SO, I got STABBED IN COLOMBIA

Posted: 04/02/2019 | April 2nd, 2019

Editor’s Note: I wavered on composing about this for a long time since I didn’t want to put people off on Colombia or perpetuate the myth that danger lurks around every corner. As you can tell from my posts here, here, here, and here, I truly like the country. I mean it’s awesome. (And there will be plenty more blog posts about how great it is.) but I blog about all my experiences – good or bad – and this story is a good lesson on travel safety, the importance of always following local advice, and what occurs when you stop doing so.

“Eşti în regulă?”

“Aici. ia loc.”

“Do you need some water?”

A growing crowd had gathered around me, all offering help in one form or another.

“No, no, no, I believe I’ll be OK,” I stated waving them off. “I’m just a bit stunned.”

My arm and back throbbed while I tried to regain my composure. “I’m going to be truly sore in the morning,” I thought.

“Come, come, come. We insist,” stated one girl. She led me back onto the walkway where a security guard provided me his chair. Am stat jos.

“Care e numele tău? Here’s some water. Is there anyone we can call?”

“Voi fi bine. I’ll be fine,” I kept replying.

My arm throbbed. “Getting punched sucks,” I stated to myself.

Regaining my composure, I slowly took off the jacket I was wearing. I was as well sore for any quick motions anyways. I needed to see how bad the bruises were.

As I did so, gasps arose from the crowd.

My left arm and shoulder were dripping with blood. My shirt was soaked through.

“Shit,” I stated as I realized what had happened. “I believe I just got stabbed.”

***
There’s a perception that Colombia is unsafe, that despite the heyday of the drug wars being over, danger lurks around most corners and you have to be truly careful here.

It’s not a completely unwarranted perception. Petty crime is extremely common. The 52-year civil war killed 220,000 people — although thankfully this number has significantly dropped since the 2016 peace agreement.

While you are unlikely to be blown up, randomly shot, kidnapped, or ransomed by guerrillas, you are extremely likely to get pickpocketed or mugged. There were over 200,000 armed robberies in Colombia last year. While fierce crimes have been on the decline, petty crime and robbery has been on the upswing.

Before I went to Colombia, I’d heard countless stories of petty theft. While there, I heard even more. A friend of mine had been robbed three times, the last time at gunpoint while on his method to meet me for dinner. Locals and expats alike told me the exact same thing: the rumors of petty theft are true, but if you keep your wits about you, follow the rules, and don’t flash your valuables, you’ll be OK.

There’s even a local expression about it: “No dar papaya” (Don’t give papaya). Essentially, it means that you shouldn’t have something “sweet” out in the open (a phone, computer, watch, etc.) that would make you a target. keep your valuables hidden, don’t roam around locations you shouldn’t at night, don’t flash money around, avoid coming out of nightlife areas alone at night, etc. just put: Don’t put yourself in a position where people can take advantage of you.

I heeded such advice. I didn’t wear headphones in public. I didn’t take my phone out unless I was in a group or a restaurant, or completely sure nobody else was around. I took just enough money for the day with me when I left my hostel. I warned buddies about using fancy fashion jewelry or watches when they visited.

But, the longer you are somewhere, the more you get complacent.

When you see locals on their phones in congested areas, tourists toting thousand-dollar cameras, and youngsters using Airpods and Apple Watches, you begin to think, “OK, during the day, it’s not so bad.”

The more nothing occurs to you, the more indifferent you get.

Suddenly, you step out of a cafe with your phone out without even believing about it.

In your hands is papaya.

And somebody wishes to take it.

***
It was near sunset. I was on a busy street in La Candelaria, the main tourist area of Bogotá. The cafe I had been at was closing, so it was time to find somewhere new. I decided to head to a hostel to finish some work and take advantage of happy hour.

I’d been in Bogotá for a few days now, enjoying a city most people compose off. There was a appeal to it. even in the tourist hotspot of La Candelaria, it didn’t feel as gringofied as Medellín. It felt the most authentic of all the big Colombian cities I had visited. I was loving it.

I exited the cafe with my phone out, completing a text message. It had slipped my mind to put it away. It was still light outside, there were crowds around, and lots of security. After nearly six weeks in Colombia, I had grown contented in circumstances like this.

“What’s truly going to happen? Voi fi bine.”

Three steps out of the door, I felt somebody clean up against me. At first, I believed it wasCineva care a trecut pe lângă mine până când mi -am dat seama repede că un tip încerca să -mi scoată telefonul din mână.

Lupta sau zborul s -a instalat – și m -am luptat.

„Scoate -mă de mine!” Am strigat în timp ce mă luptam cu el, păstrând o strângere de fier pe telefon. Am încercat să -l împing departe.

„Ajută, ajută, ajută!” Am strigat în aer.

Rețin în mod distinct aspectul confuz asupra acordului său de parcă ar fi așteptat o notă ușoară. Că telefonul mi -ar aluneca din mână și el ar fi plecat înainte ca cineva să -l poată prinde.

Fără un cuvânt, a început să -mi lovească brațul stâng și am continuat să rezist.

“Lasă-mă! Ajutor ajutor!”

Ne -am aruncat în stradă.

Am dat cu piciorul, am țipat, i -am blocat pumni.

Agitația a declanșat oameni să alerge spre noi.

Imposibil de a disloca telefonul din mâna mea, Mugger s -a întors și a fugit.

***
După ce oamenii m -au ajutat să mă așez și adrenalina s -a folosit, am fost cu vârf. Urechile mele au sunat. Am avut dificultăți să mă concentrez pentru câteva clipe.

Sângele picura cu cămașa înmuiată.

„La naiba”, am spus că privesc brațul și umărul meu.

Am încercat să mă compun.

După ce am crescut înconjurat de medici și asistente, am alergat cu o listă de verificare rapidă „cât de rău este asta” în mintea mea.

Am făcut un pumn. Îmi puteam simți degetele. Aș putea să -mi mișc brațul. „OK, cel mai probabil nu am leziuni nervoase sau musculare.”

Puteam să respir și nu tusesc sânge. „OK, cel mai probabil nu am un plămân perforat.”

Încă puteam să mă plimb și să -mi simt degetele de la picioare.

Capul meu ușor s-a disipat.

„OK, cel mai probabil nu este la fel de bine daune majore”, am crezut.

Cuvintele pe care nu le -am înțeles au fost rostite în spaniolă. Un medic a arătat și a asistat curat și a pus presiune asupra rănilor mele. O tânără doamnă din mulțime care a vorbit engleza mi-a luat telefonul și mi-a conectat vocea singurul prieten din Bogotá pentru a-i anunța situația.

Pe măsură ce o ambulanță ar dura la fel de mult, poliția, care a numărat aproximativ o duzină de până acum, m -a împachetat pe spatele unui camion și m -a dus la un spital, oprind traficul de web pe metoda ca și cum aș fi fost un demnitar onorat.

Folosind Google Equare pentru a comunica, poliția m -a inspectat la spital. Au dat jos cât mai multe informații, mi -au arătat o poză cu atacatorul (da, asta este el!) Și l -a sunat pe prietenul meu să o actualizeze despre locul în care mă aflam.

Când am așteptat să fie văzut de medici, a apărut proprietarul căminului meu. După ce mi -au luat adresa, polițiștii au sunat la pensiune pentru a -i anunța ce s -a întâmplat și ea s -a repezit.

Personalul spitalului m -a văzut repede. (Bănuiesc că este un gringo înjunghiat m -a atras mai repede atenția.)

Am intrat într -una din sălile de examinare. Cămașa mea a ieșit, mi -au curățat brațul și spatele și au evaluat daunele.

Am avut cinci răni: două pe brațul stâng, două pe umărul meu și una pe spate, mici tăieturi care au rupt pielea, cu două apărând ca și cum ar fi intrat în mușchi. Dacă cuțitul ar fi fost mai lung, aș fi avut probleme grave: o tăietură era chiar pe gulerul meu și alta, în special aproape de coloana vertebrală.

Când credeți de termenul „înjunghiere”, credeți de o lamă lungă, o singură tăiată adânc în abdomen sau spate. Imaginați pe cineva cu un cuțit care se extinde în spital pe o targă.

Nu a fost cazul pentru mine. Fusesem, mai corect colocvial, cuțit.

Prost înnebunit.

Dar doar cuțit.

Nu exista nicio lamă care să se extindă din intestin sau din spate. Nu ar exista o intervenție chirurgicală. Fără lacerații profunde.

Rănile nu ar avea nevoie de mai mult decât antibiotice, cusături și timp pentru a se vindeca. Mult timp. (Cât timp? Acest lucru a avut loc la sfârșitul lunii ianuarie și a durat două luni pentru ca vânătăile să scadă.)

Am fost cusută, luată pentru o radiografie pentru a mă asigura că nu am un plămân perforat și a trebuit să stau încă șase ore, în timp ce au făcut o urmărire. Prietenul meu și proprietarul căminului au rămas puțin.

În acea perioadă, am rezervat un zbor spre casă. În timp ce rănile mele nu erau serioase și aș fi putut rămâne în Bogotá, nu voiam să o pericol. Spitalul a refuzat să -mi ofere antibiotice și, fiind un pic suspect de meseria lor de cusături, mi -am dorit să mă întorc acasă, în timp ce totul era încă proaspăt. Când ieșeam din spital, a trebuit chiar să le cer să -mi acopere rănile. Urmau să -i lase expuși.

Este mai bine să fii fără riscuri decât să-mi pare rău.

***
Privind în urmă, aș fi făcut ceva diferit?

Este ușor de spus: „De ce nu i -ai dat doar telefonul tău?”

Dar nu este ca și cum ar fi condus cu o armă. Dacă ar fi făcut acest lucru,, evident, aș fi predat telefonul. Acest copil (și s -a dovedit că era doar un copil de aproximativ 17 ani) a încercat doar să -l prindă din mâna mea, iar instinctul natural al oricui ar fi să se retragă.

Dacă cineva ți -a furat poșeta, ți -ai luat computerul în timp ce îl foloseai sau ai încerca să -ți apuci ceasul, reacția ta inițială și primară nu ar fi: „Oh, bine!” Ar fi: „Hei, dă -mi înapoi lucrurile mele!”

Și dacă aceste lucruri ar fi încă conectate la mâna ta, te -ai trage înapoi, ai striga după ajutor și speri că moșul va dispărea. mai ales când este încă zi și there are crowds around. You can’t always assume a mugger has a weapon.

Based on the information I had at the time, I don’t believe I would have done anything differently. Nature just set in.

Things could have been a lot worse: The knife could have been longer. He could have had a gun. I could have turned the wrong way, and that little blade could have hit a major artery or my neck. The knife was so little that I didn’t even feel it during the attack. A longer blade might have triggered me to recoil more and drop my phone. Nu știu. If he had been a better mugger, he would have kept running forward and I wouldn’t have been able to catch up as the forward motion made the phone leave my hand.

The permutations are endless.

This was also just a matter of being unlucky. A wrong time and wrong place situation. This could have occurred to me anywhere. You can be in the wrong place and the wrong time in a million locations and in a million situations.

Life is risk. You’re not in manage of what occurs to you the second you walk out the door. You believe you are. You believe you have a handle on the circumstance — but then you walk out of a café and get knifed. You get in a car that accidents or a helicopter that goes down, eat food that hospitalizes you, or, despite your finest health efforts, drop dead from a heart attack.

Anything can happen to you at any time.

We make plans as if we are in control.

But we’re not in manage of anything.

All we can do is manage our reaction and responses.

I truly like Bogotá. I truly like Colombia. The food was tasty and the scenery breathtaking. Throughout my go to there, people were inquisitive, friendly, and happy.

And when this happened, I marveled at all the people who assisted me, who stayed with me up until the police came, the many police officers who assisted me in numerous ways, the physicians who went to to me, the hostel owner who ended up being my translator, and my friend who drove an hour to be with me.

Everyone apologized. everyone understood this was what Colombia is understood for. They wished to let me know this was not Colombia. I believe they felt worse about the attack than I did.

But this experience reminded me of why you can’t get complacent. I provided papaya. I shouldn’t have had my phone out. When I left the cafe, I should have put it away. It didn’t matter the time of day. That’s the rule in Colombia. keep your valuables hidden. especially in Bogota, which does have a higher rate of petty crime than elsewhere in the country. I didn’t follow the advice.

And I got unlucky because of it. I’d been having my phone out as well often and, with each non-incident, I grew more and more relaxed. I kept dropping my guard down more.

What occurred was unlucky but it didn’t need to happen if I had complied with the rules.

This is why people always warned me to be careful.

Because you never know. You’re fine up until you aren’t.

That said, you’re still unlikely to have a problem. All those incidences I talked about? All involved people breaking the ironclad “No Dar Papaya” rule and either having something valuable our or walking alone late at night in areas they shouldn’t have. Don’t break the rule! This could have occurred to me anywhere in the world where I didn’t follow the security rules you’re supposed to that help you minimize risk.

But, also know, if you do get into trouble, Colombians will help you out. From my hostel owner to the cops to the people who sat with me when it occurred to the random guy in the hospital who provided me chocolate, it turns out, you can always depend upon the generosity of strangers. They made a harrowing experience a lot easier to deal with.

I’m not going to let this freak incident change my view of such an fantastic country. I’d go back to Colombia the exact same method I’d get in a car after a car accident. In fact, I was terribly upset to leave. I was having an fantastic time