No matter how far we looked or searched, the bitter realization that his bag is truly gone was sinking deeper and deeper. Yet, my stubborn, irrational mind refused to accept it and continued to glare at poor Peruvian souls who happened to meet their gaze with mine.
When I frantically ran outside of the small Chinese restaurant (and he quickly followed), as soon as the cool Puno night air greeted me, I knew it was too late to catch the thief that snatched his bag. It was more than 5 minutes ago, and God knows where he was. I went to the direction that's probably opposite of where the thief was heading, and started to sob tragically, angrily...no, furiously. I hate this city.
He soon caught up with me, his eyes unpleasantly surprised, still in a bit of a denial, yet they reflected stronger and much calmer soul. For a victim, he's in a much more better shape than I was. He tried to calm me down, but I wouldn't have it. How could he be so careless? To put his guard down like that and hang his beloved messenger bag on the chair, making it a very plump object to steal???
And this is after I have been guarding him for such a long time, since the morning. He wasn't feeling well, so I stayed with him almost the whole time. But my protection wasn't enough. He was careless. He wasn't feeling well. And I couldn't help but feeling like a failure. His bag, filled with valuables and more importantly, his passport got stolen during the group's Thanksgiving dinner (what an irony) in Puno, Peru.
Just less than an hour earlier, the 11-person group sauntered out to the nightlife in Puno, having decided on Chinese food dinner at a restaurant near the hotel, which the receptionist recommended. Their Lake Titikaka tour was over, the group was about to do restaurant hopping and buy some souvenirs before starting their trek back to the United States the day after.
But of course, the reality was nothing like the plan. When it was time to shell out 4 soles per person, that's when he realized his bag was no longer hanging on his chair. I looked at him very angrily, asking "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" and ran out. The rest is history.
The group hustled to help, some accompanied him to the police station to file a police report, some got information for the Indonesian and US embassies in Lima, some re-booked our flights for tomorrow from Puno to Lima, and some (tried to) be with me. But I was too angry, too disappointed, too f*&$(d up for any of these kind souls to reach me. From the beginning of our trip, I had warned him to be on guard at all times, and if anything happened to that bag, that's the worst possible scenario that had to be avoided as much as possible. Well, God has a different plan, apparently. And I was none too pleased about it.
The living Thanksgiving nightmare in Puno continued when my mind helpfully reminded me of my own theft incident during my train ride from Roma to Firenze, Italy. Thank you, my mind, for making the wound deeper, my mind more unstable. Thanks very much.
Shortly after midnight, the group was somewhat satiated with some Cusquena beer and pizzas some brought back to the hotel. He got his police report, back-up documents, embassy information, and both of our flights for the day after were adjusted. Such great companions, wonderful friends....but with my current state of mind, I could only be ungrateful. The night wind grew stronger, and it's close to impossible to recover his bag. We both went to sleep after I threw some very angry, highly frustrated screams and defiant sobs, and he could only make me promise that tomorrow we'll see things through.
The Day After Thanksgiving
We rode a taxi from Puno to Juliaca to catch the earliest flight to Lima. Along the way, I glanced through all the people we passed by, vainly trying to catch a glimpse of his bag. The ride ended sooner than I expected, and we saw a group of police force in front of the small airport. Juliaca was tense for the past few days, what with the violent protest that also resulted in some angry people throwing rocks to our tour bus just 2 days prior. His calls to the US embassy before we depart bore little results; the operator just sounded nonchalant and not at all concerned with our emergency situation. Our flight to Lima also featured some breath-taking views of Cusco valleys from above, but I was much too deep in sorrow that refrained me from taking any pictures.
Arriving in Lima and getting a taxi that would take us to the Indonesian Embassy proved to be a minor challenge, mainly because my resolve to be strong and positive was so easily crumbled. The even from the night before kept replaying in my head, and I was so fed up and frustrated with the whole situation. Nevertheless, the taxi we ended up with had proven to be really helpful in the end; I guess he took pity on us after seeing me in the brink of bursting into tears at any given moment.
The Indonesian Embassy representatives were supposedly going to lunch at that hour, but after hearing our case (and our restless begging), they postponed their lunch plans and went back inside to help. Within an hour, he got a new passport. After wishing us good luck and helping us hail a new taxi to get us to the US Embassy, the Indonesian Embassy representatives sent us on our way, not forgetting to say, "Welcome to Lima, Peru".
All of that rushing apparently meant little for the US Embassy. We talked with two different people; the first one a man, later he brought out a lady to talk with us. But the message was the same; it's impossible for them to help him get a new visa since there's nobody left to interview him and the system was already shut down for the day. No matter how much we argued and asked for help to settle matters on that same day so we could all go back together to the US that night, it was not meant to be. He was told to come back on Monday. We both left dejectedly, hesitant of his uncertain future.
Hotels around the US Embassy was expensive, but thankfully he found a place relatively nearby (30-minute walking distance from the US Embassy) at Surco neighborhood from Bookings.com. We walked there, and it was apparently a big, gated house. Upon arriving, the first thing we were told was that it was a mistake we could booked via Bookings.com, because they did not have any rooms left. Nevertheless, the lady owner welcomed us in so that we could look for a new place for him to stay with her laptop.
It was a really nice house with such tasteful Peruvian touches. I immediately felt at ease in the living room, with the big sofas with the fireplace, surrounded with religious paintings and statues. I thought that it's a shame he could not stay in this place...it looked so cozy and quiet, and he would be able to calm down and gather himself quietly.
The internet was slow, and after 10 - 15 minutes, the search for another place for him to stay was getting stagnant. The lady's English was adequate, but I caught that sometimes she did not get the right understanding at the first try. So I said that only he's looking for a place to stay; I was to go on my scheduled flight back to the US. Then her eyes widen in understanding, he smiled at him and asked his name. When "Christian" came out from his lips, I knew right there and then that he got a place to stay. Divine intervention; thanks be to God.
I felt like a considerable burden was lifted off of my shoulders when I knew he got a nice place to rest for the next several days. The lady was really kind, the house was big, really nice, cozy, and well-kept, and the inhabitants (including a dog, a cat, and a parrot) were very well-behaved and cute. Later on, he found out the lady and her husband also has a male peacock, a bee colony (for harvesting honey), and a hen (for eggs).
When we rode a taxi from the "hotel" to Lima airport to reunite with the rest of the group that night, the drive brought me back to Jakarta traffic 15 - 20 years ago. Interestingly enough, it also had me thinking of Jakarta traffic that could've been. Lots of crazy driving, streets littered with mototaxis (or bajaj in Indonesia), minibuses (mikrolet), lots of people, however there were not that many motorcycles, plus the gas emission was cleaner. It was a nostalgic ride that lulled my mind more at ease.
That night, the group minus him went back to the United States. I still felt upset that he was not by my side, however I felt better knowing he got a nice place to stay. I know at the back of my mind that he would be fine, that he would be back with me shortly, but a remnant of my restless, frustrated mind kept me worrying non-stop. When he disappeared from Lima airport's exit doors, I was not really sure what to think.
The Aftermath
The rest of the group made it safely back to San Francisco on the following day, but the mental adventure hasn't ended for me. For his part, he started his own mini-adventure in Lima for 2 days while waiting to come back to the US Embassy on Monday. He saw a lot of things, observed historical places in Lima that almost got me jealous, if not for the fact that his fate for going back to the US was still pretty much up in the air.
I could not sleep, breath, or eat properly during those two days. We talked over the phone several times, but it did little to improve my fatigue. On Sunday, going to church and talked to the Father and deacon helped, but a new wave of uncertainty and depression hit me later that night. I was readying myself to face worse situations.
On Monday morning at 7 am, I checked my phone and was rushed with a state of panic. There was no update coming from him. It's supposed to be 10 am in Lima right now and he should've updated his progress with the US Embassy. I was in near case of heart attack - couldn't focus, couldn't do anything, could only think of "what ifs" of things; getting more downhill due to one stupid theft happening when we were sleep deprived and weren't exactly thinking straight in justifying our actions.
Then his message came. His visa was approved. He could pick it up on Tuesday, or if possible, later that afternoon. Suddenly, my breathing function went back to normal.
He was unexpectedly helped out a great deal by the same lady we met on Friday, when we were pleading his case. She and another person escorted and assisted him through the whole process, a tremendous help since he could not speak Spanish (beyond bargaining for prices). Later that afternoon, he got his visa. The group then helped him get his original flight rescheduled and he flew back to the US that night.
