Ya know that bad feeling ...

I went to Valparaiso today. While it is a city with a certain charm, I was not as taken by it as some people (like, say, Pablo Neruda) have been. It has a charm similar to that of, say, Venice. It's a place that was once great, but no longer is. There are buildings that predate a 1906 earthquake that are beautiful. The city is full of colorfully-painted, if poorly constructed, houses that are draped up and down the hillsides.

But none of this has to do with that bad feeling in the title.

My guidebook warned that Valparaiso was, shall we say, not entirely safe. So I went with a paranoid mindset.

It didn't help, but the damage was somewhat contained.

My first observation was that through the 6 or so hours I spent there, I felt entirely safe. I had seated myself in a park full of families, children playing with soccer balls and such. I was resting against a palm tree, enjoying the scene. Behind me (behind the tree) were temporary booths used for hawking Christmas goods -- these were the backs of the booths, and there was no way for someone to come up behind me.

Or so I thought. I never saw the guy myself. You see, his pal asked me for the time, and then we had one of those typical hard exchanges where I can't understand what they say. However, the way the guy signed off the conversation left me with the aforementioned bad feeling...

I turned. The bag is missing.

He and his pals are moving away. I can't see my bag in their possession.

I chase. Someone nearby points out that my bag is on the other side of the tree I was sitting at. I give up the chase, retrieve the bag.

The only thing missing is the camera. It is, of the things in the bag, the only thing other than my passport that Really Matters (and I did have to bring it, of course).

However, gone with it are at least 10 days worth of pictures. If the CD made in Pucón is no good, they're all gone.

The moral of the story: keep your bag in sight.