29 is not so fine

Today was my first weekday with no school. No getting up at 8:30 to get ready in the dark. No Federico interaction. No GIC office.

Brie and I went to Pilates at the gym. Very chill this time. The teacher played a lovely selection of No Doubt and Sting. Afterward we came to the residence got ready and went to conquer Palermo.

Palermo is the hip neighborhood much like the Village of NYC. It’s quieter and full of awesome cafes, restaurants, and stores. All of the good parks are over that way as well. We shopped all afternoon, ate at an awesome restaurant (I had a huge salad with sun dried tomatoes and blue cheese and glee). I bought 2 cool graphic t-shirts (part of my new South American style), 2 pairs of earrings, and some boots. Now I know I already bought nice boots but these were on sale and are beautiful and timeless. I love them. They're like a caramel brown with a small buckle detail. Slight wedge. Perfection.

We hung out in a café for an hour or so reading. Then we headed to the subte. We each had to buy a new pass so we did that. Then we got on the subte, rode 4 stops, and headed out. Then I noticed my purse felt a little light.

And it wasn’t because I had spent all my money.

It was because someone stole my wallet.

Hooray hooray.

I was carrying my cute new purse that goes across the shoulder and latches closed. Someone literally must have opened it, grabbed my wallet, and closed it back.

Mystery is my camera remains. Thank God. Silver lining to my cloud.

(The same thing happened in Spain, but they got my wallet and camera. I’ve been through this.)

So some Argentina dude now has my cute Spain wallet I’ve been using, about 156 pesos (50 dollars-ish), my keys (along with really cute new key chain I bought at the art fair), my debit card, a photocopy of my passport and driver’s license, insurance card, and various receipts. Congratulations thief.

I didn’t freak out. Things like this happen in big cities. In the metro. In Spanish speaking countries. To me.

I called and cancelled my card. I talked to Visa 911 on the phone for about 36 minutes trying to get them to send me a card to Argentina not Monroe. I cried on the phone to my mother and Jan. The usual.

Santa Barbara is helping me out. They’ve supplied cash, wine, and Sex and the City. All I need.

I have some old traveler’s checks I’m going to try to cash tomorrow. It’s all going to be just fine. I’m going to buy a cuter wallet, find the key chain lady at the fair this weekend, and treat myself to a pedicure, cut and highlight whenever my credit card comes.

But something wicked this way has come. I believe I am cursed.

Anyone recall what happened on the 29th of August? Oh yes – attempted mugging of phone and purse. 29th of September (today)? Wallet stolen.

And my birthday? 29th of March.

29 is my unlucky number. 29th of March 2007? Hospital in Spain.

I can’t imagine what will happen on my 29th birthday. Or how the year 2029 will be.

What have I done? Some weird voodoo is going on. And it ain’t cool.