The Last Con of Peru

I left an important thing behind in my backpack. Feeling back in the tourist groove, I decided I didnt want or need my iPod with me while island hopping Lake Titicaca, and I certainly didn't need the weight of the full frame pack for one night. So I took my out of my pants pocket, and slipped it into the front pocket of my bag before giving the bag to the woman behind the desk to put in storage.

The storage, I didnt notice until later, had no lock.

Fast forward to the night after my Titicaca tour. I return to the hostel of the man who recruited me, pulled my bag out of storage, slapped away at the keyboard for an hour, ate dinner, went to my room, watched a little tv (oh yes, I had a tv), and went to sleep. Simple enough night.

Something woke me up from a sound sleep, and it wasnt a child-eating clown (I've been reading IT). It was a sudden feeling of loss, of longing. I jumped out of bed, ran to my bag, unzipped the frong pocket, and jammed my hand down the front. No iPod. I shuffled around in the completely unsecret secret pocket, no dice. Nor in any of the other pockets. My iPod was gone.

I felt violated, dirty, and stupid. How could I leave my most expensive possession unlocked? And I was angry; I'd been conned my first day in Peru, and I was not about to accept being robbed on my last.

Worse still, I was sure someone targeted it. My small wad of spare [counterfeit] 20s were left untouched, as was my spare camera. Someone knew where the iPod was and went for it. There was only one or two people who that could be. Hostel employees.

I grabbed my headlight and stormed downstairs. The lobby was dark and empty. I walked into the unlocked unguarded storeroom just to see if I hadnt dropped it. I hadnt, but someone else's innocent bag lay where mine once stood. Dark thoughts crossed my mind. I could easily ransack his bag and get a replacement. I bent down, studying it, inspecting it, considering it... but recoiled and tip-toed out of the storeroom, leaving the bag untouched.

Instead, I walked to the front door, and rang the bell. The sound was loud and jarring at any time, but especially at 2am. I rang it again and again until one of the hostel workers stumbled blearily downstairs, toddering dangerously as he went. He was small, and even standing on a stair I was taller than him. I blocked his decent, got within inches of his face, and shined my headlamp right in his eyes.

"I want back what you stole."

He seemed genuinely confused, though I couldnt tell whether that was just from lack of English. I knew how to say that in Spanish, but I wanted the intimidation. I repeated it again, quiet and cold, kissing distance from him, then repeated in Spanish to make sure he understood. The man balked. "No robo!"

He went on to defend himself in Spanish, but I couldnt understand his blathering, so he booted up the computer. Took a good 3 minutes to get the piece of shit up, but it was worth it for Google Translator. In hindsight, it must've been funny to see me threaten him via computer text, and him try to plead innocent while stumbling over his own sleepy fingers. In short, here's how it went down.

Me: You stole my iPod, I want it back now.
Him: I did not. Must've been another employee.
Me: They'll deny it. You were there.
Him: No, no one would get fired over an iPod?
Me: So they just expected I'd walk away without checking my bag?
Him: ... we'll give you your money back.
Me: The room cost 7 bucks. An iPod costs 200. Get me my iPod by 6am, or I'll trash this lobby until I've destroyed $193 worth of stuff.
Him: I'll get it by 5.

Afterwards, I returned upstairs to try and get some sleep. None would come. Could I really follow through with my promise to trash their hostel? Wont someone try to stop me, forcefully? I reached back into the burgled bag pocket, and produced my pocket knife. I peered at it more carefully than I ever had before, then hastily stuffed it in my pants pocket. I was going to keep my promise, and I swore I was going to defend myself if necessary, however I needed to. But would I? Could I?

I tried to get in a little sleep before the big confrontation at sunup, but it still didn't come. Tossing, turning, muted animal documentaries (because who wants to watch them dubbed?), nothing. Finally, I gave up, and at 5:15 crawled out of bed and put my knife-bearing pants on.

Before I could put on my shirt, a knock at my door. I opened it up, and the young man from last night, looking even more contrite than before, slipped his arm through the crack in the door. The outstretched arm held my iPod and headphones, no worse for wear.

I didn't ask him then or later who took it. I didn't ask how he convinced his coworkers - if he wasnt the thief himself - to give up the valuable stolen goods. I didn't ask him if my simultaneously-absurd-and-dangerous threat really made a difference. I simply went to sleep, easily. I'd taken enough of Peru's shit, and this time it blinked.