Sometimes I think I'm psychic
I posted that last message about 90 minutes before my purse was stolen.
Minutes before it happened, I had a strange vibe come over me. I did not heed it, because I was in the midst of a conversation and didn't want to appear rude. Hours before it happened (totally inexplicably), I had removed a few things from the purse that would normally ALWAYS be in there ... things that would have been very hard to replace without much stress.
Lesson learned. Trust your instincts. Be quiet and listen to your inner voice. Learn to be still and see what goes on around you. Do not be so self absorbed.
The reality of all my identification, credit cards, money ... being gone in an instant ... gives that last posting a whole new meaning as I reread it now. The last post was ACTUALLY about losing something that you really THOUGHT you wanted, only to have something EVEN BETTER come along (which had indeed just happened). Rereading it now, I admit that there are some pieces of the purse-theft that just may - in a roundabout sort of way - be "things that I didn't want, but actually needed" (to twist the Stones' lyrics a bit). There IS really a silver lining in most clouds.
Silver Linings:
I learned that The Blind Guy* is a good friend with good instincts. I had a feeling, but now I really know. Also that - though we have not all met in person - the community of Expat bloggers are also friends. We are all, somehow, in this strange adventure together... and I couldn't ask for better virtual companions on the journey.
My passport ... the one with myriad entry/exit stamps that was bound to create more scrutiny than a person (even a legitimate person!) would like at the borders ... is now fresh, shiny and new.
My old purse (I Ponti black leather and beautiful, bought in Siena on one of those picture perfect days) did have a really really annoying sticky zipper, which I will never again have to worry about.
That stack of business cards from this winter's travel that I was supposed to enter into my contacts files? Gone. At least an hour of time saved.
I am reminded that money (even the equivalent of $800 that this little irritation cost me) is only paper. Our ability to laugh in times of high drama, to be externally calm when your inner typhoon kicks in, the care and concern of strangers in times of struggle - that is the real currency.
* FOOTNOTE: (If you've read more than three days of entries, you know I nickname everyone - a quirky nod to anonymity, protecting the innocent, etc, etc. Just to clarify, The Blind Guy is not actually visually impaired. Just how totally insensitive and politically incorrect do you think I am?!!?!)
Minutes before it happened, I had a strange vibe come over me. I did not heed it, because I was in the midst of a conversation and didn't want to appear rude. Hours before it happened (totally inexplicably), I had removed a few things from the purse that would normally ALWAYS be in there ... things that would have been very hard to replace without much stress.
Lesson learned. Trust your instincts. Be quiet and listen to your inner voice. Learn to be still and see what goes on around you. Do not be so self absorbed.
The reality of all my identification, credit cards, money ... being gone in an instant ... gives that last posting a whole new meaning as I reread it now. The last post was ACTUALLY about losing something that you really THOUGHT you wanted, only to have something EVEN BETTER come along (which had indeed just happened). Rereading it now, I admit that there are some pieces of the purse-theft that just may - in a roundabout sort of way - be "things that I didn't want, but actually needed" (to twist the Stones' lyrics a bit). There IS really a silver lining in most clouds.
Silver Linings:
I learned that The Blind Guy* is a good friend with good instincts. I had a feeling, but now I really know. Also that - though we have not all met in person - the community of Expat bloggers are also friends. We are all, somehow, in this strange adventure together... and I couldn't ask for better virtual companions on the journey.
My passport ... the one with myriad entry/exit stamps that was bound to create more scrutiny than a person (even a legitimate person!) would like at the borders ... is now fresh, shiny and new.
My old purse (I Ponti black leather and beautiful, bought in Siena on one of those picture perfect days) did have a really really annoying sticky zipper, which I will never again have to worry about.
That stack of business cards from this winter's travel that I was supposed to enter into my contacts files? Gone. At least an hour of time saved.
I am reminded that money (even the equivalent of $800 that this little irritation cost me) is only paper. Our ability to laugh in times of high drama, to be externally calm when your inner typhoon kicks in, the care and concern of strangers in times of struggle - that is the real currency.
* FOOTNOTE: (If you've read more than three days of entries, you know I nickname everyone - a quirky nod to anonymity, protecting the innocent, etc, etc. Just to clarify, The Blind Guy is not actually visually impaired. Just how totally insensitive and politically incorrect do you think I am?!!?!)
posted by Viaggiatore | 3/15/2006
5 Comments:
The worst irritation is calling all the credit card companies and being through the voicemail system!
TCB
You aound so grounded about all this! I am just glad that you were not hurt. Let me know if you need any important makeup replacements from the states!
Unassuming Princess
Yeesh Kel, I am glad you're okay (physically and mentally for that matter). You never cease to amaze me. (And what's with this crap about Papa Johns not being real pizza? Okay, maybe I'm not a pizza snob but I admit I love the stuff).
N.Winkust
Just glad that you are okay.
College Buddy BDK
I am, indeed, okay. More irritated and cranky at the annoyance of it all, mad at myself for slacking and not being on my guard, and nervous about my info being "out there" in the world than anything.
Big virtual hugs coming to all of you who asked. It means a lot. Thanks. xo, v.
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