No lo creo.

In my first entry of "España de nuevo," I mentioned how the getting here hasn't been easy. The winding route to be here in this silla* in a cafe in Alicante today has been full of literal and figurative pit stops, pot holes, and even a fender bender. 


I failed to mention- as to not freak out the friends and fam- one of the things that pushed me back a bit was last weekend. I got robbed. Some hombres pick-pursed my wallet. And I know it was guys because the discoteca was a sausage-fest. Thought for a moment I was in a gay bar, until I got hit on for being rubia. I was an obvious extranjera. I stuck out like a a sticky-upy on a good hair day. So of course I was an easy target...gullible to the lurking ladrones that lodge their manos sucias in pockets. It's their weekend gig. Their beer money. They are good. Like an anesthesiologist, in and out of the room without your knowing or feeling a thing. Until after. When you realize what just happened. And the pain kicks in.


But don't worry. I called my credit card companies as soon as it happened and canceled my plastic. Thankfully I have a good friend here that is letting me borrow money sin me da verguenza because I have no way of taking cash out  of the ATMS.


Now just wait.
I get a call last night. A week and two days later. They found my wallet!


There is hope in this world.
Everything still there. Minus 15 something euro and some sweat.


Lesson learned. Never carrying more than 10 euros in cash out. Ever. Again. 


*All the underlined words are spanish. Feel free to look up in Google Translate if you want to learn a thing or two. :)