The Thief

I woke up yesterday with a nagging feeling of fear. Maybe it was just because my host mom was freaking out that I had only budgeted 30 minutes of travel time to get to the city. “Yes, mom, I know that there’s going to be traffic, but you really don’t need to repeat this 50 times,” I was thinking. Yes, even host moms know how to nag.

As I sat on the bus – sure enough, gridlocked in traffic because of a massive number of crisply-uniformed schoolkids headed to their second day of classes – that nagging feeling just continued. What if something horrible happened today, like I arrive late, can’t meet up with my group and miss the tour of the National Assembly? Or what if I do bad on that grammar test we’re having in language classes today?

I shuddered. And then I prayed that God would give me patience and peace no matter the circumstances today.

Things were going great. The tour at the National Assembly was informative and interesting. I never missed my group. And we had plenty of time between the tour and language classes, so four of us stopped at a quaint little café for some of the best coffee I’ve had yet.

Forty-five minutes later, as I reached below the table for my backpack to pay, I was shocked to find nothing. In a moment of horror, I thought I’d left the backpack in the park we just visited. In that case, it was lost forever! Nobody here just returns lost items, especially in the city. But my friend Dana reminded me that I’d brought it in and put it next to my feet.

Suddenly, all those prophecies that people here keep telling me endlessly, came true. We’d been sitting at the table the whole time, watching everything, and I’d seen NOTHING. But I’d just been robbed by one of the most stealth criminals ever.

I switched into action. Fortunately, I’d decided the day before that I only wanted to carry around things I wouldn’t be devastated to lose – that means no camera, no computer, no passport. All I’d lost was everything I needed for classes -- workbooks, notebook, the most wonderful Spanish dictionary in the world, my flash drive – my house key, and my wallet.

International phone calls are a pain here. But as soon as we swept out of the restaurant, my friend Andres, who is Costa Rican, taught me how to use a phone card and I called my [real] mom for the first time since I’ve been here. She lives for moments like these – she didn’t even flinch and had all my credit card information in seconds. I guess that’s what it means to be a mom.

Cancelling my ATM, debit card and checking account wasn’t too hard. But by the time I got that done, I had used up all those pricey phone card minutes.

We booked it to an internet café and Dana added money to my Skype account. When I finally got in touch with the credit card company, the operator asked if she could verify a few charges on the card. Sure enough, within an hour of swindling my backpack, the thief had made a $30 purchase at a gas station. Then he went on a shopping spree.

At an ATM machine, he tried unsuccessfully to withdraw $200 in cash from my account. Two minutes later, he went to a sportswear store and tried to charge $400 on my card. He’s going to have to wear last year’s gym shorts, since that charge was blocked too.

Andres’ dad is a high ranking officer in OIJ, the Costa Rican version of the FBI, so he knew exactly where to go. We filed a report with them. Today, I have to talk with an investigator and they’re going to see what they can do about catching this first-rate bandit. I missed my grammar test in the process, but I think this will probably be the most practical use of my Spanish yet.

It was too late to get to class, so Dana, Andres and I went to a museum instead and had a grand old time looking at pre-Colombian art and learning some very useful slang from Andres. I was glad to have such wonderful, generous, helpful people by my side to take care of me when I had absolutely nothing.

Losing so much was both inconvenient and sad. But as I rode the bus home, with nothing more than the clothes on my back and 50 borrowed cents, I thought of Jesus’ words: store up your treasures in heaven, where moth and rust cannot destroy, where thieves cannot break in and steal.

Even when I’m on my guard and think I’m invincible to criminals, it’s just not true. What I have on earth is so easily snatched away. In a moment, I can have an unlimited credit line and in the next, some thief can have my identity and $400 in running shoes at my expense.

I’m learning to hold fleeting earthly possessions with a very loose hand. I’ll never be safe here. My investments need to be in those intangible things of the heart, things that no sticky-fingered San Jose bandit can take from me…