Passport, check, money, check, phone, check.. The holiday-is-nearly-over sadness is kicking in, and you’ve got to do the final checks to make sure you can still get home safe, just a quick look to check you’re not leaving your flipflops or your favourite bikini (but there might not be room for your newly acquired pool inflatable..) So, you can imagine my surprise when, just 45 minutes before our transfer back to the airport, we realise our little black wallet is missing, later to find out it got stolen. Little black wallet, I hear you say? Surely that can’t be a big deal? Oh but it can, it wasn’t just a ‘big deal’ it was a ‘we wont get home without it’ type of deal.
Let’s go back to the beginning of the story, while I was drinking prosecco by the pool, enjoying our last day of all-inclusive in our Zakyinthos hotel (that we managed to get for VERY cheap!) catching the last few sun rays before it was time to go get our bags ready to leave. We had been cleaver you see, having already packed our stuff, and what we had with us would simply go in our hand luggage that we had with us by the pool! Genius! So, me and my (now ex) partner, were completely unaware of the madness that was going to begin later that evening. We popped back to the luggage hold in the hotel, put our towels in our suitcase and went to wait with the rest of the people getting on our transfer. I was always a pretty anxious traveller, I really liked to make sure everything was in place and double and triple check we still had everything. So, I made my partner show me the little black wallet that had everything important in, he quickly reached into the hand luggage we had had with us by the pool all day and looked up at me, shocked. ‘It’s not in here’ he said, I knew he was teasing cause I always panicked about us getting home.
But he wasn’t joking. It wasn’t there.
I’m talking, passports, driving licenses, bank cards, EHICs, flight details & tickets, transfer tickets, and all the cash we had left over. We literally had NOTHING.
I couldn’t care less about the clothes we had in the suitcases at this point, they didn’t matter at all. I shouted and swore, then swiftly apologised to all the people I had insulted – I don’t ever really lose my temper, but this was an exception. It was nowhere to be seen, (we later realised it had been stolen) by this point we had enrolled help from the staff who were on their hands and feet around the hotel, trying to help us find it. An hour, went by, we had missed our transfer by this point, then it reached the point where even if we got to the airport, it would be too late to board the flight. We had no money on us, no bank cards, nothing, all had been taken. We had to call home, and ask our parents to pay over the phone via credit card for a room to stay in for the night – they weren’t very impressed, especially when getting a room that night was almost as much as our 7 night stay! However, we worked out if we had the night we could spend it figuring out what to do.
The Next Day
The next day we were up and out super early, and asked the front desk to call us a taxi – we could get money out from a western union on the way from our parents (or so we thought) to pay for our taxi before we got dropped off. WE had figured out we needed to go to the police station first to file a stolen report for our insurance (we needed someway to repay the debt we had got ourselves into back home!) and our taxi driver finally dropped us off very abruptly after three failed western union visits – we couldn’t get money out as we had no ID (Duh!? Didn’t think of that one did we…). We finally got to the police station, but they were on their lunch break… obviously.
This whole thing was such a farce – once we had found out the police station was on their lunch, we hurried to the British Consulate. There was a lovely woman who we had spoken too on the phone earlier that morning who explained how everything would work to us. We needed a passport photo, the police report, a credit card and we had to book flights. All seemed fine – until she explained everything but the flights needed to be payed in cash. How. How were we supposed to do all this, wait two hours EACH for the emergency passports to be created AND THEN get to the only flight back to England that day (not even to an airport near us!) that was leaving in 6 hours. Basically we ran around Zakynthos centre like a couple of mad people, trying all the ways we possibly could to get cash, police statements, pictures and the lot.
Why Was Getting Everything Stolen The Best Thing That Could Of Happened To Me?
Finally though, we managed it. We landed home, and I thought, actually, that was the best thing that could of happened to me. Why? Because I was an extremely nervous traveller up until then, I was always worried about worst case scenarios and the stories from the news you would hear of people stranded. But, I’d done it, I’d got through one of the worst things that cant happen (besides injury), and I was okay! I was safe, I was well, and yes I owed a couple of hundred to my folks, but to me, it was worth it, to not feel anxiousness about travelling like that again. So here I am now, planning a round the world trip, for a whole YEAR! Not something I would ever think I would be doing, but it’s little mishaps & ‘Oops’ moments like these that help us to shape who we are, and I wouldn’t of changed it for the world.
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