Oct 3 - 4: Teplyn Gets Mugged

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Friday Oct 3

Had to get up in the morning for my return visit to the hospital to check my TB shot and get the paperwork signed by the doctor, which took all of 5 minutes thankfully.

Later in the day, met up with Shoshana again and briefly went to her apartment in Kolonaki - a MUCH nicer neighborhood than my own, and a much larger kitchen…lucky! After getting ready, we walked to the Hard Rock Café in Syntagma Square to watch their broadcast of the American Vice Presidential Debates. Unfortunately, it cost 10 euro to get in. Neither of us willing to pay for something we could download for free, we decided to return to Plaka and poke around the shops more.

Realizing that we had pretty much covered all of Plaka the night before, we called it a night and began to head home. When we reached Syntagma Square, we split ways, Shosh walking towards Kolonaki and me towards Pangrati. I guess at the time, neither of us really thought anything of walking back on our own, having done it multiple times before and it only being 10:30 at night.

As I walked down the street, I couldn’t help but notice the lack of traffic on the normally bustling road. I walked by the entrance to the Temple of Olympian Zeus and noticed a couple of guys loitering. This is when I realized my mistake. Hoping I could make it home without incident, I quickened my pace. Sadly though, I had apparently made myself an obvious target. I could sense three men approaching behind me. Panicking, I tried to walk into the street hoping cars would begin to pass and deter the men. No cars were coming in either direction. There was not a single other sole in sight on the street. I simply braced myself for the inevitable.

One man ran by, grabbing my bag with so much force the strap ripped. After he passed, another ran by and shoved my right shoulder. As I fell to the ground, I hit the back of my head off the pavement. I quickly took the fetal position, expecting further assault from the men. When I looked up, I saw all three running down the street, my purse in hand. I ran to a restaurant a little ways down the street; one I wish I had made it to just 30 seconds sooner.

Crying and obviously out of sorts, the owner ran over. When I told him what had happened, he dashed out into the street and must have eventually called the police. In the mean time, three women sat me down and attempted to comfort me. One tended to my bleeding head with the restaurant’s emergency kit, while the other two tried to figure out what to do with me. Between their broken English and what little Greek I could muster, I told them where I lived, that I was a student, and did not know the phone numbers to anyone in the city - my phone being in my stolen bag. One let me use her phone to call my mom, who was apparently able to get in touch with CYA in Boston who then called the staff member on duty in Athens for the weekend.

I had no idea, however, that anyone in Greece had been informed of my debacle until I had reached the police station. After the police arrived at the restaurant and got my initial description of the men, which wasn’t much, a car of uniformed officers drove off in pursuit. Two plain-clothed officers told me that I had to go with them to the police station in Syntagma. As I got into their unmarked car, I couldn’t help but suddenly panic. I immediately asked to be let out, saying I had forgotten something in the restaurant. After I got out, I demanded to see a badge or some sort of proof that the two men were, in fact, police officers - my trust was rather lacking by this point of the night. Chuckling, they showed me their badges and their guns - the second may or may not have been a good sign - and I agreed to get back in the car.

When we arrived at the police station, I was brought to the office of a younger woman who is apparently in charge of making the official reports. I was sat on a small couch in her office, where I gave my statement. During this, the phone rang and the woman handed it to me with a rather angry look. My mom had somehow gotten the number for the station and had demanded to talk to me - quite impressive considering how few people spoke English there. My mom told me that CYA was sending the woman on duty for the weekend to the police station to pick me up and that she would be there within 30-40 minutes. Deep breath out.

Yes, I was still bawling like a baby at this point from complete doubt that I would have any way to get back into my apartment that night. I knew my room mates were at the Hard Rock watching the debates but had no idea if they had plans for afterwards. Of course I didn’t know any of their phone numbers. My grandmother’s solution - I had called her when my mom hadn’t answered her phone initially - “well honey, it sounds like you’re just going to have to go back to your apartment and sit on the stoop until your room mates come home.” That was a comforting idea to someone who had just been mugged alone...

Anyways, Georgia - the woman on duty - finally arrived at the station around 12:40am. Thinking I should probably go to the hospital to get my head checked out, we WALKED to Evangelismos Hospital about 10 minutes away. She assured me this was the quickest way to get there and at this point in the evening I was actually relived to get some fresh air - me being the only non-smoker of the 5 or 6 people in the office at the station. On our walk, she warned me that I may see some gruesome things in the ER, it being late on a Friday night. Oh great…

The hospital was a complete madhouse of people rushing through hallways, gurneys - some carrying live patients, others I’m not so sure were still alive - lined the small room, and priests walked to and fro - delivering last rites I’m assuming? When we were told it would be at least three hours before I could be seen by a doctor, I simply looked at Georgia with a “there is no way in Hell I am staying here for that long look” and I think she returned the sentiment. My head had stopped bleeding and my eyes could dilate so I figured I didn’t need stitches and didn’t have a concussion, so there really wasn’t much a doctor could do for me at this point anyways.

Thankfully, Georgia hailed a cab for the ride back to my apartment. She also had a cell phone with every student’s number in it so I was able to get in touch with my room mates who were home and more than happy to let me in.

I don’t think I have ever been more grateful to be back home in my entire life. I collapsed into much needed hugs from Leslie and Kylene, devoured a couple bowls of cereal, took a hefty sleeping pill and tried to zonk out for what remained of the night - it now being about 2:00am. Not surprisingly, I really wasn’t able to sleep very well despite the pill but it just felt good to be in my own bed.

Although I’m pissed that my bag was stolen, I consider myself very lucky. I was only carrying 20 Euros on me. My mom was able to quickly put a stop on all my cards and I already had one new debit card in the mail which should (hopefully) arrive sometime this week. What scares me the most though are the thoughts of what could have happened with three men attacking one girl.

I have to say how amazing everyone has been in helping me. From the people in the restaurant, to the police - although the woman taking the report did yell at me for laying down on her couch, screaming “auto den einai ena nosokomeio” “THIS ISN’T A HOSPITAL” - my room mates, and especially the people at CYA.

Saturday, Oct 4

I woke up feeling like a train wreck, understandably. My whole body ached, especially my head. I have a couple scrapes here and there, a rather sizable bruise on my right hip, and what feels like another scrape on the back of my head.

The president of CYA actually called one of my room mates to talk with me. He apologized profusely for what happened and promised he would do anything he could to help me out. By 3pm that afternoon, I had new keys to the Academic Center and the front door of my apartment - not yet my actual apartment - and a temporary cell phone.

After calling my mom and getting my cards and accounts settled, I went back to my apartment to make dinner. I got through two episodes of Sex and the City, by around 7pm, and was ready to go to bed, as sad as it sounds. Taking a couple Advil night pills, I poured myself into bed, and watched half an episode of Gossip Girl. I fell asleep by 8pm and didn’t wake up until 8:30am Sunday morning, feeling much much better.

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