i got robbed in paris

Blog Post 23.

Yep, I, an aware and attentive young woman (who clearly still has a lot to learn), was pick-pocketed a few nights ago in my favorite city (thus far) in the world. The culprit was good, too. But the strongly-built Italian man (also a victim) seated near me, was better.

It happened like this:

Yes, sometimes the things we love hurt us. But sometimes they also make up for the harm. Madison and I were in the bar in the lobby of our hostel. It was a busy Saturday night and more than the guests of the hostel were down there enjoying the evening. I wedged my purse between the two of our chairs and the couch behind us- a seemingly safe spot. We were looking at photos on my computer. After about half an hour, the group of friendly Italians sitting on the couch behind us asked us to check our belongings. I looked around and noticed my purse in a different spot, the wallet half-way sticking out of it. My heart sank. I found my cash and coins gone- everything else in my wallet and purse still in place.

The Italians were already in action. One of them (a large, built one) asked us if we new the man sitting a few meters away while another explained that someone had reached inter her zipped wallet within her zipped backpack that was wedged between her and a friend on the couch, and taken over 250 euros. We said no, we did not know the man then people started speaking in various languages, moving outside, following him. Madison and I and spoke with the hostel staff, hoping to get ahold of footage from the security cam near us, and, with the Italian woman who was also a victim, pondered the great skill of the thief.

After a few minutes, Italian Man & Co. returned, heavily breathing. He handed me the amount I said had been stolen (fortunately for my broke self, it wasn’t all that much). He explained that it was the unknown man and gave the impression that he made him regret his actions.

After an outpouring of thanks, Madison and I continued our evening, lesson learned, purse safely tucked on my lap, newly skeptical of the world.

After getting through the day’s photos, we decided to see if the rooftop deck of the hostel was open. It was. We looked out on Paris at night.”I still love this city” I said to her.

The spectrum of memories I have alongside my bestfriend…