Lost Camera

I am currently on camera number three for my trip. After a lovely hike in the Blue Mountains, I stopped at a tourist Mecca, one aptly titled Scenic World. While there, I stopped to take a photo of a bronze sculpture of the Three Sisters legend, then put on my coat because it was cold. Sometime during this process, my camera was lost. (Note the use of passive voice: It puts the blame on a mystery source, not my own irresponsibility. I learned this from Mr. George Walker Bush.) I realized this startling revelation about 45 minutes later when I returned to my hostel. Upon my discovery, I marched back through the impending night, retracing my steps, head down like Charlie Brown. No avail. Scenic World had no camera turned in, but I left my number hoping somebody would bring it the next day.

I filed a police report the next day and scoured the second hand shops around town, hoping somebody tried to hock it. No luck. So I purchased my third camera with a memory card and case for $360, hurting my New Zealand budget quite a bit. I had thankfully backed up my photos last week in Victoria, so all I lost were my photos of Canberra (hence the childish parliament house drawing). Thankfully, it isn't too picturesque there anyway (see the rationalization at work in real time!), but I did lose a great photo me sitting the speaker's chair, clad in white wig, robes, and aviator sunglasses. I should consider myself lucky though, I've heard many a tale of camera woes on my travels; this nation has a knack for swallowing cameras. One woman I met had gone through five in six months! Losing my camera wasn't crippling, but it was damn annoying.