|do NOT GIVE UP (from this person)|
Anyways. Twoooooooo Saturdays ago, J was here and I took her to El Mercado del Puerto. It's a huge old market where near the docks/port/water/bigassboats where they used to buy and sell goods FOB, but is now a turist (albeit DELICIOUS) trap full of restaurants that cook meat RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. They have this special "wine" thing, called Medio y Medio, half wine, half sparkly shit, and it gets you buzzed.
Anyway, I took J there and we went with my Uruguayan bfffffl Emma. Emma is not her real name. We has a delicious lunch and me and J laughed at Emma's stories because she's a hilarious lady. As we walk out of the market, I tell J, in English: "Watch out for your shit, they steal everything around here." Literally dude, cue to a little kid sntching Emma's purse and running away with it. Two of them. I was oblivious, but I reacted quickly.
|classy classy (larepublica.com.uy)|
"What did they take?" I asked.
"Todo." Emma responded with a wounded kitten look on her face.
Forth comes the most badass moment of my life:
"Hold this." I told J, handing her my cigarette and leather jacket. I promptly started running after these little hoodrats. The possibility of a knife or the fact that we were fastly heading into one of the most dangerous areas of the city didn't cross my mind. Finally, I see that they run into an old house, kind of shantytown deal, broken windows, broken doors, a junky standing outside, the whole deal. Out of breath, I suss out:
|fuckas ain't know shit|
"Give me back everything and I wont call the police" Seeing as there is a police station one block away from there, I wanted to strike some sort of fear into their little blackened hearts. See, in Montevideo, there are groups of kids, minors, who rob tourists or oblivious girls of their purses, wallets, whatever, and the police can't do shit. There is no good juvi system here, putting them through a trial is expensive and ineffective. And they can always accuse the police of police brutality. So the security around touristy areas is minimal since law "enforcement" officers choose to stay the fuck away.
|sometimes I like James Franco|
Somehow, though, I got back my friend's purse, sans the money (150 pesos = 7 dollars) and with a broken strap, but her ID and shit were in there. So, happy ending. I was left with a killed buzz and threatening-to-explode lungs. However, my friends (and mom) pointed out that it was a very stupid thing to do, running after thieves. I would have been shot, knifed.
Could I? I don't know. I have these reactions ("you don't act, you react" says my mom) that I sometimes can't help. I had a therapist tell me that these "badass" moments I sometimes have are a way to test my limits, but mostly, a form of self-destruction without the guilt. Which, is, you know, all sorts of correct. I also really enjoy all the compliments and astonishment from my friends that comes with doing shit like that. SOMEBODY NOTICEMEEEE.
Okay, that was my story for today. I have others from my trip with J to Buenos Aires.