By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
Sometimes things are more dangerous than they look. I mean, here I am in the heart of Paris, getting my breakfast around the corner from the print shop, where my friend and I plan to print our tickets for the Catacombs, which I've been waiting to see for nearly five weeks, and the unexpected happens. I am happily drinking my coffee and eating my croissant on the second floor of the cafe St. Paul. For some reason I decide to put my purse on the floor on top of my feet. In a matter of a few split seconds, I look down, and my purse is gone. It's gone! I've been robbed just like that. I start screaming that my purse is gone with all my valuables: wallet, camera, credit cards, passports, and even keys to my apartment. The next few hours seem like a total nightmare because now instead of enjoying the rest of my day, I have to run to the nearest police station and make a report. Im crying and sad. Then, the next few days I have to run around getting my passport restored, cancelling my credit cards, and getting money wired to me. I ponder: who are these people who did this to me? Clearly, as the French police woman said: "They are professionals." I hardly saw anyone, but looking back on that brief period, I remember two short, scruffy looking guys, with baseballs caps, and dark skin standing on either side of me and sitting at the table across. I want to fight back, to chase them, to kick them, but they are long gone and there is nothing I can do. Im in a sour mood for the next few days. In the end, everything is restored and I dont really care about the 260 euros I lost, the only thing that truly hurts is that I lost my digital camera with over a thousand photos on it. To this day, I still only mourn the loss if those beautiful memories.