Purses and porn - insights

Since losing my purse from my bag a few weeks ago, I have begun behaving oddly.  First of all, I tend to walk about with my handbag pressed tightly against my chest.  Secondly, I now put my purse in a zipped pocket deep inside the handbag for safe keeping.  This means that I regularly look for my purse in the bag to find it missing and have momments of panic frequently until I remember that it in the hidden pocket.  So my added precaution has contributed to the general fear and panic.  Anxiety, has a power of its own and makes us behave in odd ways.  The passport becomes the centre of our thoughts when travelling abroad and at airports we all exhibit unusual behaviour.  Does this seem familiar?

Amusing to watch but worrying to experience.  Hindsight is 20/20 vision they say.  You can look back on things with amusement even when they were horrid at the time.  However, reflection can be challenging as well as informative.  I made a posting some weeks ago about how so many of my page views were from people in Russia and the Ukraine.  A little bit of reflection on this and some research showed that in fact the referrring sites were mostly from porn sites situated in these countries.  They use viewing as a sort of fishing exbitition to find more interested people.  I had googled 'lots of page views on blog from Russia?' and there were descriptions of how this whole seedy business works.  I checked my stats from the blog and guess what - the page views were from oddly named sites indeed.  Darn, no interested followers from the eastern block, just fishing porno sites seeking to recruit.  Sigh! Purses and porn - seems to be the theme of this month.  Hopefully, I shall find a better focus next time.

Purse taken today - pickpockets strike!

The day started okay.  Much like any normal day, no better no worse.  I always enjoy waking.  It is not that I am an early bird or especially chirpy in the morning it’s just the thought of breakfast ever cheers.  Our printer is out of ink so my main task for today was to go to the ink cartridge refill place on Malta and get a multitude of empty cartridges filled.  Thus ensuring that at those critical moments when you need to print out a boarding pass, receipt, report etc. the printer actually works.  For once, I wanted to be organised and get a back up supply like normal people.  So that when the ink runs down you just pull open a drawer and grab a replacement.  

The walk is not a pleasant one from Sliema to San Gwan.  All traffic fumes and uneven paths, road works and building dust.  I reached the printers office and got the refills though it took longer than I expected and it meant there was not enough time to walk home to meet my appointment back in Sliema.  Checking with the staff there the closest bus stop was at the main hospital, the Mater Dei, so I walked briskly there.  At the bus stop I used my phone to call and explain my lateness.  

As I spoke there was a surge of people around moving towards the oncoming buses.  I felt a bump on the side and straightened up closing the phone.  Reaching in to my bag I searched for my purse to buy a ticket and found the bag empty.  My purse was missing!  I had those moments of disbelief, followed by a sinking realisation that not only had I lost by bank cards, my drivers licence, my Maltese ID card, all my money and even my Canadian birth certificate.  Then, that bump as the crowd surged around me lodged in my head as the moment I had been pick-pocketed.  You feel a fool, a chump, an easy target.  

You also look around at the people surrounding you with new eyes.  Instead of bonhomie you scan the faces searching for the villain.  Helplessness kicked in when I realised that I could not even afford the 1.50 euro bus fare.  I did not have a penny/cent.  Deciding to report the theft  to the local police station in San Gwan I did some more walking.  All the time, wondering if the thieves were ordering things online with my card?  Were they having a meal on my money?  Laughing at their success as they went shopping for luxuries on Amazon, booking hotels, trips etc. 

Reporting the event in the police station was not a rewarding experience.  Everything is done on computer and it was worrisome that the policewoman was a slow keyboard operator, asking advice from colleagues, getting me to repeat details.  The form to be filled in was endless and suddenly I wanted to be home cancelling my cards not here watching two fingers laboriously type.  Eventually, they gave me a number on a torn out piece of paper.  I presume if you are a tourist on holiday your insurance expects such numbers.  I have to confess I was hoping for an alert officer a bit like Inspector Morse who would be instantly on the case.  Perhaps, checking out CCTV footage at the hospital, sending an undercover officer to study the incident scene.  I know, I know it wasn’t realistic but one hopes. 

When you have been the victim of a crime you feel forlorn, abused and the police you hope are on your side.  The reality the world over is that they are going through the motions.  It is their job to record, put things on paper and file.  They know the pointlessness of it all but it is their job.  I asked at the close of our meeting if I could get a lift home to Sliema.  No, they couldn’t but they could order a taxi for me.  I pointed out that the past hour had been all about the fact that my purse had been taken and that I couldn’t afford bus fare never mind a taxi.  To be sure I had walked all the way from Sliema to San Gwan but losing my purse had drained me of all energy.  To contemplate the long dusty walk back, recalling the event, feeling useless and stupid seemed intolerable.  But walk it, I did and each step I felt peculiar, as if I really just wanted to burst into tears.  Strange emotions running wild, surfing on an anxiety about the bank cards.  

When things go bad, you suddenly know that other bad things can happen too.  Anything is possible.  All sorts of things that would never have jumped into your head are now there.  The very same people I passed on the way up now appeared much more ominous and threatening going down.  Instead of just looking sullen they looked dangerous.  I was glad to get home and get online and cancel cards.  Relieved to find no one had ordered widescreen TVs or run up debts.  Just happy to know the limit of my losses.  It feels strange.  I have absolutely no energy.  If I were an apple it’s like someone took the core out of me.  Ah well, silly to make a fuss of it.  One lives and one learns.  I had grown too relaxed in my habits.  People are usually so honest on islands, it sometimes needs a shock like this to wake you up to the real world.  This article caught my eye in the local press.

Elite pickpockets target bus commuters!  It appears these things happen more frequently that I thought.  One victim lost £500 from illicit use of her card.  When I phoned through to my bank to block my card it was the boredom and slowness of the operator that distressed me.  Of course they are just doing their job but it seems crime is so common we have all become rather blasé about the whole business.  Victims want something back.  A listening ear, even pretended concern would help, a bit of courteousness or sensitivity would go a long way.  One feels stupid enough already without dismissive boredom.  If solving crime, capturing the villain, is so tricky perhaps we could train our police to be a source of comfort and reassurance to the victims of crime, as a basic minimum?

Years ago I visited a dear couple on Rhodes who lived in a farm in a lovely valley.  As we sat under their fruit trees I complained that I never got birthday cards.  My husband pointed out rightly that I never remembered to send them so why should others bother?  Since my birthday had passed I was surprised when our hostess disappeared and then came back and presented me with a bag of her jewellery as a gift.  I was shocked and reluctant to take it but she insisted it was only cheap jewellery and she would be happy for me to have it.  It looked lovely and the colours attractive, with rings, necklaces and bracelets of all kinds.  It was so typical of these lovely pensioners to be so giving.  Imagine my horror to learn the next week that they had been robbed and they had lost so much including even clothes from their wardrobes and most of their valuables.  But on talking to them subsequently, I learned that they had been robbed the day before we called.  They just didn’t want to ruin our visit by mentioning it.  The reason her bag contained only cheap jewellery was because the thieves had taken her best.  To be kind and generous at such a time of stress and loss takes real nobility. 

So I will shut up about my day and leave you all in peace.  Life teaches us many lessons and there are times when you just have to suck it in and respond with whatever goodness you have left in the tin.