common to feel sympathy for someone in a bad situation, but to go and loan a complete stranger, in a foreign land no less, enough money to stay in a hostel is magnanimous beyond my comprehension. Two days later, just like that, she is off to another European city.
So, after a couple of western union transfers, I am back on my feet again and enjoying Barcelona. The beaches are wonderful and European sunscreen, you would not believe how much better it is than American. Veronica will vouch for that :) It doesn't leave you feeling all sticky and gross, and it smells quite pleasant. Not to mention it is extremely effective, I was out in the sun for at least 4 hours each of two days and with only one or two applications, I have no sunburns. I wish they made it like that in America.
The incident on the subway shook me deeply. I'm not talking about losing the wallet, everything was replaceable for the most part. I'm bothered that I allowed myself to be in that situation. And I'm bothered by my initial reaction. You don't learn much about yourself until you are put into an extreme situation, because self analysis in mundane situations is impossible. It is too easy to blame things on circumstances, and to make assumptions about yourself that are too kind. I have had several opportunities now in the last ~8 months that were very conducive to self analysis. The pickpocket being the most recent, obviously. I froze and I was scared. I started kicking myself instead of immediately and methodically thinking about my next move. I'm not remotely confident that, were I alone, I would have thought to go to the police immediately. I allowed myself to be marooned in a foreign city, with too much luggage, no money and no place to go. Sure you can say that I am relatively new to traveling alone and had no way of knowing how to avoid getting pick pocketed, but that is not a good excuse. Especially if you are in a place at night that is unfriendly to people that speak English. It scares me that I can make that grievous of a mistake.
I made another mistake. Anyone familiar with the Lianne debacle knows how that affected me. The details do not belong here, suffice it to say that I discovered that I had surrounded myself with a group of people, people I respected in the highest and considered my closest friends. It took one month for me to realize that this group of young people like me did not care in the least about me or my feelings. Were not really my friends at all. Two years of relationships were wasted. I was left seriously doubting my abilities to judge a person's character. The point of this anecdote is not to rant on my situation last winter, but to underline the self doubt that I faced then, and to relate it to a similar feeling I am facing again now.
Of course it is important to have one's assumptions and even arrogance checked every once in a while. But how does one balance confidence and self doubt in a situation like this? How can I have any confidence in my abilities to prevent or react intelligently to a different kind of obstacle? Should I accidentally hit someone with my car or if zombies started taking over the planet. How would I react? We imagine scenarios in which we react in a way that we would like to think we would react. Heroically, selflessly and magnificently. But the reality is usually not heroic. If you gave me the scenario a week ago: Someone just stole your wallet. I would have at least thought that I would not panic. I might have even imagined myself chasing the culprit down, and saving a baby carriage rolling down the stairs in the process. And maybe I would have been fine on my own. I can only say for sure that it was stupid to have a wallet (with
everything in it, in that easy pocket.)
As far as the zombie scenario, I've seen enough zombie movies and contemplated them enough that I might have a whole blog post's worth of material on the subject of how I would react. Maybe on a dull day I will explore that subject.
They would usually play some background music, a practice that I don't believe belongs in street music, and just play some simple notes to accompany the background music. Any fan of south park will know that the pan flute bands are necessary though.
