I mentioned in my previous post that my trip to Malaysia was a positive experience except for a couple of instances. This was one of them. As you read, keep score.
I was wandering around the Malaysian city of Ipoh when I began to feel somewhat hot and tired. Luckily for me, I encountered a grassy area near the river which had many park benches. I decided to stop and relax.
Suddenly, my repose was interrupted by someone snatching my bag! Before I knew what had happened, I was up and running after the thief. Some primitive part of my brain took over and demanded that I claim my territory and fight for it. As I ran, I also shouted. The bag-snatcher ran down a steep embankment toward the river and fell. I thought that would be my chance to catch him—but alas, I fell in the same spot. To get away from me, he decided to jump into the river and cross to the other bank. Although I did not pursue him into the river (that would have been stupid—none of my valuables were in the bag and the river was nasty) I kept shouting. On the other side, several men who heard my yells took up my cause and soon the cowardly thief abandoned my bag and slipped underneath a chain-link fence.
I stopped yelling and turned to find that I had drawn a crowd of 10-20 onlookers. Some of them accompanied me to the bridge where I received my now-soaking and muddy bag from the men who recovered it. Although some people in the crowd suggested I ought to file a police report, I decided that would be a pointless endeavor. Instead, I set off across the street to find a place to clean off my bag. I was pointed toward an Indian restaurant.
The Indian restaurant had no sink in their restroom, but when I explained what I wanted they let me into their kitchen to use the sink. I discovered my phone was in the bag, which upset me (however, since then it dried out). But the part that upset me the most was that my journal was in the bag. Although it has dried out, and I’m using it again, some of the ink ran and is no longer legible.
The people at the restaurant were extremely kind. After I finished attempting to clean my bag, they offered me a drink. I explained what had happened again, and one of the patrons took a great interest. He asked if I needed medical attention and bought me another tea. I ended up sitting at the restaurant for quite a while to calm my nerves. In that time, the owner gave me lunch and refused to accept my money.
One person ruined my belief of the general goodness of humanity, and seemingly everyone else in Ipoh did something toward restoring it.
For those keeping score at home, tell me who came out ahead, me or the thief?
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