In this photo taken Wednesday, feb. 21, 2007, Ohio U.S. tourists Clova Adams, receives medical attention because she had a panic attack after one of three masked robbers held a gun against her head during a robbery on a day tour from the Carnival Liberty cruise ship in Limon, Costa Rica. A US veteran who was among the tourists killed one of the robbers. (AP Photo/Roger Amoretty)

I live in Philadelphia, and I expect to get mugged. I’ve resigned myself to a position of indifference, going along with the ebb and flow of the city, hoping for a real solution to Philadelphia’s crime problem.

Next week is spring break. A break from my job, the pile of books I’m reading for class, and the routine that has inevitably developed by mid-semester. Just as important–spring break is a break from Philadelphia. This year’s destination is Costa Rica, the antithesis of this city and its dwindling remnants of snow. But although I’ll be shedding my coat and whatever work ethic I can claim to have, my mindset will remain.

I’ll be in Costa Rica, and I’ll expect to get mugged.

Last year my friends and I spent spring break in the Dominican Republic–dedicating most of our time to Santo Domingo and the beach.

Mugging attempt one: man rolls up beside us, pointing a cylindrical object out of the window and demanding cash. It was obviously not a gun, maybe a tool. We laughed it off.

Mugging attempt two: group of teenagers, in the ecstatic hysteria that is Carnival , attempt to mug us with a knife, no doubt targeting my friend’s expensive camera dangling from his side in typical tourist fashion. I remember hearing a form of a certain verb, matar, a word I then wished wasn’t in my Spanish vocabulary. We successfully fled on foot, camera intact.

I’ve been lucky that violence has avoided me, but I think I’ve romanticized foreign muggings as a result. It’s just part of the experience, I tell myself. It’s a first-hand encounter with the reality of the country I’m visiting. It’s exhilarating.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure my outlook would be different if my experiences ended with a third world hospital. Reason tells me it’s stupid to romanticize: when I’m in another country, I’m a target. I need to watch my back. I was instructed by an experienced traveler that if I wanted to take the bus into Haiti from the Dominican Republic, I would have to remove the logo on my New Balances, to avoid robbery attempts.

I was also told that I’d have to be a moron to go to Haiti.

So next week I’m off to Costa Rica, expecting crime and in a way hoping for it (though only in its nonviolent unsuccessful form). Crime is universal; I’ll have to deal with it no matter where I go.

Still, for some reason I’m not too worried.

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