Oh Paris...

Another bad experience in Paris happened! Well, not to me personally, but I was there as a witness, and man, it sucked... This sounds bad no matter how I say it, but I do thank God that it wasn't me again. To have had it happen twice to me just seems a bit cruel, doesn't it?

Anyway, my friend and I were walking out of the Chanel Boutique on rue Cambon. Before you start imagining us with a dozen shopping bags and wasting all our money on Chanel stuff, we actually just had one bag each, and the items inside were small. I just bought like a pair of sunglasses, and my friend only rubber sandals. So, no, we didn't shop like crazy.

So as we walked out, a small group of 3 Italian girls (or so they say) asked us to help them find where rue Cambon was on their map because they were heading to Opera and said they didn't know where they were. Honestly, these three girls just looked like lost backpackers, so unsuspectingly, my friend helped them point out to the street name on the map to the two girls, while the third girl was talking to me and I just pointed to the direction. After all it was super easy, they just needed to walk straight up rue Cambon on to Boulevard des Capucines and turn left at rue Scribe.

A nice gesture on our part - really. But this nice gesture was then repaid by the fact that after we parted ways and turned to rue Duphot where the office entrance was (we left the office for like half an hour to go buy the stuff!), my friend noticed that her hundred euro bills went missing from her wallet! I swear to you, they were in her wallet when we left the Chanel Boutique, and they were gone ten minutes later!

The crazy thing was, the wallet was not taken, so it was purely only the cash. Someone we told this story to even said it wasn't a pick pocket, it was a magician! And to top it all off, when my friend went to the police station at Place du Marche (I think), they were very unhelpful, and even accused her of lying! I couldn't believe it! I mean, their city is full of crime left and right, the very least the police could do was be nice to tourists!!!! (I hope some of you out there reading this actually know some policemen/women in Paris so you could tell them to be niceer!)

At least when it happened to me, the guys at the police station were really nice about it and were really concerned about me. They kept asking if I was OK and if I needed anything, and they called the embassy for me... They were just really nice. After thinking about it however, it could be because they were suburban, not in the city centre. Maybe things are just a lot harsher in the city...

So anyway, long story short, please, please keep safe when traveling to Paris! And for Parisians that are reading, c'mon, do something about this. You get like (according to Wiki) nearly 15 billion visitors a year, and your economy could greatly benefit from them... Make us all feel welcomed so we don't think twice about coming back..!

Ok, that's my rant for the day.
On a happier note, I am leaving Paris today to go home and see my kids and husband. Miss them so much, and I can't wait to hug them! :)

Bye bye bag...

Ah, Paris... City of Lights? Maybe. City of Crime? Heck, yes!
I was minding my own business, talking with some colleagues in the cab ride from the Charles de Gaulle airport to the hotel when all of a sudden, the window was smashed and some dude (now, nearly 12 hours later I call him "dude" but earlier he was "jerk") grabbed my bag. My beautiful black leather Chanel bag, with some of my lifelines inside: iPhone, Blackberry, iPod, wallet (with cash + cards), limited edition Emilio Pucci pen, Chanel necklace, lipstick, business cards, passport, ID card, frequent flyer cards, and the list continues (unfortunately).

I was stunned, shocked and literally speechless. It wasn't until my friend kept shouting to the cab driver to call the police did I actually realize what had happened. I swear, when the window was smashed, I actually thought I was being shot at, and I didn't even realize my bag was gone.

After the shock came anger. It was like I was on an anger high or something, I couldn't stop being so upset at the stupid dude who took my stuff. I hadn't felt anger like that in a very long time.

Then, came sadness. I was so overwhelmed by sadness that I had lost some of the things I really (really) loved and depended on (i.e. Blackberry for tweeting and iPhone for all my games) that I kept crying and crying until my eyes felt like they were burning. Of course, while I was at the police station, I kept my cool, but as soon as I checked into the hotel, I cried buckets.

Now, after all that, what's left of me is wonder. I can't stop to wonder and ask so many questions: why did he need money so much that he would go to the lengths of committing a crime to get it? Why did it happen to me? Why didn't I keep my bag under my leg or something? Why didn't I see him coming? Why didn't the cab driver see him coming? Why can't the police catch him? What am I going to do with no money? How can I get back all the numbers and info I had in my phones? What happens after this?

Honestly, even though it's a long shot, but I have been telling myself that the guy needed an operation or needed to pay for college or something that cost a lot of money that he didn't have so he resorted to stealing. Somehow, this way of thinking helps me "forgive" - even though it's still nowhere close to being easy to do.

So they say that everything happens for a reason. I really, really, wonder what the reason is for this one. Seriously.