Yes, I trust the world. Back home, I don’t lock my car, don’t even have a key to my house, and leave valuable items in plain view at my desk at school, anything from cases of Girl Scout cookies to my Smartphone. My general attitude about life is, most people can be trusted, and would rather not deal with the hassle of stealing. And overall, most people are good.

Constantly I’m admonished for this. “But what if…” fill in the blank with horror stories. It’s all I ever hear. Horror stories from personal experiences, media tales, and the like. “All it takes is one person,” I often hear. It’s true. All it takes is one person to be a shithead and steal my stuff, or to be psychotic and kidnap and murder a ten-year-old girl, but how many millions of us are there? I mean, BILLIONS? Do we need to constantly think that we will cross paths with these horror stories?

The ironic thing is, I have actually had things stolen from me. I had two bicycle tires stolen right off my bike when I was in high school. The bike was locked, but the tires weren’t. Right during the middle of the school day even! And our house in Denver, when I was fifteen, was broken into one night while we were gone, and many items were stolen, most importantly the charm bracelets whose charms my sister and I had collected each year at Christmas (such a bullshit thing to steal, not even worth much!). When I think back to both of those incidents in my life, things were not good for me or my family. We were having many problems, and sending out endless negative vibes.

So why do I still trust people? Why do I always think, It’s not going to happen to me? Because ever since I put that thought in my head, it doesn’t. I truly believe that there is some truth in positive thinking, sending thoughts out into the universe, and expecting that things are going to be OK, only to discover that… well, yes, they are going to be OK. I mean, look where I am! I had the rug pulled out from under me two weeks before the school year started in America, and I gave up the chance at a huge salary increase, full benefits, and living like kings in an apartment complex with a pool cheaper than our mortgage, to come to Spain for a salary that’s not even enough to pay for one person’s living expenses, let alone five. But here we are. I trusted in the world, and the world helped me out, giving me a salary comfortable enough for us to live on and enjoy this country.

But that’s not all. Due to the financial crisis, and perhaps the culture here, I have been forewarned by all about the epidemic of thievery. By more than a few people, I was forewarned to not even bring the bicycle, as it would surely be taken, my U-lock no match for the bolt cutters they would have here, that we wouldn’t even be able to leave the bike outside a store while we shopped!

As usual, I decided to go against the grain and bring it anyway (I was already breaking every other sane person’s rules anyway). I brought the bike, and I do lock it everywhere, but I consistently leave the helmet and saddlebag still attached. Everyone has told me to stop doing this, that these items will be stolen, but I just have to disagree.

I was planning on seeing gypsies everywhere I went. Not because I’ve seen a series of ridiculous movies, but because my Spaniards told me this is what I should expect, especially “in this region.” Well I don’t know what a gypsy even looks like, or how sneakily they can creep up and slit open your purse (again, others’ horror stories!), but the only time anyone in Cartagena has approached my Camelbak? It was on the street, yes. I was walking between tutoring appointments and a lady came up behind me and told me my backpack was partially unzipped, and she zipped it up for me!

See what I mean people?

But yesterday takes the cake. We have this little thing called a debit card with every penny of thousands of dollars we brought from America attached to it. I was being a responsible parent and went to the bank yesterday to DEPOSIT money into our account so we could pay the light bill (everything in Spain is completed via direct bank transfer). Well, I somehow forgot to retrieve my card from the ATM, and didn’t notice until about six hours later.

I know, I know… I can hear all the people screaming at me! “What if??”

But that’s just it. In almost the same moment that I noticed my card was missing, I noticed a voice mail on my phone. The lady in the bank had my card and was keeping it safe for me. Of course.

This is not luck. This is not a coincidence. While I have been surrounded by people I know always feeding me horror stories, I have managed to escape almost every tragic moment imaginable. No one has ever smashed a window in my car to take my purse, or steal the iPod I left sitting on the dash, with the keys to the car sitting right next to it (yes, I do that too). Yet these things seem to happen to everyone I know. Why? Because they’re so fucking afraid that they’re going to happen!

I really believe there is some truth to that. Yesterday, when I discovered my card was gone, I called Bruce and told him to check the account. Then I went on with my life and tutored a girl for an hour, not even thinking about it, and Bruce sent a text saying nothing was charged on the account, and did he want me to have him cancel the card? I told him not to. I wasn’t the least bit surprised. It was only a brief panic when I lost the card, not a “the world is ending now” crisis. I knew that everything would be OK, as always, because I trust the world, and the world trusts me, and my place here in it, no matter whose soil I place my trust in.