I was just telling my friend Jackie that I've never not felt safe in Peru. Whether on the street, in a taxi, in a crowded swap meet, or in the park at midnight, I've always felt pretty secure in my surroundings. There are things that you do to protect yourself, like hold onto your purse when you're walking and don't look around like you're a tourist, and lock your door and put your purse on the floor when you're in a car. Basically you just act like you know what you're doing and try not to be obvious.
We walked to the new mall about half a mile away, Jackie with a shoulder bag and me with a small, handmade, artisan bag slung across my shoulder and underneath my sweatshirt. We first went into Tottus, the Peruvian Walmart, and then walked into the department store, Saga Falabella. We were happy about our first work experience earlier in the afternoon, and were looking for some new clothes to wear to our new jobs next week. We looked through piles of sweaters, holding them up for inspection regarding style and color, laughing and of course, speaking English. We ended up searching for clothes on the entire first floor, and with arms full, finally went into a dressing room to try things on. Only leaving our dressing rooms to stand in front of them for a quick "how does this look?", our bags really never left our sight. Which made for a huge and unwelcome surprise when I opened my little bag to see if I had enough money for the sweater I liked and found my wallet to be missing. My Blackberry and apartment keys were in there, but my wallet was gone. Jackie said that maybe I left it at home, but I knew I had it, and I knew I had snapped the bag shut. When could my wallet have been stolen? How? I was incredulous! I wanted to report it stolen, and Jackie said that we weren't going to let the theft completely ruin our day. She was going to buy a few things, including my sweater, and I would pay her her back.
At the cash register, I was just about to ask for a manager to report my stolen wallet, when Jackie opened her bag to get out her wallet. When I discovered my wallet stolen, it didn't occur to us to check her purse, because hers has a zipper. But as soon as she said "my wallet is gone!", my heart sank. I told her to check all her pockets, which she did, and it was true. Both of us had been the victims of a pickpocket. A very good, professional pickpocket, who could unzip her bag and steal her scarf and the wallet underneath, and unsnap my little bag, stealing my wallet and leaving my phone.
The managers and loss prevention staff were very courteous and helpful. They took us to their offices, took our reports, and helped Jackie contact her credit card companies. I was fortunate that I only had about $19. and an expired driver's license in my wallet. They told us they were looking at surveillance video, and would call us if they found anything. I thanked them for their offer of some money for a taxi, and we walked back to my place, in the dark, just after being pickpocketed yet feeling safe enough to walk, all the while asking each other how we could let ourselves become crime victims. The only thing we could come up with was that we felt safe in the store, which was just like a Macy's, and must have called attention to ourselves and let our guard down just enough to attract the thief.
I've had my wallet stolen in the U.S., and my purse, and even our car, but this incident feels different because we were targeted specifically for our looks and our language. I guess I've just joined the ranks of the countless foreigners around the world who have been taken advantage of for being foreign.
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