So, after 1,158 days (or 3 years, 2 months, and 2 days) of living in Guatemala, I finally had my bag slit in the Antigua market. I was pretty much the only person I knew (Guatemalan or American who lives here) who hadn't had it happen; so I consider it to be a right of passage of sorts. The would-be thief cut through three layers of my bag but didn't manage to find anything worth stealing. Joke's on them, but I'm the one left with a bag to repair. *sigh*
I guess the bright side is that I was carrying my recent purchases of flour and oatmeal in my hand. If I had put them in my backpack as I typically do, I might have made a nice little white trail behind me through the market...and arrived home without any more flour than I woke up with.