Matthew's #5: The Camera

What’s the point of insurance if it might not work and you’re probably not going to use it anyway?

This is the question I asked myself as we prepared to leave for our trip and I attempted to navigate the endlessly complex and code like fine print of travel insurance. What I concluded was that, as far as I could understand purchasing insurance may or may not actually cover a stolen camera and either way it was going to be really expensive. So off I went, lovingly cradling the closest thing I had to a child (in terms size, monetary value and emotional attachment) in my arms, my Canon 50D, fingers twitching to take National Geographic quality pictures of foreign and mysterious lands and finally secure my place in the annals of history as a true photographic genius.

Fast forward 4 weeks to a bus from Banos Ecuador. Anna Lee innocently asks for some chap stick and as I go into the backpack to get it I pull out the camera case (the sanctuary of black foam and fabric security that has nurtured my magnesium alloy child throughout the rigors of third world travel) and realize that though it is closed it feels suspiciously light. As I opened the case my heart sank… empty. My first reaction was disbelief. Perhaps the camera had wandered out of its home to explore the rest of the backpack, maybe have a quick chat with the rain coats stuffed in the bottom and I only had to dig a little deeper to find it. This initial reaction was quickly replaced by a deep, guttural anger.  Someone on this bus has my camera and I want it back. Further inspection revealed that not only was my DSLR gone but also Anna Lees small digital camera and her brand new video camera (not to mention my sweet Target Aviator sunglasses). As I stood up and started furiously pacing up and down the bus searching for a target to incinerate with my anger it became obvious just how far from detachment and enlightenment I actually was. After I scared the stuffing out of the poor Ecuadorian farmer in the seat behind me half to death with my spanglish and horrific charades into him showing me the contents of his bag and coat, I was able to calm down a bit and we worked out that the theft had probably happened on the previous bus we had been on that day. Our best guess is that someone sitting behind us had reached under the seat where our backpack was, opened the bag, taken out the camera case and removed the camera, zipped the case back up and put it back into the bag and then refastened the straps and put it back under our seat. Ironically we had anticipated this to some extent and checked the ability to pull bags through the seat in front of us and satisfied ourselves that this was unlikely (obviously our thief was not so easily dissuaded). The rest of the bus ride was obviously not the most cheerful. When I informed the bus driver what had happened he laughed. Another stupid gringo can’t even hold on to his stuff, what else are you going to do but laugh. The eyes of our fellow passengers were sympathetic (a few even came up and as far as I could tell expressed their sympathy) but similarly helpless. We had become just another statistic and there was nothing we or anyone else could do.  

This experience, though relatively minor in the scheme of things (though it added over two grand to the price of our trip…) did unfortunately has cast a significant shadow over my experience on the trip.  I have realized that I am a relatively gullible person and to be honest, this is not something that I particularly want to change. I want to believe in the basic goodness of human beings, I want to go through life unguarded and open to those around me. This is undoubtedly a symptom of a sheltered and relatively privileged white middle class life and certainly not a luxury that much of our world can afford.  I have also realized (once again) that I am a fairly superficial and selfish person and this is something that I would like to change.  Eventually I have been able to see this experience as both an expensive lesson in travel protocol as well as a lesson in detachment (or some high minded mumbo-jumbo like that...). Despite these lessons it has been a major bummer to not be able to capture some of the amazing things we have seen since Banos. I am afraid that the replacement camera we purchased in Cuenca after the theft (a relatively cheap piece of junk in the US is a further slap in the face at twice the retail price) will not produce National Geographic quality photos, it will also reveal my truly mediocre photographic abilities.

Well, enough with the whiny rant, for those of you who have actually read this far, leaving the camera at home, in the case, or getting it pinched actually does have its merits. A week after the camera walked off I woke up in a green valley in the middle of the Cordillia Blanca. As I stepped out of my tent at 5:00AM I was greeted by 6000 meter glaciated peaks surrounding me on every side. With no camera to capture the moment I was forced to just take it in, with no thought of the future or the past, but only to revel in the precious present. And it was cold and it was beautiful.