Badlanders MCC Website

Its been a few days since I updated the BLOG, and I can honestly say that this is the least enjoyable BLOG entry I’ve written. It involves me being robbed of my passport, all my money, bank and credit cards, travellers cheques, mobile phone, a book full of details and contacts I’ve made over the last few weeks and a number of other essential items including my computer charger, favourite eating utensil and brand new light for my bike, my road map, dictionary ( my closest friend out here) and...... spending and uncomfortable night in a police cell.

I’ve met some great people over the last few weeks both during Silvano’s visit and after it, but this most recent incident was serious enough to merit a chronological jumping of the queue, as I’m sure you’ll understand.

After getting back into Mendoza , I stopped over in the Lao hostal in Mendoza for a couple of days. I passed this when I was staying at one of the hotels closeby a couple of weeks ago, and thought it looked intriguing. Simple from the front, but opens into a Laotian paradise. It is a really great laid back place and I met a group of people from England, Ireland, Germany, Sweden, Scotland, Belgium, America and Australia. Its owned by Michael from Derby and his wife Celeste, who, with their staff, do a great job of making people feel welcome and relaxed.

I left on the 30^th August to continue my journey up Ruta 40, firstly heading for San Juan, hoping I’d have some chance of getting through a large part of Bolivia by the end of September. It was the hottest day I have cycled, jumping from 12 degrees when I reached Santiago to 30 degrees, with bright sunshine. For the first time, I was in shorts and a tee shirt.

Things were going well and I’d clocked up about 45 miles by 3pm, when I had to answer the call of nature. I was in the middle of nowhere and the sun was beating down. I parked the bike next to a big tree and walked about 50 metres into some bushes. Though I rarely ever let my camelbak (backpack) out of my sight, I’d just filled it with water and laid it next to my bike. When I returned a few minutes later, there was no bag.

It could only have been picked up by a passing car, which must have slowed and quickly sped off with my bag even though the bike was still within sight. I could not believe it, but more importantly could not believe that for the first time ever, it had all of my valuables, as I wasn’t wearing my softshell jacket, which is where I normally keep my wallet. I assumed that whoever stole it might have removed the money from the wallet and emptied the money belt of the travellers cheques and 200 US dollars. I cycled frantically both up and down the road, whilst also attempting to wave down traffic. I think I did about five miles in 40 minutes, but saw nothing, and....no-one would stop. Finally a guy and his wife with in Mercedes van full of wine stopped and I was able to communicate well enough for him to call the police and inform them of my plight. After giving me most of the contents of a 2litre bottle of Pomelo (which I demolished through raging thirst), he advised me to head back towards Mendoza and a police car would be coming to meet me.

Sure enough, about half a mile down the road, this police car was coming towards me and stopped. He started questioning me in Spanish. I explained what had happened, despite the obvious language barrier. He then asked me if I had a copy of my ID, which I pleased to say was in the trailer. I gave him a copy of my Passport and he called in to headquarters. He then started asking me if I’d lost my phone, how come I was able to call the police. I explained that it wasn’t me, but a guy that stopped some way down the road, in my best Spanish of course. He looked at me in that really suspiscious manner head rasied, eyebrows rasied. After that, he helped me put the bike on the jeep and drove off in the San Juan direction. I was of course thanking this guy for his assistance and whilst looking at the side of the road, I explained that it was important that I called banks and credit card companies to cancel my cards ( muy importante para me telephone bancos y tarjeta de credito para cancellar) Not great I know, but it got the message over. He then looked at me and said....” Quanta dinero?” I took the two peso note out of my pocket and said “solo”. Tambien telephone mis esposa para dinero. At that he drew into the side of the road and started to explain in Spanish that I should ask my wife to transfer money to his “accuenta” and that he would give me the money. He asked quanto? I immediately realised that I was in a sticky situation and said....”no intienda” He said “quanto para usted, quanto la plata para me”. Though it was very tempting to say screw you, you corrupt bastard, I had no money, no cards, no passport, barely any water and was in no position to bargain. Being dumped at the side of the road would have been difficult and given the reluctance of cars to stop, presumably for the very obvious fear of robbery, I would have been stranded. I explained that maximum I’d get would be 1000 pesos and said I could give him 200 pesos to cover the cost of the call. He shook his head and said 400 peso. Reluctantly I agreed and he gave me his phone and his account number.

He continued along the road, and I called home. I could not get through, which was a relief, but he moved to a better reception area and stopped. When I called, my mother answered. Not wishing to worry her, I asked if Silvano was there. No she was at a friends. I said, ok Mum ( who was clearly worried and asked if everything was ok). I said all ok but I needed to speak to her, could she get our friends number and I’d call her back. He looked at me again with raised eyebrows. I explained. Me espousa no en la casa. Diez minutes, retournes la hjamar

As I was calling we arrived at a police contol point on the San Juan provincial border. Another policeman came out and he looked very uncomfortable with the situation, but wasn’t going to disagree with his colleague. I spoke to Silvano explaining that I’d been robbed, was standing with a corrupt copper and needed her to transfer money into his account. You can imagine the response I got. He was still gabbling on to me in Spanish and explaining his bank and number. I said that the account number was not enough....”nefesito dos numeros”. He looked at me perplexed. The other copper who understood some basic English tried to explain that I needed more information to transfer the money. I explained it was now late on Saturday and tomorrow was Sunday so it would be difficult to get money at this point, explaining again that i must call up my phone company, my bank and credit card companies. As he started to remove my bike from the back of the jeep, he said, “ La plata en me accuento, usted a Mendoza”. He dropped my bike and trailer off and left. I was waiting as was the other copper for him to return in a couple of hours, but he didn’t. I had a fair idea that there would be no chance of any money transferring, but I now didn’t have any form of communication and the policeman left in the station was not about to use his radio to talk to anyone else. In any event, it seemed that someone else was in on the whole thing as someone else other than the bent copper came over the radio to say “no depositar”. It all seemed a little strange.

The contol point was interesting. Two cells, a kitchen bathroom front office and a rest room with a tv. Initially I was allowed to sit and watch tv and he even made a tea for me, explaining “no possible en chile” By the time it reached 10.30 pm, I was getting impatient and explaining “ muy importante para me telephone mis banco para cancellar me tarjetas de credito y cellular” He said ... “claro, claro, no problemo” It clearly was, and he sensed it was a problem. I asked, “esta possible para autobus au taxi”. “No possible” he said. He then explained that he had to go out to do some work and that I’d need to go into this cell. He pulled through a rather soiled foam “mattress” and laid it on the concrete bench. He wrapped up a towel and put it on the bed, patting it as if to give the impression, luxury! He invited me to go in and I have to admit, I was now starting to wonder what to do. Everything went through my head at that stage, including the possibility of drugs being put in my panniers, so I asked to take them through into the cell with me. He said, “ no nefesito”, and ushered me in. He pulled the TV out of the policeman’s rest room and put it in the corridor. I couldn’t really see it but it was loud enough to make sure I could hear and couldn’t get to sleep. This was the moment when everything started to go through my mind, and I honestly thought that this was going to get much worse. I looked at the ceiling and thought that it would probably have been better to take my chances without money or water in the fields.

At about 3 am, I heard him come back in and he came over to say “ la plata no depositar”. I responded by saying “mas importante para me tengo la telephone, aqui, ahora.” “No possible transferor dinero, much importante me hablar me esposa” “NOW, DO YOU HEAR”......in English. He started to make small talk in his limited English and explained that he had four children and asked me how much a policeman earned in Scotland. policia en escocia, quantos para anos? By this time I couldn’t be arsed answering him and said no intiendo, though he clearly knew I could understand. I think the anger helped, because despite the noise of the generator and TV, I was by this time shattered and fell asleep. It was about 4am and I woke at 7.30. the cell was open and I walked out and immediately started to check my panniers transferring what I thought I might need if i decided to make a move to catch a bus when it crossed the control point.

He explained that he was about to leave, “bicicletta en la auto” I removed the wheels and helped him put the bike and trailer in his car. At this point another policeman arrived presumably to take over, clearly also uncomfortable with the situation, and soon we were off... on the way to Mendoza in a car with no seat belts, diesel fumes coming into the car, and no speedo. “Donde va?” I asked. He explained that we were going to Mendoza to speak to a detectivo. I asked if I could stop at Hostal Lao and the Sheraton. Hostal Lao to speak to my friend and unload my bike and the Sheraton to see if they would let me call home. He agreed and I was relieved when I arrived at the door of the Hostal Lao, to be greeted by the owner, Mike. Mike looked at the policeman and me and immediately put his arm over my shoulder. He started to speak to the copper in Spanish and the copper explained the situation. As we started to bring the bike in I explained the situation with the copper and the fact that I had no money and he wanted me to transfer money to his account. Mike explained trying not to offend the copper in front of me, that that wasn’t a good idea. I explained that I knew that, but it preserved me for a night....just! He said he would buy me a phone card so that I could make essential calls and said that he’d sort out a bed for when I got back from the police station. I thanked him, he could see I was pretty pissed off and absolutely knackered. I then headed off with policeman to file a report at the police station. En route I asked if he would stop at the Sheraton where Silvano and I stayed when she was over and he agreed. I walked in and the fantastic Paulo, was at the reception. She also sensed a problem, not surprisingly, as I walked in with a copper. She said “Hello Mr Dunbar, is there a problem?”. “Yes” I said, “I’ve been robbed and have lost all money, etc. I wonder whether it would be possible to call home”. She took the number and put me through to Silvano who was relieved to hear that I’d made it back to Mendoza. I then went to the police station to file a report. The police officer and administrative staff there were fantastic, so you cannot tar them all with the same brush.

So on this occasion, I witnessed inhumanity in action....in the form of a robber and a policeman ( was there a difference?, I hear you say), but in Mike and Celeste at Hostal Lao and Paulo at the Sheraton, total humanity in action. Mike and Celeste sorted me out with a room, dealt with frantic calls from home and gave me money so that I could survive until I could get some transferred.

This entry has been hurried as I now need to take a night bus to Buenos Aires to try and get a new passport and some money

It was never going to be plain sailing, but this one tested the mettle!