I really don't even know where to begin with this post, but I maybe some of you are wondering why I haven't been around for a little while. Well, I was super busy with school last week, and on Friday night, my life came to a screeching halt...
Nicole and I were mugged while we were walking home from dinner. I met her at her apartment directly after class on Friday afternoon, and we decided to grab some food at a little cafe across the street from her building. We left the restaurant around 21:15 and noticed 2 young guys with a mangy dog hanging out in front of the park next to her apartment. The park was closed, so we had to walk around (it was well-lit the entire way) in order to get to the door. Literally five steps from her front door, they attacked us. I don't really remember exactly what happened, aside from the fact that I know I was clutching my purse under my arm, and I have a pretty sizable bruise on my bicep, so I can only piece together that one of the guys came from directly behind me and hit my upper arm really hard causing it to go limp...therefore, I am assuming it was pretty easy for him to grab my purse and run. I turned around to see that the second guy had his arms wrapped around Nicole, but she was able to wriggle out from his grip and he ran off without her purse. We were both obviously in serious shock, and fortunately, the lady she lives with was home and took us to the police station. We were there for a while, giving statements and looking at mug shots, and we were finally able to leave and go back to her apartment around midnight (don't even get me started on the police station here...).
My life was in that purse. Literally.
- Wallet --- 2 credit cards, 1 debit card, somewhere between 10-15 euros, UGA ID, Visa giftcard, the spare key to my apartment, both sets of my locker keys for school
- Blackberry AKA my sole form of communication to the outside world
- This post doesn't have any pictures because they took my camera --- I had not uploaded anything since last Sunday, so all of the pictures of dishes that I made last week are gone, along with other random pictures that I took as I wandered the streets of Paris.
- My 2nd generation iPod, affectionately known as Eunice --- I loved that thing because all it did was exactly what it was supposed to. Play music. Period.
- My umbrella, sunglasses, Bert's Bees chapstick, pack of blank index cards that I had purchased earlier in the day, HAND SANITIZER!!!
- The KEY to my apartment --- if you recall above, the spare was in my wallet. Why? You ask? Call me naive or whatever you want, but I am by myself here and therefore don't have anyone to give the spare to...although, I jokingly told Mom when I moved in that I should give it to her because it would be easier for her to fly over here and give it to me...little did we know that that would prove to be true. Anyway, my thought process with the key was that I would never go anywhere without my wallet, so why not put the spare in there? Stupid, whatever, I didn't think of people actually stealing my whole freaking purse.
- and last, but certainly not least, the thing I am most devastated about --- MY JOURNAL. That's right. My personal thoughts, feelings, and experiences that I have religiously and meticulously documented everyday since I have been here. My journal had not seen the light of day in weeks, but I took it to class with me earlier on Friday to catch up on some entries, and forgot that it was still in my purse. It upsets me every time I think about it. It was a prefect little navy blue Moleskin journal that my dear friend, Emilia, gave to me before I left because it was the same type of journal that Hemingway and Van Gogh used...AND I had almost completely filled it up, so everytime I opened it, I got excited because the number of blank pages were rapidly decreasing. I couldn't wait to finish it and put it on my bookshelf, so that I could start over again with a new, blank one.
I still can't quite figure out why I was carrying all of that stuff with me that night because I never usually do...in fact, I had forgotten my camera all week at my apartment, so I had been taking pictures with my phone, but I had changed purses Friday afternoon and finally remembered to grab it (@$%&!!!!). The other thought that pours salt on the wound every time I think about it is that nine times out of ten, my camera, keys, and cell phone are in my pockets rather than my purse because those are the things that I use most often...of course, that was not the case on Friday night. I feel forever indebted to my mom, Auntie Pam, and Jonathan because they were able to have my credit cards and phone deactivated within 30 - 45 minutes of my purse being taken, therefore we feel confident that none of my personal information was seriously compromised...hopefully...
I know I am not a saint, but I really try my best to be a good person, and I can say with certainty that I have not stolen candy from a baby, or pushed any little old Parisian ladies into the street, so I can't quite figure out why this happened. It is especially upsetting because up until the attack, I had been absolutely loving every second in this amazing city, and I am angry at those bastards for making me feel otherwise. Also, it is bitterly ironic that my last post was all about how Nicole and I had walked home alone and blah, blah, blah, so I feel like an absolute idiot now that this has happened to me. After replaying the scene in my mind 290238490823489290834 times since that night, however, I really don't think that there is anything else I could have done differently...aside from not being there in the first place. We were not far from her apartment at all, we had not had overindulged in any figurative baby bottles, and we were alert and walking with a purpose. I think it was just the fact of being at the wrong place at the absolute wrong time. They spotted us as we crossed the street, probably heard that we were American, and considered us pretty easy targets.
The best part about this whole mess (insert sarcastic tone here) was that both sets of keys had been taken, and my landlord told me when I moved in that there is absolutely ZERO way of getting in to the apartment without the key unless you break down the huge steel doors ($$$$$$$$$). That made me feel really safe at the time, and prompted me to be VERY diligent about making sure I ALWAYS had my keys (think: post-it notes around the apartment to remind me to always grab my keys), but it also meant that I was homeless until Sunday night when my landlord's brother (who had a key) would be back from a weekend trip to Monaco.
Nicole and the lady she lives with were gracious enough to let me stay at their apartment, which was wonderful, but I pretty much had to rock the same clothes all weekend (with a few of items from Nicole's closet because the temperature decided to drop about 75 degrees from last week, however, she is about 6 inches shorter than me, so I will let you use your imagination on that one). Also, my absolutely incredible mother flew in on Sunday morning to help me pick up the pieces of my life...she is the best!!!!!!!
Reason 92083489023489 I am generally annoyed and pissed off at the situation:
I had the Paris-Versailles race on Sunday (which, as you may recall, I was diligently training for every day). I almost didn't run it because my running gear was under lock and key at my apartment, but Mom convinced me to run it anyway so that those two pieces of trash did not get the best of me. On Saturday, my sugar daddy (AKA Nicole) bought me new running shoes, Adidas leggings, and two dry fit shirts, so I was prepared to run the next day --- she even let me carry around a couple of euros while we were shopping so I didn't feel completely worthless, AND she let me "buy" the Starbucks! It was a ridiculously hard and hilly course (AND FREEZING!!!!), but I am SO glad I ran it because it was beautiful and it gave me 10 miles to burn off some steam. Also, Mom was waiting for me in Versailles, so I was pretty pumped about that.
Reason 92083489023490 I am generally annoyed and pissed off at the situation:
After sitting down and thinking about everything that they got, we realized it really wasn't that much. The Blackberry, Sim card, and credit/debit cards were completely deactivated, Eunice was as old as dirt, and I don't know how the Black Market works, but I would think they would have to pay someone to take her, and once my camera died, I am assuming it have been worthless. At the end of the day, they got 15 euros and some blank index cards. So, thank you, (insert multiple choice words that are not at all appropriate for the blog), for completely turning my mom and I's lives upside down for 15 euros and whatever else you found to be "valuable" from my purse. Thank you for ripping my life out of my arms and tossing it out like garbage so that it can rot in a landfill. Thank you for turning this incredible opportunity that I have been given into a constant state of terror and paranoia. There is a very special place for both of you, and one day, you will get what you deserve.
I truly don't care at all about the money or electronics that they got --- as we have illustrated in the past couple of days, those things are replaceable. I don't even want to begin to count up the amount of money we have spent (and will spend) to replace those things, but nevertheless, they are replaceable. The thing I am most devastated about is my journal and the pictures and memories that I had saved on my camera. I didn't get a chance to tell y'all, but last week was CRAZY in the kitchen at LCB, and I had lots of fun things to share! I will try and remember them. :( I have been unsuccessfully trying to rationalize my lost journal...maybe it's cathartic or something to have all of my feelings written down and then released into the unknown world? Yeah, right. What am I supposed to do when I write my book and the first month is blank?! Fortunately, I do have the blog to remind me of some good times, but still, that journal had everything in it. Also, I know that I can walk down the street and take more pictures, but I liked
those pictures. I specifically remember a couple of times on Friday walking to and from class when I just stopped on the sidewalk to take a picture of the Tower or the leaves because I felt inspired, and I can never get those moments back.
My mom left this morning, and so walking home from class today was really the first time that I have been alone since it happened. The intense waterworks came about halfway through my walk, and I didn't have any sunglasses to hide the ugly cry face, so who knows what I looked like. To add to that, I had bags under my eyes, dirty hair, an over-sized jacked, and a death grip on my bag --- even though all of the important stuff is now in a money belt under my clothes --- so I probably looked like a serious hot mess. Whatever. I don't care. Fashion goes out the window when you get mugged. It is just so frustrating that I should even have to hide everything under my clothes. I shouldn't have to worry every time I walk outside that someone is going to take my stuff or harm me in some way. It makes me sick to think that there are people out there like that.
I know this could happened ANYWHERE, so I am trying to not take it out on my beloved city of Paris, but I can't help it...and the fact that I am not surrounded by any of my comforts of home doesn't help my homesickness at all. I completely stepped out of my comfort zone to come over here in the first place and to try and heal my wounded heart, and now I get this? Haven't we been through enough this past year? Can't we get a reprieve or something?? I feel like my spirit has been completely crushed, and the absolute last thing I want to do is stay here for another second. I am trying to work through that now because I know I can't give up on my goals (by the way, I was accepted into the Intermediate Cuisine and Pastry classes yesterday, so that means I will be coming back in January...I am still trying to process that...I was totally pumped at the prospect of coming back until Friday night), but it is really hard to keep on truckin' here and pretend like everything is okay when it isn't. I guess I'll just add this to the list of things that I need to deal with and accept.
Through all of this complaining, I feel very fortunate that neither Nicole nor I were seriously harmed, and I think I had my guardian angel named David watching over me when it happened. While it was an awful experience to live through, it is strange because I never felt like I was in danger when it happened...I like to think that I have him to thank for that.
As I sit here and try to feel safe in my apartment, I still can't help but feel defeated. I am going to allow myself the rest of the evening to sulk, and then, when I wake up tomorrow morning, I will have a new outlook on this situation (and poach some fish in my 08:30 practical, but I will tell y'all about that another day). I will still have to work out all of the details of this mess (i.e. get a new phone, contact the US Embassy, blah, blah, blah), but I will take it one step at a time and work to try to not let them get the best of me.
I heard somewhere that carbs have some sort of chemical in them that causes a temporary high and gets the endorphins pumping or something...or perhaps it is wishful thinking on my part...anyway, I am currently stocked with 1/2 of a baguette, 2 croissants, a half of load of French bread, and rice and pasta a-plenty. That is actually a lie because I have consumed the baguette since I started writing...anyway, I am going to enjoy my carbs and wine, and get back onto a running schedule tomorrow for my mental health.
Many thanks to y'all for sticking with me through this horrible experience. Now that I am journal-less, y'all will really get all of my inner thoughts and feelings (get excited!!)...until I start a new one, of course.
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à tout à l’heure!
