God has it in for me.

These past two days have been bad. By bad, I mean EPIC BAD DAY.

Yesterday, I went shopping. I looked out the window, saw it was raining (like always), considered not going, but thought to myself, "No, Allison. You need to go. You're in Spain. It's always going to rain, you can't spend your time here waiting for weather to clear up. GO!" You know how people say to listen to what your inner conscience is telling you? Well, I smothered mine, duct taped its mouth, and merrily continued on my way.

I had a successful evening of power shopping and stopped at my friend Jen's place to leave my bags before going out to eat. It was then that I noticed my pocket where I keep my wallet felt disconcertingly light. And empty. I began a frantic search of all of my bags, Jen's room, the stairwell, but nothing appeared. My trusty friend Katie Cook headed back outside with me to retrace our steps, going to every store we visited previously.

It's at this time that I would like to mention that apparently a hurricane was forming off the coast. While my city isn't close to the ocean, it's close enough that the weather is severely affected. What this meant to me was during my hour long scouring of the city, gale force winds were thrashing my coat against my legs and neck, roofing tiles were crashing down onto the street around me, and my umbrella, my poor poor umbrella, sucuumbed to the wind in a tangled, tortured mess.

So, now I'm in the middle of a hurricane-like rainstorm, umbrella-less, and have not found my wallet with all of my credit cards and drivers license inside. I am told I need to go to the police station to make a report.

Good 'ol Katie and I valiently stumble off into the darkness again, to find the police station. We arrive, looking the very picture of someone who's just been robbed: eyes frantic, hair plastered haphazardly across my face, gasping out broken Spanish. They tell me I need my passport. I don't have my passport with me. It's warm and dry in my house 15 minutes away. DAMNIT.

We go home, order pizza, collapse.

The next day, I wake up sweaty and aching. SURPRISE!! I have a fever, possibly from wandering for hours in a rainstorm! But, I still have to go to the stupid ass police station.

Katie drags my lifeless corpse to the station, where I have the pleasure of filing a police report completely in Spanish. This would be scary in English. Also, sidenote, apparently all of the good looking young men of Santiago work for the police force. In addition, there's not a lot of crime, so they had nothing better to do than lurk around, listening to the feverish american girl spluttering in Spanish about her little red wallet. How fun for me.

That was my last two days. I'm exhausted now. Going to go back to bed. But, for the record, despite being robbed, running around in a hurricane, losing my umbrella and my mind, catching a fever, and having a police record in Spain, I'm still glad I came!