Tuesday

Rank this among worst feelings ever--getting your stuff stolen. Add ¨in a foreign country¨in parentheses.

Gone. Adios. Hasta forever. All of it. Everything you need. You turned around for one second and it´s gone.

Teléfono, billeta, tarjetas de credito, tarjetas de debito, efectivo, licensia de manejar, identificaciónes, llaves, camera digital, libro, abono transporte, varios cosas pequeñas, un poco basura...

Phone, wallet, credit card, debit cards, cash, drivers license, IDs, keys, digital camera, book, metro card, various small things, a bit of trash...

In spanish. In english. Over the phone. Electonically. And once more, for posterity, with feeling. It´s all gone. Not coming back.

But thank God or Allah or whatever that your passport wasn´t in there, or any copies of your passport, and that you have a little extra cash. Thank god you´re with people who are going to buy you food, lend you a phone, some money for the taxi ride home (because once you get everything sorted out, it´s too late to ride the metro).

Try not to think about how almost everything, everything, was in there. Try not to think about how you´re going to have to tell your señora, whom you met three days ago, that some creep has her keys, that you were stupid and didn´t watch over it closely. Try not to cry. And when you do cry, to your señora at three in the morning after you get home, try to cry in Spanish. Try to explain everything in broken spanish between shaky breaths.

I´ll be fine. I´ll be fine. I´ll be fine. Actually, everything worked out pretty quickly. They tell me that sometimes a theif just takes the money and chucks the bag and that later the police will find and that sometimes, sometimes, it just shows up at the office one day, with your things in it.

So I´ve pretty much resigned myself to the fact that i´m not getting it back.

Other than that, now that it´s Friday and classes have started and I´m finally getting my bearings, Madrid is fantastic.