18/12/2006 The last time I got robbed, I shed some tears because I lost all the HiRes files of 1,5 years worth of (digital) pictures.
This time I was shocked at first, then gave in to the absurdity of more than one moment.

For example when I realized they also took my 3 our 4 Euros worth of copper change,
the 2 and 5cts.

For example when the two geniuses of the investigating team
-who came by two consecutive days because so did the robbers-
advised me to call the guardia 'when I heard something' the next night.
So there I was this next night,
no wind, just me and acres of hill land,
total silence
apart from the occasional rat trying to get in -I'm sleeping in a room with 400 kilo horse food,
apart from the occasional horse or pony moving real close the house
apart from the occasional bird landing on the roof -the estrecho is a major bird migration spot-
apart from the lights suddenly shining from outside into the house not long before dawn.
I'd love to see a print from my heart rate that night,
steep curving!

If I am to believe my heart, those lights weren't part of a dream,
it was 'them' checking for a third raid,
but they probably guessed I was inside because two windows were open.
'Them' being very probably local youth,
coming from those three blocks nearby.

Last year the two houses remained unoccupied for several months,
making them an excellent place for a 'botellon', near the city but still pretty desolate.
And the windows are the kind that open just looking at them,
they are really meant to be protected by steel grills,
like every house has down here.
But somehow the Dutch owner preferred his romantic ideal,
even after the botellon warning.

So last Wednesday 'they' came and robbed.
My housemate found the two houses in disarray at night,
freaked out, called her boyfriend and on they went to the local police,
who sent them to the guardia civil where they stated their declaration,
to go back to the local police who then copied the statement.
The next day at noon the investigation team appeared,
dusting for fingerprints.
Between their departure and my return at night,
the houses were broken into again!
This time I had the privilege of going through the cycle myself: guardia civil, local police, investigating team.
Here's what I learned:
-to get enlisted in the guardia you need a broad chest
-to get enlisted in the local police force you just need to apply
-to get enlisted in the investigative branch of the guardia civil, belly size is more apropriate than lung volume and you probably would have to pass some testing of your analytic and observing skills,
but
you should still be able to investigate a crime scene twice,
yet fail to see the aluminium housed hard disk lying in plain view near the house at 1 meter from the bottles you're checking for fingerprints.
But hey, these were nice guys, they weren't just technical but human about what happened.

Reading my second Paulo Coelho and all,
it is time to get philosophical about this.
Let's see,
'what happens when you loose everything
you start all over again' (Maximö Park)

Here's another laugh.
I spent three years living more than half of the time in a van,
parking in 'bad' cities such as Sevilla, Cordoba, Barcelona and in tourist area's along the mediterranean,
not one scratch -I was lucky once to lie inside though, in France at the Easter weekend.
I spent three months in a caravan and an abandoned van, nothing happened.
But after twee weeks in a small house: bingo.

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© photo Peter Mertens