After years of travel, including many solo trips, I experienced something every traveller dreads: I was robbed. I will preface this by saying that as I lost only my phone mine was a fairly tame encounter, but it was nevertheless a blemish on an otherwise perfect trip – and one I hope fellow travellers can learn from as I did.
It happened one beautiful July day in Marseille, in the south of France. I was travelling on a budget, so had just finished eating dinner in the hostel when I went to the sink to wash my plate. As I was doing so a man came in looking agitated, opening and closing draws apparently looking for something, which I thought little of in the moment.
I returned to my seat thinking I would end my lovely day with a walk and an ice cream when I realised my phone, which I had left charging on my seat (something I would have strongly advised against even before, but ignored with the too-human notion that it would never happen to me) was gone.
I hesitated for a split second before realising it had to be the on-edge man, piecing together what I knew about how professional hostel thieves work with my own experience from working in just such an accommodation provider. I ran outside but even as I did I knew it was too late. The M.O. of such thieves is to get in, grab as many inconspicuous technological items as they can, and get out.
The first thought was how alone I felt. Despite having my laptop, being without a phone significantly decreased my ability to communicate, and all I wanted to do was call my friends and boyfriend in London to cry. My second thought was the photos. I had just spent a glorious day exploring the countryside around Provence in search of lavender fields, which themselves were the main purpose behind my visit to the area. Everything on my SLR camera was safe, but the quick snapshots, selfies and panoramas taken on my phone were just as precious.
I went to the guy at reception to inform him what had happened. I had travel insurance – and was thanking the Australian government’s long-proffered expression ‘if you can’t afford travel insurance, you can’t afford to travel’ for that – and I knew to make a claim I would need proof in the form of a police statement.
I politely informed the receptionist that my phone was just taken in the kitchen, to which he responded not with sympathy, but with anger. His answer of ‘You are responsible for your own belongings’ did not exactly help abate the feeling of being in a foreign country, knowing I had to deal with this alone and that it was far from over yet.
I would have liked to burst into tears, or terrify him with a furious tirade, but knew I needed his help as he was the local, so instead I calmly informed him all I wanted his assistance with was what to do next – while making a mental note that I would not hold this information back in my review of the hostel. He told me where the police station was, and after a quick chat on my laptop with some friends who provided just the moral support I needed and had no way of getting from anyone around me at that point, I went to the station.
Upon arriving there I found that the station was closed, so I had to return in the morning.
That night I was terrified lying in bed, sleeping with all my most precious belongings under the sheets next to me. Every noise woke me and I felt completely on edge – it is remarkable how shaken I was even by such a non-confrontational experience. One thing that helped enormously was the girls in my dorm room, who, by some miracle, were all also solo travellers completely sympathetic to the experience. One of the girls and I made plans the next morning to meet up after I visited the police station.
I was there soon after the doors opened, but there was still quite a wait. Finally, I was called into a room with a female police officer. She was exceptional. Though they had tried there was no one available who spoke English, so I had to tell a disjointed story with lots of hand gestures and sketching on paper in a kind of gloomy game of Pictionary.
I told her I knew there was no chance of getting the phone back – all I needed was the report. I must admit I was afraid the insurer would blame me as there is no denying I had turned my back on the phone, but it was genuinely for less than a minute, even 30 seconds, and I made it clear in the report that I was only a matter of a few metres away, in the very same room. Finally, with the report filed, I left the station to meet my new dormmate Dani, and as we spent a perfect day exploring Marseille I began to feel much better.
Upon returning to London I filed the report with my insurer and, after a few follow-up questions, had no trouble obtaining the claim that would go toward a new phone. And later, scrolling through my cloud storage, I found the pictures I thought I had lost.
As I had the automatic syncing function set up with my phone’s camera roll, the precious pictures had uploaded before the thief struck, and in the end all I gained were some valuable lessons I now share you with you, dear traveller friends:
1.Do not, even for a second, even if you feel completely at ease and safe in your environment, turn your back on valuable belongings – especially those that are easy to conceal and carry away.
2. Make sure your pictures are set up to automatically sync to the cloud.
3. Purchase travel insurance! And be ready for some tedious hours to make your claim.
4. If you are alone, find some fellow solo travellers and talk to them – in my experience they can work miracles in turning the negative experience around.
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Courtney Gahan is a serial expat, traveller and freelance writer who has bartered with Moroccan marketeers, seen the sun rise at Angkor Wat and elbowed her way through crowds on NYE in NYC
