Today, I gave up a little bit. There, I said it. I’ve written it actually. I haven’t said it out loud, but I’m getting close. The defeating act in question is not a tragedy. Quite simply, my phone was stolen. I could leave it at that, as that’s pretty much the whole story, but there’s a part of me that feels the need to retell, look for clues, give fair warning, and simply validate. The last time I saw this happen, I also came home and blogged about it. In detail. And it hadn’t even happened to me. I did so because you still want evidence after a violation. You want solidarity. You don’t want self-pity to win.

Some pics from the Plaza de Armas here in Santiago. Their inclusion will soon make sense.

Once again, I’m phoneless, just like my first two months here. I’m without a lifeline to my husband and without the peripersonal space that is a phone at the end of an arm, secure in a hand–at least to significant portions of modern-day society. I know, it’s only a phone. Thankfully, the thief didn’t make off with my bag or my wallet. My person is one hundred percent intact and safe. But I did have my property stolen out of my dress pocket, which is deep enough and so well folded into puddles of magenta fabric that one might not even guess this dress has pockets! Except that when I was standing on the metro platform, I was using the phone to call my husband to ask where I needed to transfer to get to the Plaza de Armas… (Yes, I have a metro map… on my computer. Not much help when plans change midstream and you have to book it to see a man about a visa.)

Quick side note: Just so we’re clear, I do know better. Everyone told me to buy the cheap phone. Everyone has warned me about the pick-pocketers. But then I got royally lost and wanted to be able to connect if I ever had to (we know I’ve developed a new appreciation for technology now that my life is divided between people 6,000 miles away and a new city of 6 million). So I didn’t break the bank or anything, but I bought the nice-ish one with email and internet capability so I would have access to maps and things to help me get from A to B. And, see, I have to get a pre-paid phone (which makes a nice-ish phone cost even more) as I can’t secure a calling plan here in Chile without a finalized visa or bank account (that too is harder to secure than one might think, especially for a woman… don’t get me started). But, see, the pre-paid phones will devour your minutes whenever you’re not on a wireless network. So, see, I still occasionally call my husband when I got lost.

Okay, back to the transfer. Thanks to Ryan, I sorted out where I needed to go, slipped my phone into my pocket, and boarded a very crowded train car. Ever since witnessing those two friends get robbed on two consecutive days, I’ve been vigilant. So, I actually thought about the phone, thought about moving it to my backpack, but the car was crowded, I was changing lines soon, maybe it was even safer where it was, folded into folds.

Well, clearly, those folds made it impossible for me to feel the sleight-of-hand. Was someone watching while we were still on the platform? (My best guess.) Or was someone just slick enough to test the weight of my pocket and slip in and out in all of two metro stops? Either way, I had trusted the nerve endings of my own person to warn me of such thievery. Is the answer to no longer trust myself? Maybe, maybe not. The answer is probably just to buy the cheapest phone I can find. The answer is that the straightest line between two points can really be a straight line. Occam’s razor holds.

As I hear about more and more of my girlfriends being robbed, I’ve had a feeling I could be next. There’s no way I could eat a meal on two days with two girls who were both robbed and not wait for the other shoe to drop. But you let your guard down for one moment, and they’ve got you. Now as I think more about it, I don’t know one male friend or colleague who has told me a similar story of on-the-street petty crime. I’m sure they’ll tell me now if they have. But I know personally four women who have been robbed in recent months. I’m just saying those are interesting odds that lead me to believe they’re not odds at all, but a realization that despite everything we as women can do, we are still targeted.

In the moment, I couldn’t do much more than shrug, admit I’d been had, pick-pocketed by one of Santiago’s prolific and stealth Artful Dodgers. Nevermind that he/she had photos of a work life on the move throughout this city, the names and numbers of the whole dozen or so people I know here, and a way (until I got home two hours later) to log in directly to my personal email. Though I know that’s not what he/she was after. I know it was just an easy get. A phone. To use or to sell. Nothing more. But it’s still a violation. A stranger on a packed metro car knows infinitely more about me than I ever will of him or her. So I did all I could do… stay calm and exit the metro, armed only with my paper map of the Plaza de Armas and its surrounding streets. Ryan and I came to the plaza a year ago, during that first month I stepped foot in Chile. I was so victorious that day:

But apparently I cannot read maps. Apparently, I almost always walk the wrong way before I walk the right way. I had actually headed in the right direction today; I just didn’t know it yet (so I may as well have been heading the wrong way). I looked up and must have given off an expression with just enough confusion and inclination to give up altogether that, amid the hustle of the plaza, another stranger emerged, I dare to say “magically.” He had soft eyes and an old soul to match his physical age. A cane. A yellow bow tie even! Imagine! A sweater tucked underneath a blazer. I don’t know exactly what he asked me, except that it was said with kindness.

A simple, efficient conversation that I only remember my side of as new Spanish still washes over me like rain. But all the same, this man and his bow tie were a much-needed reminder that we can find kindness and civility where we find violation. Just enough kindness and civility not to give up out loud.