“There’s no disaster that can’t become a blessing, and no blessing that can’t become a disaster.”
–Richard Bach
Three days ago, my friend Mike Sowden, a fabulous writer and fellow travel blogger, sat in a Starbucks in Dusseldorf, spending a few hours over coffee and his laptop before flying back to the UK.
So engrossed was he in his afternoon writing session that Mike didn’t notice someone slide out his backpack—containing his money, airline tickets and that all important passport—from beneath his table and then out the door.
When I read Mike’s Facebook status that day, updating us on his misfortune, I commented that my heart had just sunk for him. But what I really wanted to say, and what no one should ever say in such a circumstance is—my heart is breaking because I’ve been there.
I’ve so been there.
One Friday two months ago, just a week after returning to London, I left my laptop sitting on a bench in a bus stop by my house. I might as well have stood in Piccadilly Circus and asked, “Anyone fancy a free laptop?”
When I raced back to the stop half an hour later, my heart beating so loudly in my throat that it hurt, the only thing there to greet me was the long, hard, cold red plastic bench.
Not that I could have cared any less about the physical entity that is a laptop. But what I could have cared less about were the 8,000 pictures and who knows how many videos from India sitting on its harddrive.
All. Gone.
And then, because I seem to have a special knack for self-inflicted loss, there was the time I put a small purse holding my wallet, passport and flat keys under my pillow on a weekend trip to Belfast. We were staying in an 18-bed hostel dorm without lockers and I’d wanted to be safe.
It would’ve been a good plan, had I actually remembered to take the purse with me the next day.
By the time we got back from our daytrip to the Giant’s Causeway, the purse was gone. And thanks to a tiny slip of paper in my wallet, on which I’d written the pin numbers to my new UK bank accounts (conveniently marked checking and savings), every pound to my name was also gone.
Now you know why all I could say two months ago at the bus stop was, déjà vu.
When these things happen, no one tells you you’re an idiot. No one yells, “What were you thinking?” and berates you for your tragic lapse in judgment.
What they tell you is how sorry they are. How everything happens for a reason. How a friend of their cousin’s brother-in-law twice removed in New York once had his laptop stolen, only for an Apple salesman in Colombia (South America, that is) to call him up a month later and ship his harddrive back.
And when no one else is saying you’re an idiot, that job gets left up to you. When you’re walking down the street. When you’re trying to fall asleep at night. When you momentarily forget during a Friends re-run, only for it to come crashing back into your mind like a breaker in a hurricane…
“You’re an idiot. You are an idiot.”
In both cases, I’ve been in the middle of a Major Life Change (also known as an MLC).
Not long before that weekend in Belfast, I’d decided not to renew my job contract, go traveling with some new Kiwi friends (and thereby give up my work visa, which carried the stipulation that I stay in the UK throughout its full duration), live off savings for my last six weeks in London, and, to top it all off, move to New Zealand.
And only days before that Friday in London, I’d decided not to apply for a two-year post-study UK work visa, politely decline a job offer that would’ve allowed me to pay back my student loan in a year, and, to top it all off, move to India.
Funnily enough, Mike is also in the middle of a MLC. He recently decided to quit his own full-time job, give up the security of that income in exchange for more time to write and travel, and make freelancing work for him. Is it an accident these things happen so close to a big life decision? Decisions that aren’t easy, aren’t fun to make, and once made, will most likely forever alter the course of your life?
I’d like to think these moments aren’t lessons, that they’re not meant to teach us anything—keep an eye on your belongings at all times, don’t leave your laptop in a bus stop—because for 99% of the time, it’s common sense stuff we’re already doing.
Rather than a lesson, I can’t help thinking they’re a test.
As if the universe finds out about our decision, says, “Let’s see how serious she was about that,” and decides to organize a little experiment: to check if we go running at the first sign of disaster.
Because that’s exactly what I want to do. Run. Hide. Crawl back into bed and start the day over. Leave my laptop at home. Cry.
Which I did—both times, many times. In the U.S. Consulate General in Belfast, filing for an emergency passport. In a London Starbucks, siphoning free internet onto my iTouch, sobbing so hard a Polish barista asked if I was okay and brought me ice water.
Slowly, though, I’ve started to see that when our decisions—the big kind, the scary kind—meet their own travel disasters, it might also just mean they’re the right kind. That we’re doing something right.
And Mike, my friend—hang in there. You got this.
I once left some pyjamas under a pillow on a school trip. I was so gutted (they were uber-cool Little Miss Sunshine ones) that I’ve checked every bench and bus seat I’ve left behind me ever since and always turn the hotel room upside down. You’ve got me worried now though – I’m at exactly that MLC stage of my life!
Little Miss Sunshine pjs sound pretty awesome 🙂 I definitely understand that–I left one of my favorite Indian scarves on a bus in Sri Lanka last year, and was annoyed with myself for days after that! PS – what’s your MLC coming up?
Oh god, these stories are awful. I’m so sorry. This has happened to me too, and I’m an idiot. I started to write a book and had about 20,000 words written and then my laptop was stolen from my house because my housemate had left the window open and I hadn’t locked my door. They probably got about £200 for that, but all my work was gone and not backed up.
Also had three bikes stolen and two iPhones in London. Funnily enough, nothing while travelling – oh actually my hoody from a communal shower room in Rome. It was a skanky hoody, but I loved it. Bet they just took it for the thrill 🙁
It’s so much harder when it’s sentimental things and yes, even more if you’re feeling a bit more fragile than usual in life.
I hope you’ve recovered from the traumas above, and Mike, hope you’re ok too.
We might be idiots, but at least we’re not mean, horrible, selfish or at best desperate people who feel the need to steal laptops, money, hard work and memories. x
You put all of that perfectly, Vicky. It does seem quite extraordinary that some people feel it’s okay to take something as big as a laptop or wallet (or as small as a hoody!). And I can only imagine how devastating it would be to lose 20,000 words. That was actually my main concern after my laptop was taken–there was a 12,000-word document on it with notes from India, but thankfully I’d copied it onto Google Docs at one point. While it’s never fun to lose photos, words we spend time crafting are even harder to cope with losing.
Oh Candace, lovely post…my story is sad, but as you wrote it tought me a lesson, it made me a different person and it also did change the course of my life for good. Lose can come in many forms and though plane tickets and money seem a lot at the time and a computer with 8.000 pictures a read dissaster, my biggest lose came when my mum passed away.I know, I know this is different, but please bare with me for a second. The thing is, I did cope well at the begining, but strange things started to happen. I started to lose other people and things. First my best friend, then my second best friend. Both decided our paths go different ways. I guess the universe has already had a plan for me in store, I just didn’t see it or didnt want to see it at the time. Then on my 29th birthday my car got stolen. First time in my life something I really loved got taken away from me. And it was a big thing, not a backpack or a wallet I would forget somewhere. I wasn’t stupid. I locked my car. I knew I did. But it was none the less gone. I still remember how I looked at the empty spot where my car was parked a day before. Next thing I lost some months later was my job. There was no work for me they said. None. Just like that, from one day to another. Then I said ok, I give up. Let’s see what universe wants me to do. The last thing I did was move out of the flat I’ve been living for 10 years. And I started to travel 🙂 In a way, I didnt lose things while travelling, I lost things in order to start to travel. Interestingly enough your post brought me to this thought. Thank you for that and Good luck to Mike.
Hello, my dear friend–thank you for such honest thoughts. Reading what you wrote certainly puts my own post in perspective–I couldn’t imagine losing so many people that close to me, and then something as big as a car. Your resilience is truly amazing. I really appreciate the way you put it–“I lost things in order to start to travel.” That’s so profound, and I hope can talk more about this one day!
Let’s meet before you leave please. This coming week would be possible, then I am off to Berlin and you leave about that time too. I contacted the guy from Slow travel but I guess he belongs to the Slow emailing society too 🙂 No reply. Sorry about that. But def. need to see you before your new journey begins.
Haha, yes, I can be a part of that emailing society sometimes, too, so I don’t have too much room to talk 🙂 It’s a shame that didn’t work out though, as I would’ve loved the chance to share about the run! I leave on Thursday for a weekend trip to Sweden, but let me send you an email tomorrow about trying to meet up–unfortunately things are a bit tight, but would obviously love to try and see you, if only for a quick coffee. Talk soon!
Still believing for a miraculous return of your hard drive. It can happen. Great post.
Yes, you never know! I’m sure stranger things have happened 🙂 I always think of you and your laptop in Paris as well–that would’ve been such an awful way to start your trip out.
Hey Candace!
Hope you are doing fine!
Beautiful post, and perfectly put! Well, almost everyone faces this test in life I guess. Even I lost my iPhone, which I had bought with my scholarship money. But, keeping the sad part aside, it taught me to be more careful with my belongings. That’s how it goes. Learn from the mistakes that we commit. 🙂
And yeah, I am moving to Zurich for a period of 70 days- starting from 4th May. The Visa is ready.
Take care and stay happy 🙂
Hi, Nirmit! That is such fantastic news to hear you’ll be coming to Zurich after all–I only wish I was still going to be here in Europe to come visit 🙂 How cool that it worked out though…you must be so excited! Thanks for saying hello, I hope you’re doing well and aren’t too busy with schoolwork. Take care 🙂
Yeah I am very excited! Already have some plans made.. 🙂 But I was expecting you to be there in Europe.. 🙁 But not to worry,surely have another chance to meet when you are here in India 🙂
And yes, schoolwork and all is pretty relaxed, or I’m lazying off a bit.. 😛
Take care and enjoy 😀
That’s fantastic! I’m sure you’ll want to make the most of your time here this summer 🙂 Let me know if I can help with anything, or if you want ideas of where else to visit! And yes–I’m planning to be in India for quite a while this time, so I have no doubt we’ll meet again at some point. Take care 🙂
Thanks. I will surely let you know if I need information about something. And it’s awesome that you are planning to stay back in India for a longer duration. 🙂
Take care
Staying strong in the face of adversity is not easy. Good for you for being able to cope so well with it (even through the tears… which were perfectly called for, btw). x
It’s definitely not, Lisa–but I’ve found a different kind of strength tends to emerge in these situations, one you often didn’t even realize you have! Thanks for saying hello–and for justifying my tears as well 🙂
Awww this post really made me feel for you. But you’re right, everything happens for a reason, it’s a test and I’m sure you’ve passed it with flying colors. 😉
Thanks, Nellie! My travel “disasters” aren’t something I talk about too often here, but it’s been interesting to read everyone’s comments and hear their own stories of travel-gone-wrong. I’m really looking forward to a new MacBook in May and starting to fill it up again with another 8,000 photos of India 🙂
oh you get it so right with ‘if not one else is there to call you an idiot, YOU will’…never had anything big stolen (at 20 had my wallet pick-pocketed going round tesco as I picked up some lunch prior to boarding a coach to go to Germany from Edinburgh…thankfully it was just my cards and ID, NOT my wallet. also I couldn’t buy my lunch).
But last summer me and t’other half missed a plane home from China. The sad thing was it really wasn’t anyone’s fault, per se, just a horrid culmination of events. So we didn’t even have the emotional transient-satisfaction of a blazing row. Finding out that we weren’t covered by our travel insurance (but would have been had we stayed in our hotel room) was the pits. Waiting 15 hours for our newly-purchased at a cost of £1300 flights back to the UK-but not actually to where we lived- was horrible. Your description of the berating calls suddenly crashing back just as you let your mind rest ring so true and bring back some very raw memories.
our only salve that day was being able to lend an iPhone charger to an aussie girl who’d missed her homeward connection to Australia because the chinese authorities had given her massive grief as she transited through- at one point taking her passport off her- she was very distressed but cutting short a call home to save battery. the least we could do was give her an hour of our cable (and beijing airport, miraculously, supply the plug sockets).
i still feel idiotic and not a little ill thinking about that trip. it is overshadowing our next big journey. hopefully next time, it’ll go smoothly and I’ll get some relief.
Thanks for sharing that story, Helen. I can definitely imagine how discouraging that situation would’ve been–and it’s certainly not the way you want to end a trip either. At least you were able to help a fellow traveler out–I’m sure she appreciated it! Where are you off to on your next journey, by the way? I’ll be sending lots of happy-travel vibes your way before you set off on it 🙂
You are too nice, Candace. Too nice.
And I’ve had it easy, frankly. I’ve been lucky. The *^$”&^$ grabbed my travel wallet, but I was working on my laptop with my phone and camera to hand and so they weren’t filched as well. If they had been, I’d be in a much sorrier state right now.
I cannot imagine the hell you were put through, having your laptop stolen. And that really is the word. Finding a piece of obviously treasured tech – a phone full of numbers, a camera full of photos, a laptop full of *everything – and then not making any effort to put it back in the hands of the owner, when the owner’s contact information is plastered all over it….it’s not Finders Keepers or any such excuses that I’ve heard from the mouths of idiots – it’s outright stealing. And it makes me angry when people pretend otherwise. It’s not a grey area – it’s theft. With added emotional assault charges. And it’s a lot worse than just stealing money. A *lot* worse.
I also find myself riled at the self-recrimination that is forced upon us. It’s good to be faced with the reality of these things – to review safe practices and to smarten up with personal security. But the “finders keepers” way of thinking is often coupled with the “it’s your own fault” way of thinking. ‘We had our stuff pinched because we had it coming to us’. And that makes me angry as well. Nobody invites theft. They may leave a gap in their defences that someone exploits for their own selfish gain, but….yeah. The line is clear-cut.
That said…I agree with your theme at the end. And I firmly believe that surmounting trials like this is boot-camp for something bigger and more important. And that’s why we’ve been given this trial. Not to get all Woo about all this, mind. I’m not claiming some hotline to a higher power. But it feels right to me that extraordinary things foster extraordinary people. Even if in my case “extraordinary” is a synonym for “disaster magnet”. 😉
I loved reading this post.
Although at the same time, I wish I had never read it, because that would mean you hadn’t written it because you’d never had your laptop and purse stolen.
But I cannot fully criticise any event, however awful, that leads you to writing about it, because you’re really good at this writing lark, lady. Fact.
Thank you. 🙂
What a fantastic comment. One of those that, like a good email from a friend or a favorite book, you can’t help but read over a couple of times–so thank you! As a travel writer, I’ve come to feel the same way about “disasters”–or just things not going according to plan–as I used to about heartbreak as a songwriter. Back in high school and uni, my mom always asked why I never wrote a “happy song.” But I simply never found inspiration in times when all was right with the world…and I think this is perhaps become true in writing as well. All stories need conflict and sadly, the latest conflict in our own stories has been some serious loss. But I’m so relieved to hear you at least kept hold of your phone and camera–no need to lose everything at once! I’m still excited about both of our new ventures in life–and am convinced we shall not be too deterred by any temporary setbacks 🙂 Here’s to new passports and new laptops, for all of the travels and thoughts soon to come our way!
Why didn’t I know that that happened to you?
Ah, I thought I would’ve told you! Or maybe I was too busy fawning over kir royales and instantaneously cut silhouettes to dampen our lovely evening with such bad news 🙂 See you tomorrow!
What a lovely post! I try to look a the bright side of things but it is so darn hard sometimes.
Also, I think I should go look into a way to back up my computer before I manage to lose it now!
Cheers!
Hello, Jenny! Thanks so much for your kind words. Yes, if there’s anything this little incident has taught me, it’s this: back up, back up, back up! Definitely do it now before anything can happen to all your precious words and photos 🙂
Reading this put the sinking-stone feeling in my gut all over again…and why is it that these disasters always happen in the middle of our MLCs?!
Last summer, while in Barcelona with a friend, I had all of my tech gear taken from me (about $3,500 worth of camera equipment, computer, etc.) that I was using to further my business and chronicle my trip…and I had just left my job the month before, and I was living off of savings. The salt in the wound was that our passports were also in the pack, and we were on our way to the airport for an international flight.
But you know what? The hospitality of the Spaniards was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed. The police officer who filed our reports offered us a place to stay if we couldn’t find a hostel (it was summer, and every place in the city was full), and our original hostel managers took us under their wing and gave us beds for mere pennies. I’ll never forget them 🙂
So yes, it sucks losing everything…in all, I lost about 1,200 pictures and 30,000 words (two journals were stolen), in addition to the equipment. But in a weird way, it’s sort of like an initiation that we backpackers eventually have to pass through, yes?
Oh, Zak…reading your story breaks my heart. That’s awful to hear, and I can only imagine what that must have felt like–to have all of that taken at once…what a blow! I hate that these things happen, but hopefully we’re now stronger because of it. And from the looks of your new site, it seems like everything is back on track for you 🙂 Hope all’s well!
A great way of putting things. in ddeed.
Once my old computer jjust stoped to work, just like that….so I just lost there like 60 poems of my own….so very sad at that moment…now just learned that things are for share, so once I get an ended poem, I usually give to someone that “help me” writing that piece…. so at least, if I loss all again, I know that at least someone read it and perhaps enjoy it as well.
Thanks for stopping by, Francisco. I’m sorry to hear about the loss of your poems (and computer, too!)–I think that’s the most frustrating part about losing electronics…not so much the items themselves, but what we’ve kept on them. Hope you’ve been able to replace some of them by now!
I love this. When I left my laptop in a cab with five years worth of pictures from 29 countries, I was utterly devastated…once I got over the jetlag. My friend Lauren of Spanish Sabores was quick to lament, and I berate myself over the lapse in my usual heightened consciousness. I’ve been privy to lose two cell phones and now this…but I think losing my camera would devastate me more. My heart goes out to you, lady!
Thanks so much for sharing that story, Cat! As you read here, I so understand how devastating it is to lose a laptop (and the many thousands of photos on it…). Sometimes I wish it wasn’t the big ticket items that tend to disappear – it’d certainly making getting over the theft a bit easier 🙂
Hi, I am the mother of someone just like you. My daughter is a travel blogger who got her bag stolen by a taxi driver in Amsterdam containing passport, keys, phone, money and driving licence. Luckily her laptop was locked in her locker at the hostel and she managed to get away from the taxi driver safely. This is when you learn just how helpful people can be. There is a charity linked to the police in Amsterdam who gave my daughter tremendous support. They let her phone me in the UK, gave her tram fares to get to the British Consul and even vouchers for McDonalds. We sent her money through Western Union and as she had no I.d. to go and collect it, the woman from Amsterdam Assist arranged that too. My daughter was very lucky not to have been hurt and has learned to separate her valuables. She leaves a bank card and some I.d. locked in the hostel when she goes out and, like you, she let her readers know about it so they can avoid similar situations. I hope you continue to enjoy your travels and as I say at the end of every message that I send to runawayjane, “Stay safe!”