"La calle no tiene dueno" --local grafitti

I apologize to my adoring public (consisting of my father, my grandmother, and my mother when her firewall doesn't intervene) for my slight lag in blog posting. Several things have intervened, such as The Day On Which I Get Older, The Evening In Which Essential Friend Threatens to Go Into Anaphylactic Shock, The Email Which Makes Me Worry (unnecessarily, thank god) That A Far-Away-But-More-Than-Essential Friend Has A Major Health Problem, and other such capital-case-worthy events. Also some sleeping, some Spanish-movie watching, and some general goings-on about town.

But to get to the story of today's post. Last Thursday I was walking home from work with my big lovely bag. I love this bag because it contains a computer, but doesn't look like a computer bag, so it's not quite as nerve-wracking carrying it around. And it screams, "I am a teacher." You can credit my mother, who seems to give me a new bag for every profession I enter, each one being perfectly suited to the task....without pretension. How this can be accomplished is absolutely beyond me, but somehow she makes it happen.

So this bag is very discreet. Nonetheless, it does still, on an average work day, contain my computer and everything else of value in my possession.

I am hyper-vigilant here in Valpo, but let me stop you before you decide that this is a horrifically dangerous city. Petty crime is very common in Valparaíso--to hear some Chilenos tell it, you'd think you'd be lucky to get through the day without being beaten and robbed. Note to my previously mentioned, very specific adoring public, above all, but also to the world in general: this is absolute bull. Yes, it is a port city in the lyrical sense. Yes, you are likely to get mugged at one point or another. Yes, you absolutely need to pay attention. However, you are relatively unlikely to get injured during these events, however unnerving they might be. If you think about the violent crime that occurs in most major US cities, you can hardly go around wringing your hands about Valparaíso. I grew up in Boston, a very safe city in general, but every year we have cases of children being hit by stray bullets, teenagers assassinating each other in gang fights, and random people being assaulted for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The major difference, I would say, is that in the US there are "good neighborhoods": places where people have money and don't need to worry about safety; and "bad neighborhoods": places where people do not and you might very well get shot if you're in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Valpo is different in that it has neither. There are no outstanding neighborhoods of extremes (of that sort...we have plenty of other extremes) within the city limits. This is one of the things that I love about the city. Here, people don’t wall themselves off in gated communities filled with people exactly like them. The most beautiful houses in the city are often across the road from falling-down buildings. To be sure, there are neighborhoods with less and more crime. However, I would look at it this way. Instead of having a map with red zones, as you would in Boston, New York, Washington DC, there is a map with varying shades of orange. You're never totally safe...but you're never counting on grave bodily injury, either. Don't call me naive.....I recognize that more serious crimes than purse snatching occur. But, as in the states, you're more liable to be injured or killed by someone you know, rather than a person off the streets, sadly enough. Trust is fabulous, trust is dangerous, and all this is universal to any city in the world.

In any event, the street crime here is mostly of the low-violence theft variety, and here is the story of my first encounter with the same.

I was walking home from work after a night class. This particular class obliges me to walk in the dark through a sketchier part of town, but that has never been a problem. This incident, actually, happened on top of one of the wealthiest hills in the city, and barely 2 buildings away from my pasaje.

I was trying to find someone to go with me to a local band concert (where, beyond having a good time, I was hoping to make some contacts for my Atenea project). I was very near the top of my pasaje when I called a friend, and he asked to call me back. So I walked the round-the-block way to circle around to the bottom end of the pasaje--there's no service once you're on the stairs.

About halfway around there a skinny boy--he couldn't have been more than 17--was stopped leaning against a doorway, by all appearances waiting to be let in. He had passed me a few minutes earlier but I didn't think much of it, obviously---people are always moving around at different paces. Plus, it must be remembered that this was at 7:45 in the evening....hardly the witching hour.

It is a statistical truth that the majority of motorcycle accidents happen within 5 miles of the rider’s home. Why? Because you relax too much.

Perhaps this was the case for me as well. I was certainly not thinking that this kid might be a potential thief. Luckily, I have it drilled into my head that if a bag doesn't go across my chest, one handle is always in a death grip. And this served me well this time.

I heard a quick step behind me and at that point I believe I snapped out of my complacency. Directly following, there was a hand on my shoulder where my bag strap sits and I knew immediately what was going on.

Now. You are not supposed to fight back in these instances, I know. However, in my defense, I seem to have come up against an extremely lackluster thief, and feel that given the circumstances my behaviour was absolutely reasonable.....except in the direct sense, that is, possessed of reason, which it certainly was not. This was pure instinct. Who knew that I had any? Apparently when you take a girl from the suburbs and threaten to take away her computer, you awaken the reptile brain.

Essentially my hold on the bag made it so that he and I ended up facing each other, each with one hand on either side of the bag handles (as in, each of us had both handles in hand, with both hands). All that really went through my head was "no! no! no!" which is what I actually yelled, which may have been perhaps on some subliminal, more intelligent plane, "computer! computer!". But I sincerely cannot offer more than that. We pushed back and forth for less than a minute and I managed to yank it out of his hands. I fell into the wall and took off running in what must have been an incredibly amusing manner: I think the word “flailing” would come into play somewhere.

This is the part where I offer sincere thanks to my mother for her excellent taste in luggage and accessories, because Señor Delincuento couldn’t even be bothered to follow me. I imagine he might have been a bit more devoted to his task if he’d realized that he would be walking off with a laptop.

Frankly, I think he was utterly surprised that I didn’t run off screaming the second he came near me, because I honestly do not believe that I am capable of winning any sort of physical contest. I have a friend (unfortunately now on her home continent) who had an incident with a thief. He tried to take her phone. In her way of putting it, which I like better than my own, she “roared at him.” He was so startled that he dropped the phone on the ground and ran away without it. So, if you happen to be an obvious gringa and someone tries to take something from you, I would recommend screaming at them before you give it up. Worked for me, and for my friend. Apparently blonde gringas are reputed to be delicate flowers around here. So the sheer shock value might work in your favor.

My friend called back as I was crossing the doorstep of my apartment.

“Oh I’m good, I’m good,” I said, “But I almost got mugged since I called you….two minutes ago.”

The odd thing as well is that directly before this incident occurred, I walked by a graffiti tag that said something equivalent to "steal from the rich, give to the poor." My first reaction was a sort of abstract political agreement. Then, as I was waiting for the light to change, I became unsettled as I realized....I supposed that means me, as well. I read about a year ago that to be in that fabled 1% of the world's population that controls 85% of the wealth (or some other unspeakably large number), one only needs US$60,000 in assets. Which is a pretty staggering idea. I am unsure whether this has changed recently with all the economic changes. Nonetheless. There also remains the fact that most people in the world live on less (often much less) than US$2 a day.

Now, $60,000 is not something that I have. However, given the second number there ($2 a day) plus the savings and assets I do have, and the fact that I am very (very! despite recent events!) young.......well, essentially, I don't think I'm loaded, but globally speaking I certainly am. And that is rather unsettling, in terms of ideals and justice and all of those things.

However, this kid looked like he was doing ok for himself, to judge by apparel, so, although I might be the rich from whom one ought to steal, I still don't think I needed to give my computer to some delinquente.

And that is the story of Meredith and the Thief.