I’m staying with Ben and Sonja and another nice Norwegian named Aina for a couple days until my new place in Recoleta opens up (tomorrow). I moved my stuff over to Ben’s on Sunday afternoon and had a bit of a misadventure.

I had my big backpack on, and my black satchel slung around my neck; I was also carrying a bag of food from my old place that I didn’t want to throw away so I thought it would be worth carrying the 5 or 6 blocks to my new digs. I made it to about 30 feet from the stoop of Ben’s building when I felt a bit of liquid drop onto my head. I didn’t think much of it, seeing as I’d had water from air conditioners & various other fluids drop onto my head walking down the street. However, it happened again (this time a whole lot more) a second or two later, and I thought that I’d had the misfortune of having someone’s dirty cleaning water thrown down onto me and my various bags. A woman brushed past me on the left just afterward and I thought it odd that she didn’t share my misfortune. She looked busy, however, so I didn’t think too much about it.

A kindly-looking middle-aged man across the street evidently saw what happened and gave a kind chuckle at my misfortune. He smiled and shook his head and pointed up at the building above me. I wasn’t too worried about it at this point; I knew that I had some pretty gross stuff on my head and bag but knew that I could take care of it as soon as I got inside the apartment. A few seconds later I arrived at Ben’s door and was ready to go in when the kindly man materialized next to me and took some tissues out of his pocket to help me clean off my head. I took some and wiped my head off. He suggested in rapid Spanglish and pantomime that I my bag was covered with the stuff and that I ought to set it down and he would help me clean it off. I was at the stoop at this point, and I rang the bell and was waiting to be let in (and my bag was pretty damned heavy), so I set my black satchel down, rested my big bag on top of it, and set my bag of food next to it. They were all directly in front of me, in the stoop of Ben’s building.

Kindly man magnanimously offered his bottle of water to help clean the (really, very disgusting, viscous, green, and rotten-meat-smelling) stuff off my bag. This is getting a little weird, isn’t it? Why is the man being so nice? Are you getting suspicious yet? So I took some of his proffered tissues, wet it with his water, and proceeded to wipe down my bag a bit. Keep in mind that I had my bags at my feet (still in the stoop) the whole time, and my attention was directed wholely at them as I waited to be let in. Until, that is, the kindly, decently dressed, helpful older man moved down the street a few feet and started speaking in rapid Spanish. He was holding up his bottle of water and tissues and said, (as far as I can remember) “You can buy these at the store for 2 pesos.” What a bizarre thing to say, right?

My attention returned to my bags and at the same time a couple of ladies opened the door to Ben’s lobby and asked me in. I gathered up my bags, set them in the foyer, saw Ben coming out of the elevator and made a pretty horrible realization:

I was missing a bag. Didn’t you see that coming?

I had a pretty agonizing fifteen or twenty minutes in which Ben took my bags up to his flat for me and I ran around the neighborhood looking for a kindly, evil man porting my satchel around. I was hating, hating, the people of Buenos Aires at this point, and despising myself for being so easily duped. I was trying to remember what I’d put into the black satchel, too, as I’d used it as a bit of a catch-all after I’d packed most everything else into my big bag. Of course, I’d thought I’d lost my passport, my credit cards (again), all my documentation, my iPhone, camera, and everything else I might possibly need to continue traveling and maybe even get home if I needed to. I was in a bad place.

I came home, Ben talked me down off the ledge (and made some tea, which I liked), and I gradually took stock of what I’d lost. It turns out that the only thing of value was about $100 in American (my backup emergency funds), my dorky glasses, and sadly my camera, which I hope my credit card’s travel insurance will cover. And I’d already gotten all the pictures off it the night before.

So, did you figure out what happened? The liquid didn’t come from the apartment above, the lady threw the green rotten meat juice at me. And the man moved my attention down the street to allow someone (the lady?) to snatch my bag as I was trying to understand what the hell he was talking about. This all happened in the space of 30 seconds. And I was at the door of my new apartment.

Blerg.

I’m going to the police station today and skyping my credit card company again to report the camera stolen, which should be fun.