mugged...

It had to happen sooner or later. Everyone has one of those stories, particularly from traveling in a foreign country. So here goes mine…
I arrived this evening in Antigua, Guatemala, the famous and beloved colonial capitol, full of ochre and mustard colored buildings, two dozen odd colonial churches, uncountable espresso bars, and the majority of Guatemalan tourists. The cobble stone streets remind me of Guanajuato, Mexico, where I spent my 18th year of life, and alone seem to merit the city’s status as an Unesco World Heritage Site. In short, Antigua appears to be an absolute paradise, beautiful, refined, cosmopolitan, set amidst the world’s largest Mayan populations, against a backdrop of picturesque volcanoes.
I checked into my hostel, The Yellow House, had a lovely chat with the two girls who are sharing my dorm room, and prepared myself to go out to make a phone call. I thought quickly that since it was night time, I would take only what I absolutely needed, a few quetzals (Guatemalan currency), my small notebook (it had the phone number I needed), and the hostel keys. I walked the lovely well lit streets to the downtown, found a small café to make a phone call, marveled at the mermaids in the fountain in the city’s central plaza, and headed back toward the hostel. 8:15 on a Friday night, the city was crawling with open restaurant verandahs, adequate light, disco music, other extranjeros and locals.
I decided to walk back to the hostel one block west of the street I had come in on, glancing down it to be sure it was well lit and populated. It was. However, half a block down the street, a young man who came up beside me. I turned and smiled, thinking he was one of the many young Latin men that come up to chat with foreign girls. I saw the knife he held in his left hand. I stopped, and he stopped, and told me to give him all my money. I forked over the few bills and coins in my pockets. He demanded my cell phone. I just arrived in this city today, have never made a habit of having a cell phone, and certainly don’t have one now! Then, he demanded my watch, tried to grab at my pockets to see what else I had, decided he was happy with the watch and stomped off in the other direction.
Stunned and shaken, I quickly walked in the other direction, making the first turn that I could back to the center and the most populated street I could find. Clearly, my heart was racing, my palms sweating, and I could feel scared tears welling up behind my eyes. I found the street I had walked down originally, and trucked it back to the hostel.
Reflecting back, even a few minutes later, I can only shrug my shoulders. Fortunately for me, I was smart enough not to have gone out with anything more than I needed. I had been carrying my passport and ATM card in a pouch under my pants, which fortunately for me, he didn’t know to look for. I am almost overcome with the luck that I had, to have come away from my first mugging, at knifepoint, short only a few dollars and a cheap digital watch.
Still, I find myself a little indignant. I am here to find out about this country, to learn, to experience. I bear no malice. However, none of this matters to him, as he is trying to make a quick buck. What could I have done differently? Is his situation so dire? Where does he fit in this national economy? What else is at play in the show of power that is wielding a weapon? Would he really have stabbed me? Would all the equality in the world stop people from stealing from each other? More and more to think about…For the time being, I am going to be glad to sit here in the hostel, to reflect, and to be short nothing more than my watch and a few dollars. Though I have glanced at my wrist probably 30 times in the last hour to check the time. Oh well. Chock it up to life experience, be grateful, find a new watch, and remember not to go out with any more than you absolutely must. I sure hope that he wears the watch, and at least gets some good use out of it...