Saturday, February 19
That fateful day, I was with a group of 12 people on our way from beautiful, tropical, Isla Mujeres. Destination Minneapolis, where the journey with my new friends had started.
At Punta Juarez in Cancun, my purse was stolen. It contained my passport, visa, wallet with two credit cards and my debit card, my smartphone. I reported the theft to a security guard who asked details of the theft and took my email address. She said she’d check security cameras and let me know if she found anything.
I had spent the previous week with this group, becoming (hopefully lifelong) friends with these amazing folks. Out of kindness, generosity, sympathy and concern, many members of the group gave me money, both in pesos and American cash.
I used the money to purchase a round trip ferry ticket to go back to the island, where two members of the group, John and Lissa, housed me for the next five days, again displaying remarkable generosity and kindness. John and Lissa instructed me to save the cash the group had given me for expenses I would incur during my return trip after I left the island. Lissa and John supported me in every way possible, allowing me not only to stay in their dwelling, use their computer, borrow a cell phone, eating their food, drinking their bottled water, and paying for every meal.
Sunday and Monday
Having every piece of identification stolen in a foreign country, a non-English speaking one, is a trial at best. A whirlwind of changing passwords on accounts that were now accessible through my stolen phone, cancelling credit/debit cards, figuring out what was needed to obtain an emergency passport, and waiting out a weekend and Federal holiday occupied my days. When the stress of the situation became to much, I buried myself in a John Grisham book, one I’d brought along, “just in case”. And I’m grateful I did. Grisham calmed and distracted me, and kept the emerging panic I would feel each morning at bay.
A series of trips to Isla’s business district allowed John to pay for a passport photo, a small beaded “replacement purse” to hold my remaining funds and passport once I received it. With a long cord I kept around my neck with the purse tucked into my shirt every time I traveled away from my temporary abode. John also paid for a “burner” phone, talk and text only, so I could communicate with my husband once I was back state side.
Tuesday
Now that businesses would be open again, John and I headed to Cancun and took a cab to the consulate. I provided the paperwork I’d already completed on John’s computer, and the passport photo from Monday. The consulate representative said the photo was no good as I was wearing my glasses. She also instructed me to make a deposit into an account so the new passport would be shipped from the Embassy in Merida to Cancun, where I could hopefully retrieve the passport on Wednesday. Ninety percent chance, she said. John and I took a bus to the photo studio, then back again to the consulate. I made the shipping deposit for my passport delivery and returned to the consulate with the receipt and new photo.
Wednesday
Wednesday back to Cancun. When we were at Puerto Juarez, we found the security officer I found the original officer I’d spoke with. She confirmed the security cameras were down for maintenance on the day of the theft. With no footage, the security office said no report could be filed.
That afternoon Lissa and I worked with the travel agent who’d planned the original trip to purchase tickets for me to fly to Minneapolis. Lissa also scheduled a service to take me from the port in Cancun to the airport.
Thursday February 24th, Exit Day!
Or “Just Because the End is in Sight Does Not Mean You Are Home Free”
I gave Lissa a grateful goodbye, asking her to please tell me I could handle the trip home on my own. I’d relied on her and John for what felt like weeks. She gave me the affirmation I sought, and another hug. John and I took a cab to the ferry for the last time. At Punta Juarez, I took the scheduled service to the airport, where I headed to the Immigration Office to obtain a replacement visa.
The immigration office informed me they only accept credit cards as payment. I tried to explain I had no credit cards, they’d been stolen. The agent at the counter was business like in her insistence I needed a card, period. I lucked out with a kind American couple who used a card to purchase my visa in return for equivalent pesos.
After I was through security, I found the gate and sat down to gobble up the pb&j sandwiches Lissa had prepared for me. I have never eaten such delicious pb&js! Feeling reluctant to leave the gate, I spent the remaining pesos at a shop close by, on water and snacks for the flight, the evening and the following day.
With purchases crammed into in my bag, I boarded my flight – Goodbye Mexico!
Back to Minneapolis
We landed in Minneapolis. Hooray! Because I would not have any credit cards to prove who I was, or pay for the hotel room, my husband had called and reserved a room for me at a hotel close to the Minneapolis airport. The hotel shuttle transported me from the airport to the hotel, where the woman behind the counter had spoken to my husband earlier in the day! I did have my new Mexican passport, but no credit cards. I checked into my hotel room, after scheduling a shuttle to get me back to the airport the following morning.
My thoughtful husband had also arranged for me to purchase amenities at the hotel front desk, such as food or drinks. I purchased a tv dinner and orange juice. It was the most delicious TV dinner I’d ever eaten, possibly colored by my exhaustion and relief to have made it this far on the journey back home.
I called my husband to verify I’d arrived back in the States. I slept the sleep of someone relieved to have landed back in the Motherland!
