I wanted Lomo Saltado for breakfast.

We went into a restaurant near the square in Arequipa with a sign that said it was their house breakfast special. We ordered. She said she didn´t have it. Robbed, I say! Robbed of my Lomo . . . we settled on the grilled chicken. It just wasn´t the same.

We wandered into an antique shop because it looked cool . . . Matt sat his backpack down and then walked around in the store.

¨Aren´t you afraid that your pack will get stolen?¨ I asked.

¨No,¨ he said, ¨not even a little bit.¨

So, I didn´t say anything more. But it was a prophetic moment. We bought a couple of postcards, collected his unattended bag and walked on.

After a lovely evening stroll in Arequipa, we needed food. We wandered back into the edge of downtown. I spied a local sole menu restaurant with Lomo written on the sign. We walked in. Again, no Lomo. Damn! Robbed again . . . of my Lomo!

But we were hungry, so we just ordered something else. The restaurant was local – kind of grungy and packed with people. Lots of cars bounced by on the brick-covered colonial streets. Activity buzzed around us in all manner and form. Matt grabbed the water bottle we always keep on hand out of his backpack, which he then sat on the floor next to his leg.

I´m not sure at what point I realized that something was amiss.  I was busy people-watching. There was a cute old man wearing a dirty trucker hat who slurped his soup. Another dude looked like the real-life version of Smithers from the Simpsons. There were people getting up to pay just as a girl sat down right next to me at our table . . . unconsciously, I shifted my own backpack under my legs . . . and that´s when I looked over at a now-empty table that had been occupied by two young men . . . and I don´t really know why, but I suddenly shouted at Matt, ¨Where´s your pack? Where´s your bag?¨

He reached down, but it was already gone. In the shuffle, someone had just picked it up nonchalantly and walked out the door.

It’s a new backpack-stealing scam that I’ve never seen or heard of before. Be aware! Here’s what happened before my bus left the station a couple of days ago.

I was the only gringo on the bus, which is normal. I was sitting patiently in my seat, waiting for the Pisac bus to leave Cusco and was doing what I usually do: people-watching. The bus seats were full and people were beginning to stand in the aisles. Certainly nothing out of the ordinary.

I saw a group of three guys who seemed to know one another – again nothing out of the ordinary. But something seemed amiss. One guy had bloodshot eyes and I noticed that another one was staring at me.  I stared back. The third one had scars on his face. None of them looked all too friendly.

I paused, wondering what their deal was . . . they seemed like they were trying to push their way to the back, which is a little strange, because no one ever does that. Everyone just kind of stands in the ailse near the front of the bus. I turned and began to look out the window.

Suddenly, a lady behind me poked my shoulder. “Tu mochila?” she asked, your backpack? She pointed to the cubbyholes above the bus seats. I still had no idea what was going on.

“No,” I said. “Yo la tengo.” I have it.

Then I realized what had happened, just as the lady began to yell in rapid-fire Spanish to everyone else on the bus. The only thing I caught was, “son tres.” There are three.

But the three mean-looking young men who’d been crowding the bus moments before had vanished. Everyone was checking above them to make sure their belongings were still there. A Peruvian lady with a toddler reached up. “Mi tarjeta!” she cried. My card! The three had stolen her purse with her credit cards inside.

I always, always, always carry my bag around my shoulder. I don’t ever take it off and put it up above while I’m on the bus, mostly because I’m spacey and I would forget later when it came time to get off the bus. I suggest if you carry a backpack, to put it on the floor, between your legs while you ride local busses.

But mostly, just be aware of your belongings for every single second while they are not physically attached to you. And listen to those feelings you may have when something seems amiss. That little voice inside my head told me that something was not right with those three guys. I dismissed it. It was right.