And life goes on. . .

Jessica and I were chatting, sitting at Juan Valdez cafe. Suddenly, a hand reached down, grabbed my laptop by the screen, and took off running. My scream of "noooooooooo!" in anger and frustration did nothing to stop him. I took off running after him in my socks, jumping the knee high wall seconds after he did. I was hopeful that I'd catch up to him, or someone coming down the street in the other direction would stop him, but when he jumped on the back of his friend's motorcycle and took off, the anger in my voice as I shouted "no" turned to desperation. I stood there, shaking on the sidewalk in my stocking feet realizing there was absolutely nothing I could do. All the other customers started sharing their version of the events- he was wearing a grey jacket, he had bought a coffee, so he should be on the video camera inside, etc. etc. But, when I asked , "now what should I do?" the girl at the table next to us, looked at me and answered in English, "Nothing. You're in Colombia."

I reported it to the police, but just so I could say I did my part. Now, I'm getting used to borrowing laptops and writing my lesson plans on paper. And mourning the loss of 2 and a half years worth of pictures and work.