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Published: February 26th 2007
I dive under the surface, feeling the cool water flow across my closed eyes. The beach is crowded, as Mancora often is, but I have found a quiter place where I have space to relax in the waves. I keep track of my bags, as I´ve left them alone on the sand, away from the crowds and opportunistic eyes. There are a few people about so I don´t think it strange to see two young men approaching.
We introduce ourselves and struggle through a Spanish conversation. I´m still mindful of my bags on the sand and keep an eye on them between the pounding of the waves. The two guys, around 18 years old and I agree to meet later for a drink. We say goodbye and they jog off down the beach. I wade about for a few minutes before I stop and look down the beach. The boys are nowhere to be seen. They were moving quickly.
I get out of the water and look to my bags. I can still see my towel and rucksack that holds my camera. But I can´t see my backpack. My heart lurches and begins to race. I run to my bags and my world folds in on itself. The bag is gone. The sky is spinning, noises suddenly become distant, I gasp for air. The bag had everything: passport, money, iPod (my music!), reading glasses, swiss army knife, books, journals...I feel sick. I run from person to person, ranting about losing everything. Of course, nobody saw a thing. My travelling essentials have vanished in to the back neighbourhoods of Mancora.
I spend the day filing police reports. They live up to their pitiful reputation, with their only source of assisstance coming in advising me to find the two boys and ´drag them in here.´ Really helpful. I walk the streets in a daze, cursing my stupidity and trying to calm the rage that boils within. I look up at a billboard on the side of the road, blazened with a tanned couple smiling for the camera, surrounded by blue water and a blazing sun.
¨Welcome to Mancora,¨the sign proudly reads.
¨Thanks,¨I laugh wryly, and forge on, running through the back streets with a blind hope of actually recovering something from this experience.
This is most certainly a lesson learnt. I was scammed, sure, but I was stupid. ´Don´t trust anyone´is unfortunately one of the first laws of travel and I naively did just that. Now, the only course of action is to move on, away from this terrible day and in to the next part of the journey, where hopefully I will travel with greater awareness and reality.
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Dean
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Two Hands
Haven't you seen Two Hands with Heath Ledger? It teaches us an important lesson, never leave your valuables on the beach. That's bad luck mate. I hope you have got it all sorted by now. Love the site - great pictures and captions. Glad to see you haven't lost your sense of humour as well! Take care and I look forward to reading on with interest.