calamity in calama; police in arica; retreat to tacna and arequipa

ca·lam·i·ty

kəˈlamitē/

noun

1. an event causing great and often sudden damage or distress; a disaster.

   
   

   
   

   
   

   
   

   I got robbed! Yeah, that was pretty much my worst fear about this trip. I´m already a careful person with my stuff, even in Canada. One time at work one of my Venezuelan students saw me clutching my purse at a Halloween party and he said I reminded him of the girls in his country.

   
   

   Another time my friend said I reminded him of a traumatized war vet he knew - someone who couldn´t forget his past experiences -  when I kept my clutch in my lap, not on the table. And that was in Coal Harbour in Vancouver!

   
   

   The whole set of days in Chile were like dominoes of little accidents. In San Pedro I bought a ticket to Arica in Northern Chile. Going to Arica directly isn´t possible - you need to transfer in Calama first, which involves 2 bus tickets. When I got to the station I realized that I hadn´t purchased the ticket for the short ride to Calama, but luckily a friend helped me sort that out.

   
   

   Upon arriving in Calama at night, I saw the bus station writhing with people in the dark. The indoor section of the station was closed and there were no lights outside, just a dark mass of people and their bags in the dark. Dozens of buses came and went, but nearly all of them were for Tur Bus, and not my company Pullman. I waited for a few hours and I didn´t see my bus arrive, but I wasn´t too worried at that point as my previous bus had been an hour late.

   
   

   Finally the lights of the station came on, bringing light to the substantially reduced amount of passengers left. By midnight it was just me and the stay dogs begging for food at the station. One scruffy white dog curled up against me & kept me warm. 

   
   

   Despite previously asking a few people about my bus, nobody seemed to know anything. I ended up taking a taxi to a nearby hotel and returning to the station the next morning. They told me my bus had come, but what I didn´t know was that the company has two names :( Apparently Pullman Bus and Atacama are the same company.

   
   

   I changed my ticket after waiting for an hour at the station. This meant I had to wait for the next bus at 10:50pm. 

   
   

   I killed a lot of time, but it wasn´t violent at all. I´m glad I uploaded the last of my photos!

   
   

   Now for how I got robbed. I was sitting inside the station on a bench by myself, my 40L backpack to my left, and my 15L backpack to my right - both were right up against my legs. At about 10pm I heard money being thrown near me, but I didn´t touch it as I remembered reading about this kind of thing happening & it could be a scam. I also knew that the station at Calama was notorious for theft.

   
   

   A man came around 10 seconds later and asked if the coins were mine, then proceeded to pick up each coin slowly. In that moment I turned my head slightly, and I mean slightly. Of course, that was the moment when the second thief snatched my 15L pack. 

   
   

   I didn´t see the second thief, but I realized my bag was gone in the same moment, but it was too late. I put on my 40L bag & jumped up, asking people if they´d seen my bright orange backpack. Everyone, including the security guard, had a look of indifference and had nothing to say. Everyone, except for one Brazilian man who told me he saw a man beside me with a large bag which my backpack was likely put into. The Brazilian man and I ran outside and he went further in the direction that he saw them get into a car. It was too late, and I knew right away that my bag was lost. 

   
   

   I lost almost everything of value except for my Canadian passport and one debit card. Gone: my British passport, 2 cameras, 1 ancient iphone ready for the basura, 1 cheap but new tablet, CAN/US/PER money, my journal, 2 credit cards, 1 debit card, all my notes of new Spanish words & songs I´d discovered, a little souvenir from La Paz for my mom, a few souvenirs given to me, my guide book, all my toiletries & medicine, cosmetics, snacks, and a bra LOL.

   
   

   I´m really thankful to the Brazilian man for being the only person to care about my situation at the time. He helped me find security guards and the police to briefly report my robbery. He stayed with me until he had to take his bus to San Pedro de Atacama & he made sure a station guard stayed with me until I caught my bus to Arica at 10:50pm since he said I was in no condition to be alone, I wouldn´t trust anyone. I think he must have been a father imagining if the same situation had happened to his daughter.

   
   

   Anyway, I felt shitty for about 12 hours after, but later realized I´m actually really lucky in the end.

   
   

   1) I still have one passport and a debit card - both of which are absolutely essential.

   
   

   2) I wasn´t hurt. Less of a cool story to tell, but still...

   
   

   3) I´m able to stay here, I don´t need to return to Canada.

   
   

   4) I´m able to do this trip at all, in the first place!

   
   

   5) Stuff is just stuff. It´s so easy to get attached to things, and I´m definitely guilty of that. It can be refreshing to let go.

   
   

   6) Sharing my story has been a great way to bond with a variety of people during the rest of my travels. I´ve heard plenty of other similar or worse stories. Yes, sometimes it´s all about street smarts, but other times it just boils down to luck and circumstance.

   
   

   Be careful what you say. Other hostellers were revelling over how little stuff I had brought with me, I remember telling them I wished I had been able to manage with just my 40L backpack. Ok, so that came true!

   
   

   I took my night bus to Arica and went straight to the police station. It was early on a Sunday morning so not much was happening. It took me 2 hours of talking with various Chilean Carabineros and repeated accounts of my story to end up with a police report. That´s me getting my Spanish practice! Even more so since Chileans are famous for speaking quickly.

   
   

   The next things in line were getting a hostal and internet access so as to block my cards. It wasn´t fun waiting so long to call my bank, but everything was closed. I ended up walking by a surfer´s hostal with a friendly owner. Cards blocked, and both credit cards were attempted to be used to access my funds, unsuccessfully. I´m glad my PIN isn´t 1234!

   
   

   In Arica I tried to buy my life back in the local market. I still had all my clothes and shoes.

   
   

   The next day I took a bus to Tacna to cross the border back into Peru. Nothing wrong with Chile - it was just my circumstance, but for me nearly my whole time there I felt like I was running, trying to get out, but I kept experiencing delay upon delay.

   
   

   Once in Tacna, I booked a bus to Arequipa, Peru which left 5 minutes after my arrival in Tacna.

   
   

   It felt weird to be back in Peru in that Chilean currency is huge, and a lunch or snack costs thousands of pesos, while in Peru the same costs 7-20 soles.

   
   

   I needed a few nights in Arequipa to recover & re-plan.