Andrushka

Earlier this afternoon I was thinking about all the wonderful things about Barcelona I would blog about. Unfortunately for you and me, that blog post has been preempted. I’m just not in the mood anymore.

Today as I was walking from the Monastery of St. Paul of Camp to the Maritime Museum, a young man in his early twenties tapped me on the shoulder and, through a series of charades, informed me I had something on my back. I wiped my hand across my back and sure enough, something orange had splattered on me. It had gotten on my light-colored pants as well. It was kind of disgusting.

He searched through his backpack and offered me some Kleenexes, even helping wipe my back. It was on my camera bag as well, so I took it and my camera off and started wiping the strap. He mentioned something about water to help clean and as I looked up to see him off, he was already gone. When I turned around, so was my camera.

My very expensive Nikon D90 and also rather expensive Tamron 24-300mm lens was stolen.

I looked around for him and couldn’t find him, of course. I then looked for a police officer, and when I finally found one, he told me to report it at a station. When I got to the station, they directed me to another station. Finally at the right station, they had me take a number and wait for two and half hours before I could fill out a report. I’m not sure why I bothered, since I’m sure they’ll never find it and I don’t I have any insurance that will help in this situation. Anyway, in the very unlikely event that they find my missing camera, they know how to contact me.

The officer at the front desk told me I was the second person to report a “let me help you clean off your back” theft today.

I keep thinking of all the things I should have done differently. I should have just come back to the hotel to clean up. I should have never taken off my camera. I should have taken a different route … ad infinitum. As the British lady sitting next to me said, “at least we weren’t hurt. We can be thankful for the big things.” She came to Barcelona for a Leonard Cohen concert and had her purse stolen by two men on a a motorcycle. That’s a new sort of drive by to me.

I don’t know if I’m more upset about how expensive the camera is, or about the photos. I hadn’t downloaded the pictures from Versailles or the Eiffel Tower yet. There’s some on the card of Vianui and Tehani looking incredibly cute. If you're a camera thief and not a complete douchebag, at least leave the memory card. But I guess it kind of goes without saying that he was, indeed, a complete douchebag. I have the orange crud still on my shirt and pants to prove it.

Also, as I’ve been traveling alone, my camera has kind of been my raison d’etre. It’s my artistic expression, dialogue with friends, even my way of keeping time (since I didn’t bring a watch). Today I’d walked all over the place trying to find a USB cable to replace the one I'd left in Paris, and I finally bought one for way more than I would ever have paid for it at home, just because I wanted to share those pictures so badly. Fat lot of good it will do me now.

Waiting at the police station this evening, a muted TV played Gilmore Girls, and as I watched Rory and Paris at Yale, I couldn’t help but wish I could feel more carefree, as I did earlier when I contemplated how to describe my lunch to you all.

I just keep telling myself Most people are nice most of the time and hoping that in the morning I’ll have a new perspective on things.

P.S. If anyone with piles of cash laying around was wondering what to get me for Christmas, a Nikon D5000 or Canon T1i would do the trick.

Posted by Scott on 21 September 2009 at 9/21/2009 02:46:00 PM | Permalink