Finally, my new ATM card arrived in the mail today.

I swear, nothing feels more like freedom than inserting that little piece of plastic into a machine anywhere in the world and having it spit out crisp bills in the local currency. Especially when you know what it’s like to live without it.

Two weeks ago, I was robbed blind while naively nibbling strawberries in a sunny Barcelona park. Not only did I lose all my credit cards and driver’s license, the thug made off with 250 freshly withdrawn euros and a decent digital camera with 400 yet-to-be-downloaded vacation photos.

Thinking back to the moment when it must have happened, I realize – just like everyone in Barcelona tells you – that the thieves were professionals. They distracted me with a technique that was pretty much like taking candy from a baby.

My purse was literally right beside me (I know, I know – I should have had it looped through my arm, or at least secured in my lap). I recall the whiff of an illegal substance on the air, followed by a
commotion in a nearby fountain made by a mangy German shepherd being led through the foul water by its equally mangy owner. Followed by the wide-eyed foreigner thinking, “Gross, who would let their dog swim in that fountain?”

Then that same foreigner thinking, “Dios mio – where’s my purse?”

When I called home with my sob story, my dad reminded me that, with all my travels, it was inevitable that it would eventually happen.

Still, it’s a big hit to take when you’re supposed to be having fun, and I couldn’t help but sulk around for a while, marinating on how quickly travel highs can turn into travel lows.

Then back into travel highs.

My Spanish friend, Sonia, had just the remedy – a party that started at 9PM and wouldn’t wind down until nine hours later, in typical Barcelona fashion.

Amazing how Rioja and tapas took the edge right off. Barcelona, needless to say, was forgiven.

- by Terry Ward