Street crime in St. Petersburg, Russia

Who are the players here? Spot the mark. How many pickpockets do you see?

Who are the players here? Spot the mark. How many pickpockets do you see?

Prowling and preying with impunity, the pickpocket pair cared little about hiding their business. Yet none of the mighty swirling masses intent on going this way or that, paid them the least attention.

The thieves appeared aimless at first: bouncing around the intersection, crossing and recrossing the street, pausing to look into a window, only to turn and go back the way they’d just come. To anyone glancing at them, they blended into the crowd without suspicion.

Bob and I locked onto them the moment they appeared in front of us. (I’ll tell you why in the next post.) To watch the team’s activity for more than a minute is to understand their motive.

Bob Arno on the Canal Griboyedova bridge in front of the Metro station. In the background is the spectacular Church on the Spilled Blood.

Bob Arno on the Canal Griboyedova bridge in front of the Metro station. In the background is the spectacular Church on the Spilled Blood.

We happened to be in St. Petersburg, Russia, but it could have been anywhere. The location was perfect, and well-known to us from past thiefhunting exploits: on Nevsky Prospekt, the main drag, outside the area’s only Metro station. A very busy corner, human traffic ebbs and flows to the beat of the traffic lights and the comings and goings of underground trains.

A variety of police seem to patrol the area sporadically, strolling along in pairs, stopping briefly outside the Metro station doors. They have no apparent effect on the thieves we happened to be observing.

In years past, we’ve seen certain pickpockets operating day after day, month after month. Locals and expats come to recognize them, as of course the police do.

Now locals tell us they see and hear of fewer thieves on the streets. Rather, the pickpockets prefer to work inside the Metro. Tour guides told us the thieves are more prevalent now inside the museums, in the Hermitage, and on the Navy ship Aurora; in other words, where the crowds are, where the tourists are.

Our observant friend who works at the art market on Nevsky Prospekt says the thieves stay on the move, never pausing. Indeed, that’s what we observed as we followed this brazen pair.

Always in motion, the pickpocket pair hops a bus only to get off at the next stop and walk back.

Always in motion, the pickpocket pair hops a bus only to get off at the next stop and walk back.

After they’d zigzagged around the area for about twenty minutes, halfheartedly hunting, I followed them down the street where they hopped onto a rather empty bus. If stealing aboard were their intent, they’d have waited for a crowded bus. In this case, they got on the bus simply to be transported away.

When they’d gone, I went back to my post outside the Canal Griboyedova Metro station. Sure enough, after ten minutes or so, the pair came sauntering back to the corner. This time they locked onto a mark, a stooped geezer whose shoulder bag dangled behind him.

The map-wielding pickpocket is behind the mark. The other thief is on the old man's left. (You can see his striped sleeve.)

The map-wielding pickpocket is behind the mark. The other thief is on the old man's left. (You can see his striped sleeve.)

The two trailed the old man as he meandered, staying behind him, one to the left, one to the right. The mark moved erratically and paused often: to look in a window, to cross the street, to gaze along the canal toward the magnificent Church on the Spilled Blood. Each time the thieves got close behind him, they’d get into theft position: one of them would unfold a map and use it to shield the view.

The problem was, they were a team of only two. They lacked the vital third member, the blocker. A blocker would have stopped short in front of the mark, forcing him to stand still for a moment—just long enough for the pickpocket to do his thing. A proper pickpocket crew of at least three individuals choreographs its moves like a Russian ballet.

Without a blocker, the pair couldn’t control their mark. They had to rely on natural reasons for him to pause. Alternatively, they could try to work in motion, which is much more difficult.

Oblivious victim (yellow) and the pickpocket pair (red), with map-prop open, ready to make their hit.

Oblivious victim (yellow) and the pickpocket pair (red), with map-prop open, ready to make their hit.

Finally, that’s exactly what they did. I was behind the thieves when they went for the pocket—not the hanging bag. Bob was some 20 yards in front of the threesome, but got a good shot with his new Sony NEX-VG10 video camera, thanks to its powerful long lens and stabilization.

All three are in motion among a crowd. The extraction took only a second.

All three are in motion among a crowd. The extraction took only a second.

In Bob’s footage, we see everything. The thieves’ great concentration, a hand in the pocket, the partner’s readiness. Then the extraction, the unfurling of the stolen handkerchief, the smooth passing of it to the partner. And through it all, the unsuspecting victim shuffles on.

Something heavy, perhaps a wallet, can still be seen in the victim's trouser pocket.

Something heavy, perhaps a wallet, can still be seen in the victim's trouser pocket.

The thieves weren’t fazed by their lousy haul. They stayed right on their prey, attempting another hit on the same pocket. They must have seen or felt the weight of something hefty inside (by “fanning“), and it was clear that their victim was oblivious to them. So was all of mankind, as far as they were concerned. They operated as if invisible to the world.

Or as if they’d paid for the privilege of haunting this stretch of Nevsky Prospekt for this time period. We’d been told more than once over the past 13 years that pickpockets pay police for permission to work at a specific time and place. We have not confirmed that this system is still in effect but… old ways change slowly, if you know what I mean.

Cagey thief not fond of being photographed hides his face then peeks: "still watching me?"

Cagey thief not fond of being photographed hides his face then peeks: "still watching me?"

On previous thiefhunting expeditions in Russia, we’ve used hidden cameras, or at least unnoticeable ones. This time, Bob’s bulky Sony, held up to his eye and aimed directly at our quarry, made his interest obvious. One of the pair noticed and, when he crossed in front of Bob, hid his face with his jacket. Then he peeked: still filming?

Pickpocket victim

The victim eventually wandered off and stood on the canal bridge until the pickpockets gave up on him. Still unaware of his followers, he trudged back down the block to the bus stop and sat on the bench. Perhaps he was aware of something amiss, because he began an inventory of his belongings, starting with his wallet, taken from the same pocket the handkerchief had been stolen from. Did he notice the handkerchief was gone? Was there something else stolen that we didn’t catch?

© Copyright 2008-2011 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

More on pickpockets in Russia:
Russian Rip-off: pickpockets and thugs

Bolshoi Bandits: more pickpockets in Russia

How pickpockets use razor blades

Unrelated posts:

Street crime in Mumbai

In 2001, we spoke to this pickpocket in Mumbai, who'd been beaten by his victim.

In 2001, we spoke to this pickpocket in Mumbai, who'd been beaten by his victim.

While pickpocketing and bag snatching are said to be fairly common in Mumbai, Bob and I feel a visitor is less likely to become a victim there than in certain European cities.

Unless, that is, the visitor uses public transportation, where thieves practice all the common strategies plus a few creative twists of their own.

And unless the visitor happens to be robbed by snatch-and-grabbers on scooters, a nasty crime on the increase.

And unless the visitor experiences the human-leg-clamp robbery as experienced by our friend Paul McFarland just one year ago.

Otherwise, most victims of diversion theft are local commuters.

Mumbai police watch Bob Arno's video of pickpockets around the world.

Mumbai police watch Bob Arno's video of pickpockets around the world.

When we asked about pickpockets, a few Mumbai police officers tried the “good PR” approach. “We don’t have much pickpocketing,” they told us. “Mumbai is very safe. You can walk anywhere day or night. Married women wear mangalsutras, necklaces of pure gold. They are not afraid to wear them anywhere,” the cops said. Yet, the next day’s newspaper reported “man caught and beaten by witnesses after snatching a woman’s mangalsutra.” If witnesses are taking care of thieves on the spot, perhaps the police aren’t aware of the crimes?

We’d interviewed a pickpocket in Mumbai PD custody back in 2001. [Story coming soon.] He was trundled to us slumped in a wheelchair with a broken leg and broken ribs. Caught by his victim on a train, he’d been beaten to a pulp. That’s the way it’s done here, we’d been told.

Now Assistant Police Inspector Subhash Borate suggested that many Mumbai thieves suffer from drug addictions. He described a few local M.O.s:

A small part of the gorgeous Victoria Terminus train station in Mumbai, now called the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus.

A small part of the gorgeous Victoria Terminus train station in Mumbai, now called the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus.

A long hook is fashioned from a steel bar. Thieves stand with it on the platform at the train station. As the train pulls out, the thief snags a bag or purse held by someone standing in the doorway of the crowded train. (This sounds strange to me, as if it might cause people to fall off the moving train.)

Beggar children clamp onto the legs and back of a victim so he can’t walk, while one rummages pockets. (Similar to the human-leg-clamp robbery mentioned above.)

Subhash also mentioned drink-drugging on trains and the trust-building of a person pretending a desire to practice his English with a foreign visitor.

When Bob suggested that poverty might be a motive for theft, the police officers countered that nobody needs to be unemployed in Mumbai. There’s work enough for anyone who wants it. We saw hiring signs in restaurant windows.

At Bob Arno's seminar at the Azad Maiden Police Station, video was projected onto a sheet taped to the wall.

At Bob Arno's seminar at the Azad Maiden Police Station, video was projected onto a sheet taped to the wall.

Bob was to lecture about 70 Mumbai police officers on methods, motivation, and pre-incident body language. The day before the seminar, we were introduced to a 40-ish man in police custody. He’d previously served time for five assaults, a murder, and numerous robberies, and had been picked up again that morning. The barefoot prisoner was dragged in handcuffed to an officer. Bob questioned him through a Hindi translator, but the man was guarded and said little of substance.

Bob Arno questions a thief in custody.

Bob Arno questions a thief in custody.

Meanwhile, two television news crews materialized, and convinced Bob to steal in the streets for their cameras. Bob stole numerous items from the pockets and purses of people on the sidewalk. After each steal, four big television cameras converged on the victims and huge crowds grew—bigger than anyplace else. The victims had no idea their items had been taken, and their reactions were just what news correspondents live for.

Senior Police Inspector Bhawale presents Bob Arno and Bambi with a thank-you bouquet.

Senior Police Inspector Bhawale presents Bob Arno and Bambi with a thank-you bouquet.

Bob’s conclusion was that, compared to the people of other countries, the Indians he stole from were more trusting. They did not react to Bob’s hands in their personal zone, and he was able to steal the belongings of many people very easily. Perhaps that’s because Mumbaikers are used to crowded situations. In some countries, Germany and Hong Kong, for example, the citizens are hardened and cynical. Perhaps too, that is why the locals continue to be the prime targets of thieves.

Huge crowds grew as Bob Arno stole from passers-by in Mumbai.

Huge crowds grew as Bob Arno stole from passers-by in Mumbai.

Bob Arno on Mumbai television (in English)
School of Smooth Operators, Hindustan Times (in English)
Bob Arno: The pickpocketing professor (in English)
Related: Knock-out gas on overnight trains
© Copyright 2008-2010 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Pickpockets in Durban, South Africa

Mdubuzi, a pickpocket in Durban, South Africa, stole a wallet from a woman watching a car race. Bob stole it from Mdubuzi and returned it to the victim.

Mdubuzi, a pickpocket in Durban, South Africa, stole a wallet from a woman watching a car race. Bob stole it from Mdubuzi and returned it to the victim.

“We do what you do,” Bob told the poker-faced pickpocket. “Same job.”

Looking at his blank expression, it wasn’t clear that he understood. Perhaps he didn’t speak English. If he did understand, his mind must have been racing. What could be worse for a pickpocket than being confronted by a stranger? Even one who claims to be a colleague.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Bob put his hand on the young man’s shoulder, dipped into the man’s pants pocket, and extracted a woman’s wallet—the same one we’d just watched—and filmed—the pickpocket snag from someone’s handbag.

Bob opened the wallet. There was no money in it. The pickpocket watched in stunned silence as Bob turned away with it.

“Excuse me, madam. Is this yours?” Bob offered the empty wallet to the victim who still stood just a few yards away, engaged in the spectacle she’d come to witness. The woman accepted the wallet gratefully, but puzzled. She hadn’t realized it was missing.

“You see?” Bob asked, returning to the pickpocket. “Same job. You understand?”

“I understand.” the young man said. Clearly, he didn’t know what was coming. Best to say little, he seemed to think. Speak only when questioned.

It was our first visit to Durban in many years. The climate had changed drastically since the abolishment of apartheid and the switch in governments. Violent crime in South Africa was frighteningly high now, to the extent that the U.S. State Department, as well as Britain’s and Australia’s governments, recommended that business travelers to the country employ armed bodyguards.

Visitors were warned to stay in their hotels after dark and use extreme caution at all times.

Mdubuzi uses stealth to steal from women's purses, his forte.

Mdubuzi uses stealth to steal from women's purses, his forte.

It was a warm spring Sunday when Bob and I landed in Durban’s city center. We had intended to wander through the outdoor market when our attention was drawn to a huge crowd on the edge of Central Park. Though we couldn’t see beyond the spectators, roaring engines soon informed us that they were watching car races. We hung back a bit and studied the rapt audience.

“Watch those three,” Bob said, and I followed his eyes. “Watch their body language.”

Within two minutes of our arrival, our eyes were fixed on a trio of suspicious characters. These three did not strain to look over or between the heads of the crowd. They seemed to be as interested in car races as Bob and I were. Instead, they looked at the backs of the spectators. They lingered and loitered a few minutes, then moved on and looked for new opportunities among new backsides.

Engines roared and tires squealed. Loudspeakers blared some exciting results. One of the young men had a plastic shopping bag in his hand; as in fact, many people did. But his bag was folded flat in half twice, which gave it a bit of firmness. It could have contained a greeting card, or a small pad of paper. On closer inspection, I noticed the red advertising copy printed on the bag was worn off to the point of illegibility. The folded bag must have been held in a sweaty grip for hours.

Three pickpockets surround a woman spectator at a car race.

Three pickpockets surround a woman spectator at a car race.

The three men positioned themselves around a woman whose purse stuck out behind her. One man moved in on each side of the woman, blocking her purse from the views of anyone to her sides. The third man slowly crowded into the woman from behind, stretching his neck as if trying to watch the race. Slowly, slowly, his left hand raised the flattened bag to the purse, where his right hand crept up to meet it. Then, with the plastic bag as a shield and his right hand poised above the purse, he gave the woman a little jostle. A gentle, natural jostle, appropriate for a tightly crowded audience engrossed in vicarious thrills. His skinny elbow raised and lowered then, and Bob and I caught a quick glimpse of brown leather before it was folded into the flattened bag and plunged into the thief’s deep pants pocket.

Excerpt from Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams
Chapter Five: Rip-offs: Introducing… The Opportunist

© Copyright 2008-2010 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Street crime in Stockholm

Graffiti in Stockholm: Lucky Thief proved to be an artist collective.

Graffiti in Stockholm: Lucky Thief proved to be an artist collective.

Beware, pickpockets are working here. That’s the first thing an international visitor sees when entering Sweden at Stockholm Arlanda Airport. Face level signs are pasted on the glass doors you pass through at immigration. Show me your passport. Welcome! Oh, and watch out for pickpockets—you’re in Stockholm!

For a big city, Stockholm has very little street crime. For a city with so little street crime, there sure are a lot of warnings about it. Maybe that’s why there’s so little!

Stealing in Stockholm

Stealing in Stockholm

Digital platform signs in the city’s super-efficient subway system run frequent text warnings, in Swedish and English: watch your personal belongings, pickpockets are around.

Restaurants post reminders about watching your bags. I heard bus drivers on routes to Djurgården, where amusement parks are located, warn about pickpockets.

The Stockholm police have volunteers hand out little warning cards in the streets, and they thought it important enough to gather for a Bob Arno lecture last summer.

Is it a case of hysterics?

Graph from www.bra.se

Graph from www.bra.se

Let’s not compare Stockholm with other cities. Let’s compare it with itself over time. According to the Swedish National Council for Crime Prevention, crime in general peeked in 1990, stayed rather constant for 16 years, and is now on a new rise. Specifically, bicycle theft is down and fraud is up. No surprise there. Burglary is holding steady, while assault is on the rise.

Reported robberies have remained fairly steady at about 9,000 incidents per year for the past ten. The Council includes shop and bank robberies in the figure, but says about 86% of the figure is robbery from the person. Remember, these are reported incidents. My research with Bob indicates that, as people lately tend to work hard and play hard, they also don’t sweat the small stuff. Who has time to file a police report?

Police handouts, multilingual.

Police handouts, multilingual.

I’ve already written about ATM crime, skimmers, and pseudo-cops in Sweden. The latest concern is criminal gang activity. Neighborhoods “have been hit by a wave of violent thefts recently.” Children 14-17 are conducting violent robberies in what seem to be initiation rites as they join the Black Scorpions. The Black Scorpions are starter gangsters who’ll graduate to become Black Cobras. Like Cub Scouts become Boy Scouts. The gang crept in from Copenhagen, and seems to be immigration-related.

Immigrants to Sweden, 1975-2008

Immigrants to Sweden, 1975-2008

The twin upward slopes of crime and immigration might lead one to believe that foreigners are perping on the Swedes. Ah, a politically sensitive theory. I can’t touch it.

Bottom line is that, for a capital city, Stockholm has very little street crime. The Swedes are rather trusting and naive and therefore make excellent victims, especially when they travel to places with significant street crime.

But speaking of Swedish victims of foreigners, here’s a vaguely related, rather humorous report. A woman in Thailand recently conned five Swedish men into sending her money “for a plane ticket to Sweden.” The five met at the airport arrivals hall when they found themselves alone together still waiting for the woman, who never showed up.

© Copyright 2008-2009 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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6,000 thefts per day on Barcelona visitors

Lovely La Rambla, Barcelona

Lovely La Rambla, Barcelona

Barcelona visitors experienced 6,000 thefts per day during 2009′s tourist season.

115,055 pickpocketings and bag snatches in Barcelona were reported in the 12 months ending August 2009, police said. Newspapers did the math and trumpeted “315 thefts every day!” But take away the off-season, when thefts are way down, and add in unreported thefts to get the real number “per day.” More like a million in a year.

Barcelona authorities have finally, officially, admitted that the level of theft in the city is “extremely high.” This came only days after Barcelona made headlines around the world as “worst city for pickpockets,” thanks to TripAdvisor’s proclamation. It’s long been an open secret that otherwise lovable “bcn” has rampant thievery, but potential visitors and, more importantly, the conference business, have begun to wonder if there aren’t safer destinations. Hotels, tired of wiping the tears of robbed guests, must have been screaming for relief.

Police estimate there are 200-250 full-time thieves at large. That makes me laugh. The police, at one time, showed me their profiles of more than 300 pigeon poop pickpockets alone! “La Mancha,” the stain, is what they call them, because they dirty their victims. In my 15-year history of observing thieves in my favorite city, I find that the pigeon poop perps are but a small subsection of the thief pool. If there are 300+ PPPs, how many other bag snatchers and pickpockets lurk about?

Spot the thief. Answer: bɐq ǝɥʇ buıp1oɥ s,ǝɥ

Spot the thief. Answer: bɐq ǝɥʇ buıp1oɥ s,ǝɥ

Although I think 250-300 is a low estimate, it’s still a huge number of criminals who each make any number of efforts throughout the day to gather other people’s valuables. For each thief, there might be 10, 20, or 30 attempts to steal, each day. With each attempt, lots can go wrong to blow it. The victim may suspect something, and turn. He may move, though he suspected nothing. The thief may think someone is watching. Someone may be watching and shout out. The pocket or purse might be difficult to get into. the getaway may become blocked, a cop might be spotted… It’s a delicate balance; attempted thefts are derailed far more often than they’re completed. You may never have had your wallet stolen, but you may have been a target.

And after the thief’s success? Even then, the deal’s not done. The victim may whirl around and accuse the pickpocket, who’ll then drop the goodies on the ground and pretend he had nothing to do with them. That’s a theft—but not counted in any statistics.

The police finger North Africans and Romanians. I’ll agree that these groups are prominent among the perps, along with certain South Americans, other East Europeans, and an unmentionable group. Not that it matters to the victim. Not that visitors would know the difference.

Let’s not forget the transient thieves, either. For the past month Bob has been communicating with a pickpocket in Paris who enjoys lucrative field trips where the moolah is mucho and the heat’s not so hot. At this very moment, he’s shopping for wallets in Brussels. Next stop, BCN. “Barcelona police are easy, but there’s not much money there,” he explained. Yet, he’s making the trip. And he’s not alone.

The police claim that pickpockets try to steal less than €400 per person, because the perps know that stealing less than that will land them a fine if caught, rather than jail time. Uh-uh. No. Pickpockets steal wallets. Bagsnatchers steal purses. They don’t stop to ask how much cash the vic has. They don’t stop to look. And if they get a windfall, they don’t cry about it. “Son-of-a-bitch good,” is the feeling pickpocket Kharem described when he nabbed a briefcase filled with thousands of dollars. People who spend their days stealing expect to get caught and pay the consequences. They know it will happen. For them, the reward is worth the risk. If they get a lot of money in one hit, they can stay home and thereby cut their risk for a day or two.

A pickpocket's fines

A pickpocket's fines

And they need all that cash to pay their fines. For each theft of under €400 for which he’s arrested, the thief “pays a fine of €200 and then returns to the street,” said an official of the City police who asked for anonymity. “But they work so much that it’s worthwhile to them to keep doing it and pay the occasional €200 fine.” Some of these thieves have hundreds of arrests in their records and are released over and over again; presumably to collect cash to pay their fines. Looking at the fistful of fines Kharem showed us, this is a pretty lucrative system for the city. A stupid-tourist tax perhaps, or a licensing fee for thieves.

“315 thefts each day,” another headline reads. In August 2009, the year-to-date total was 115,055 reported thefts. But why average them over a full year? Most of the tourist activity is from May to November. Pickpocketing is easier when people are in summer clothes rather than bundled up with coats that cover pockets. I’d say most of the 115,055 reported thefts occurred in the six good-weather months. That means about 600 each day that you’re likely to be there, sharply dropping off as the weather cools and the tourists dry up.

But that’s reported thefts. In Barcelona, I’d multiply the reported thefts by a factor of 10 to get actual thefts. That brings the number up to 6,000 each day of the tourist season.

Why by a factor of 10? Lots of cruise ship passengers get a single day in BCN. I’ve personally interviewed at least 1,500 of them. When they’re robbed, they don’t have time to file a report because they have to be on their ship. They tend to be of a certain type, too: mouth-breathing obliviates with protruding wallets and gaping purses who advertise their naiveté with every particle of their beings.

And lots of carefree youth visit; when they’re robbed, and their loss is small, they just chalk it up to their carelessness and don’t bother filing. Lots of drinking in the bars and pubs, where victims just assume they lost their wallet, phone, or camera.

And lastly, for those who do attempt to file a police report, the process can be long and arduous. Bob and I have assisted or accompanied many victims through the ordeal. It can take hours. It can be daunting: waiting for one of the few police officers who can take a report in English or French or whatever, going from one police station to another. It can suck up half a day or more. It’s very tempting to give up when the police tell you to come back in two hours to complete the process. Or even at the start when the lineup to file reports is out the door. And if a tourist has lost his passport, getting a new one is the priority. He may not file a police report at all. After canceling credit cards and figuring out how to get some quick cash, the victim is exhausted.

I know something about the rate of reporting losses from speaking to thousands of travelers over the years (around the world). I’ve conducted an informal survey on how often police reports are filed. Of the hundreds of victims who tell us their sad stories each year, a minute fraction say they bothered to file a police report. They don’t want to ruin even more of their trip. They, like the police, throw up their hands and blow air.

This new, official recognition of the problem is laudable. Now it will be interesting to watch the coming season, hear the numbers, and do the math.

Yes, I’m postulating that only about 10% of personal thefts in Barcelona get reported to the police. But the days are long in BCN, so that’s only, say 300 an hour. In the high season.
© Copyright 2008-2009 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Faces of Papua New Guinea

papua-new-guinea-1

Would a slathering of Dijon tempt the formerly (?) (supposedly) cannibalistic highland villagers? I couldn’t get myself to attempt the experiment. While on a visit to the north of Australia, Bob and I made a quick trip to Papua New Guinea. We were awed by traditional dancers from the highland villages. Only one of the men spoke English; he told me they are Huli “wigmen,” and that it took four years to grow his wig of human hair (presumably made of his own hair).

papua-new-guinea-2

Though cannibalism and human sacrifice are reportedly no longer practiced here, Papua New Guinea does have a scarily high rate of crime and, just a year ago, Port Moresby was ranked among the top five murder capitals in the world. Hotels and local guidebooks warn of sudden, unpredictable, and violent eruptions of inter-tribal conflict.

“Papua New Guinea has a high crime rate. Numerous U.S. citizen residents and visitors have been victims of violent crime in recent years, and they have sometimes suffered severe injuries. Carjackings, armed robberies, and stoning of vehicles are problems in and around major cities such as Port Moresby, Lae, Mount Hagen, and Goroka, but can happen anywhere. Pickpockets and bag snatchers frequent crowded public areas.…Individuals traveling alone are at greater risk for robbery or gang rape than are those who are part of an organized tour or under escort.”

—U.S. State Department’s Country Specific Information on Papua New Guinea

The U.S. Embassy in Port Moresby “emphasizes that there is no way to guarantee personal safety during a visit to PNG, only to minimize the chances of becoming a victim.”

Bob and I failed to do our homework. Had we read the above before wandering alone all over, we certainly would have changed our behavior appropriately. The fact that we traipsed back roads and the city center unmolested only proves that anecdotal evidence is not the whole story. We might have reported “we were fine!” But that doesn’t mean it’s safe.

papua-new-guinea-3

As we explored the hilly roads of Port Moresby, Bob commented on the rolls and rolls of razor wire, the hefty security at housing complexes, and the number of security vehicles that followed residents into the complexes. Bob assumed the residents were high-profile mining executives, hence the security. After further study, it seems that these were simply foreigners working in the country, with the usual security detail.

papua-new-guinea-4

A great number of the people we met, in the city as well, had the red gums and worn-to-stubs blackened teeth of the betel nut-chewer.

papua-new-guinea-5

papua-new-guinea-8

Betel nut, a mild stimulant, is sold everywhere in town, literally every few yards on some streets. It’s chewed with a pinch of lime (the mineral—in a jar in the photo below), a pinch of tobacco, and sometimes a favorite spice. Gutters are littered with betel nut shells and practically run red with spit juices.

papua-new-guinea-7

As a great contrast to the ubiquitous promises of doom and crime to the tourist, Bob and I, in our naive wanderings, quickly considered Port Moresby the most friendly city we’d ever walked. Every single person, without exception, said good morning or good afternoon, and those we stopped to speak with immediately offered their hands, touched our arms, or both.

The Crowne Plaza Hotel in Port Moresby has a stunning collection of masks, some seven feet tall. I’m showing great restraint by posting only one mask photo.

papua-new-guinea-6

I know what you’re thinking. This photo, below, looks fake, like we’ve stuck our heads through holes in a painted backdrop. Uh-uh. No. And the men’s faces are painted, not masks. Through an unofficial translator, a wigman told that the yellow pigment is dug out from “between the gas and the oil.” We’d asked because it looks so unnatural.

papua-new-guinea-9

Yellowcake, uranium oxide

Yellowcake, uranium oxide

“What do they use for the yellow?” my mother, a painter, asked on seeing this photo. I explained what the wigman told me. “It doesn’t look natural to me,” my mother said.

“Let me Daddle that,” I said. My sisters and I have always asked our brilliant chemist father whatever curiosity needed an answer. As he was already on the line, my father said it sounds like they use “yellowcake,” a kind of uranium oxide. “Can’t be too good to rub on the skin,” he added.

© Copyright 2008-2009 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Street crime in Lisbon

A Portuguese pickpocket

A Portuguese pickpocket

Thieves are thick on Lisbon’s two main tourist trams, 15 and 28. Within five minutes of arriving at a tram stop for #28, we’d pegged a pair of pickpockets. One carried a flat messenger bag and a newspaper, the other carried a jacket in the sweltering heat.

They stood well away from the gathering crowd waiting for #28. I was among the crowd; Bob watched from across the street, then down the block.

When the tram eventually lumbered along its tracks toward the stop, it was as if a director had called “action!” The waiting passengers tried to anticipate its exact stopping point; the two thieves moved in; Bob got into line; I kept to Bob’s right, camera aimed at his back pocket; one pickpocket threw his jacket over his left arm and went for Bob’s (prop) wallet; the other pickpocket got behind me, trying for my purse.

Slowly, we all mounted the tram stairs. I knew the thieves hadn’t succeeded, because they boarded also. If they’d gotten anything they wouldn’t have; but they still thought they had a chance.

Bob and I were both using new video cameras, and we both missed the shot. I had the better opportunity. Perfectly positioned, I saw everything. But I didn’t press the record button hard enough (though I thought I did). I missed the money shot.

The thieves moved to the back of the tram, where another pair, a man and a woman, joined them. It looked like they planned to work together. We were pretty sure they would try to block a departing passenger and pickpocket him on the stairs. Bob wanted to be that passenger, but I wanted to wait and see how their game played out.

A good samaritan warns of her city's thieves with a laugh.

A good samaritan warns of her city's thieves with a laugh.

Meanwhile, a woman looked at me with a big, friendly smile. “His wallet,” she said, patting her hip, “it’s dangerous…that way.” Laughing, she pointed her thumb behind her toward the back of the tram. To Bob she said “In her pocket is better.”

As the tram trundled on, I wondered why one of the pickpockets moved on my purse.

Signs onboard don't help boarding passengers.

Signs onboard don't help boarding passengers.

It’s made of thick, rough leather, has a narrow opening high in my armpit, and a deep shape. It would be impossible to get into—unless the man had a razor blade. Even with a blade it would be a challenge, but the cutpurse wouldn’t necessarily realize it. Not particularly stylish, the purse is perfect for thiefhunting. I found it in Beijing.

Two Portuguese pickpockets in Lisbon

Two Portuguese pickpockets in Lisbon

Too soon, the tram came to the end of its line and no one departed in front of the thieves. As the team of four dispersed, Bob accosted the original pair. We learned that they’re Portuguese, as was the third man, while his female partner was Bosnian. One of the thieves got busy on his mobile phone and wandered off—we guessed he was speaking with the third man.

Portuguese pickpocket's technique.

Portuguese pickpocket's technique.

We kept up a conversation with the second, who was willing to talk. He demonstrated his technique, nipping the wallet between his first and second fingertips.

Bob and I waited for the next tram to go back. So did the foursome, smoking, separated, cautious, on the grassy area at the end of the line. We got on; of course they didn’t.

The old elevator tower: scene of many crimes.

The old elevator tower: scene of many crimes.

We learned that pickpockets are also active on the stairs around the old elevator tower, despite the presence of security guards. We didn’t spend much time there. Worse, gang activity has increased dramatically over the past year, with immigrants arriving from the favellas of Brazil. Car-jackings are commonplace, even in the city center. Graffiti was everywhere.

Not all graffiti is this colorful. Many buildings are this dilapidated.

Not all graffiti is this colorful. Many buildings are this dilapidated.

The whole city is crumbling. Peeling plaster and missing tiles made for some interesting textures on the walls. Unfortunately, Lisbon can’t pull off the elegant flaky-paint look the way Venice does. Lisbon just looks terribly dilapidated, its glory days over, deteriorating as we watch. Its structures are still grand, but they’re dressed like homeless derelicts, with the same empty-eyed glower, all dignity and self-respect burned off by neglect.

What I have always loved about Lisbon (and other Portuguese cities) are the sidewalks; and these, I’m happy to report, are still immaculately maintained. Black and white mosaics of smooth marble cubes, they are still neat, level, and polished to a slippery shine. The designs are different wherever you walk, some simple geometric shapes, some extravagant patterns, even signs of the zodiac. I’ll post about the making of these mosaics later.

Lisbon's lovely marble mosaic pavements.

Lisbon's lovely marble mosaic pavements.

Next day, same place. Waiting for tram 28. We’re melting in the heat and up shuffles this guy, with a thick, dirty sweatshirt tied around his waist, and a messenger bag. Not too obvious, is he? When the tram neared he dragged himself into position, and stared blankly up at the shouting driver. The driver was not shouting at him; he was saying something about a broken door, that the tram was going out of service. No one got on. Our man trundled away, like a tram off its tracks, with no discernible destination.

Anyone look suspicious here?

Anyone look suspicious here?

©copyright 2000-2009. All rights reserved. Bambi Vincent

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Street crime in Buenos Aires

Pianist Stephen Kane

Pianist Stephen Kane

When my friend, Stephen Kane, described what he witnessed on a recent afternoon in Buenos Aires, I begged him to write it down for me. Following is his account.

Bad action in Buenos Aires

Prior to my first visit to Buenos Aires I was warned about the mustard/ketchup gag. As you’re walking, carrying a shoulder bag, someone sneaks behind you and squirts mustard or ketchup on your back. The accomplice later offers to help you clean it off. You remove the bag from your shoulder to do that and then it disappears along with the thief. So I felt particularly foolish when it almost immediately happened to me. I noticed I had been squirted but just kept holding my bag tightly and walking until I was safely out of the area. I have been back to Argentina many times and, thankfully, have never been threatened with robbery again.

So I suppose I was due for one particularly eventful day. I wasn’t the victim but the witness of two different scenes.

I was having Saturday lunch in a cafe on the corner of Corrientes and Florida. I was sitting at the window and had a very clear view of the crowd of people and traffic at the intersection. If I hadn’t been looking in the right direction I’d have never seen it happen. It was much too fast; so fast that nobody nearby realized it had happened until it was over. A tall, beautifully dressed girl was standing with her boyfriend waiting for the light to change so they could cross the street. Mixed into the traffic speeding down Corrientes was a large motorcycle carrying two men. The cycle suddenly stopped right in front of her and the man on back jumped off. He grabbed the girl from behind, putting one of his hands over her mouth to keep her from screaming. With the other hand he grabbed her necklaces and purse. By the time she was able to even make a sound and alert her boyfriend the thief was back on the cycle with his accomplice and speeding away in escape. But the event wasn’t finished. Someone standing nearby actually did see the robbery and managed to capture a picture of the thieves on a cellphone camera. I watched as they all summoned a policeman and showed him the photo of the cyclists. Of course, during the discussion that followed, the victims were much more animated than the policeman. After pleading with him for several minutes they eventually gave up and went on their way. So did the crowd. So did the policeman.

Petter, a thief in Lima, told us that one member of his team always carries a knife.

Petter, a thief in Lima, told us that one member of his team always carries a knife.

After lunch I walked a few blocks down Florida and turned into a small, uncrowded side street. I noticed a commotion in Continue reading

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Windows Mobile 6.5 demo phone stolen at Mobile World Congress in Barcelona

A pickpocket in Barcelona uses a newspaper to hide his steal. We videotaped with a hidden camera.

A pickpocket in Barcelona uses a newspaper to hide his steal. We videotaped with a hidden camera.

Message to Telsta executive pickpocket victim: don’t beat yourself up. It happens to lots of visitors to Barcelona. So many, that events are starting to flee Barcelona for safer cities.

A doctor told us he had just spent six days in Barcelona at a pathology conference. One of his colleagues had her passport stolen and when she went to the embassy, fourteen other conference attendees were there reporting thefts. That’s typical.

Almost a year ago, Yannick Laclau wrote that Barcelona was close to losing the Mobile World Congress, partly because of the high level of street crime in the city. The convention organizers gave Barcelona another shot, and this year’s Congress just ended there. Yeah, there were thefts. No surprise.

A pickpocket at work in Barcelona.

A pickpocket at work in Barcelona.

But among the many items stolen by pickpockets was something the entire Windows world was waiting for: the working demo of Windows Mobile 6.5. It was lifted right out of the pocket of the Australian telephone company executive who was testing it. But really, it could have happened to anyone.

Or could it? With its top secret, unreleased, mobile operating system, the one that’s supposed to crush the iPhone with its Windows Marketplace fake AppStore and copycat touch screen, the phone was a hot property. I personally know any number of thieves in Barcelona who would consider it a fun challenge, albeit an easy one, to target a specific item. Presented properly, one could probably hire the unwitting pickpocket to steal the thing, then hand it over over for little more than he guesses is its street price. I’d probably recruit Kharem, or Plaid (about whom I’ve not yet written), or the swift-swiper.

Pickpockets often work in pairs, like these two in Barcelona. The newspaper is a tool, under which they hide their moves, as in the photo above.

Pickpockets often work in pairs, like these two in Barcelona. The newspaper is a tool, under which they hide their moves, as in the photo above.

Stranger things have happened. Like the time Bob gave some tourist safety talks to police and security groups in an unmentionable Spanish-speaking country. Of course he also demonstrated his pickpocketing skills. At dinner afterward, the chief of presidential security whispered to Bob about a visiting Colombian drug lord known for ordering ruthless murders. He actually asked Bob to pickpocket the gangster! They wanted him to steal his passport. There were 19 at the dinner table that night. It was pretty easy for us to grab our driver and slip away quietly.

©copyright 2000-2009. All rights reserved. Bambi Vincent

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Thieves and witchdoctors

Mondli and Hector purchase herbs from a witchdoctor at a South Africa muti market.

Mondli and Hector purchase herbs from a witchdoctor at a South Africa muti market.

In Johannesburg for a string of corporate shows, we managed to find and talk to three pickpockets, one of whom claimed to be reformed. He is Mondli, seen here on the left, with Hector, 29 years old and still active. With a translator, we and the thieves went to the city’s enormous muti market, sprawled over many acres under a freeway overpass. Muti is traditional African medicine, made of plant and animal parts, and it is dispensed by a sangoma or inyanga, types of witchdoctor.

The witchdoctor gets a joke.

The witchdoctor gets a joke.

Mondli and Hector purchased herbs which, when boiled and drunk, and/or bathed in, will “make them invisible to police.” Mondli’s interest in this herb increased our skepticism of his reformed status.

The sangoma dissolved into laughter when the honest thief among us asked her if she had muti to make his penis smaller.

A sangoma's consultation house.

A sangoma's consultation house.

Elaborate consultation houses stand in the otherwise haphazard market. This one, on the right, was larger than most; others were precious dollhouses, barely wide enough to contain two adults.

We also interviewed a 24-year-old pickpocket named Sihle, who uses razor blades to slice the back pockets of men looking at magazines in bookshops. (Very specific M.O., no?) The wallet then drops into Sihle’s hand, he explained, while the razor blade is stored in a slit in his shirt cuff.

Another sangoma and consultation room.

Another sangoma and consultation room.

Medicinal plant and animal parts, plus human feet. Be glad this photo isn't larger!

Medicinal plant and animal parts, plus human feet. Be glad this photo isn't larger!

Bambi played, Bob wrestled, with a 14-week-old lion cub.

Bambi played, Bob wrestled, with a 14-week-old lion cub.

Off duty, we got VIP treatment at private game parks. At 14 weeks old, this lion cub enjoyed its last playdate with humans. Heavy and strong, it began to exercise its instinct to go for the neck, as Bob learned that day.
©copyright 2000-2008. All rights reserved. Bambi Vincent

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The tasteful tourist

Pickpocket, left, pretends innocence after stealing a wallet from Diaz, right.

Pickpocket, left, pretends innocence after stealing a wallet from Diaz, right.

Bob and I looked at each other in disbelief. Only we knew the incredible odds we’d just beaten. To stroll into Rome’s Termini, the main train and subway station, pick a platform, peg a pair of old men as pickpockets, position a victim, and have it all work as if to a script, in under twenty minutes, on Take One… we were flabbergasted, giggly.
The fact that the film crew’s hidden cameras captured it all was merely the cherry on top. This had been our hope and our plan, but we never dreamed we’d pull it off so quickly, if at all. Our prey were Italians; ordinary-looking, regular citizens. Not ethnic minorities, not immigrants, not identifiable outcasts. We’d begun this project for ABC 20/20 with this, the toughest challenge of them all.

Just last night, at dinner in a wonderfully touristy trattoria, investigative reporter Arnold Diaz and segment producer Glenn Ruppel had expressed their severe doubt. They wondered why ABC had allowed this frivolous endeavor, invested the time and significant expense in so improbable a venture. Hidden camera expert Jill Goldstein, serious videographer though she was, just seemed pleased to be along, on her first trip to Europe, her first trip abroad. The five of us ate an innumerable procession of courses any Italian would have pared by half, toasting luck first with Prosecco, then wine, grappa, and finally little glasses of thick, sweet limoncello.

Arnold Diaz interviews Bob Arno about pickpocketing techniques.

Arnold Diaz interviews Bob Arno about pickpocketing techniques.

Bob and I had worried all the previous two weeks, fretting over myriad potential obstacles. How could we be certain to lead the crew to thieves, get Arnold Diaz pickpocketed, and get it all on film? How would we find the perps in all of Rome?

Our hopes slipped a little when we first met Arnold. With his refined Latin looks and flair for fashion, he blended right in with the local Italian crowd. He didn’t look like a typical American tourist, who may as well have the stars and stripes tattooed across the forehead. Arnold didn’t look like a tourist at all; rather, he looked like a European businessman. So we gave him a five-minute makeover. We slung a backpack on him, put a guidebook in his hand, a camera around his neck, and a “wife” by his side (me!) and, poof—there he was: a tasteful tourist, ready to be ripped off.

Excerpt from Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams
Chapter Two (part-g): Research Before You Go

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Anatomy of a victim

Too-typical tourists.

Too-typical tourists.

Let’s look at the anatomy of a victim. I’m thinking of a couple I saw in Barcelona not too long ago. They had the word “gull” plastered all over them, a perfect lesson in what not to do. They were affluent-looking: the woman wore a slinky black dress, a big blonde wig, and garish diamonds from here to there, real or not. Her watch was thin, gold, and diamond encrusted. She carried a designer purse and a recognizably expensive shopping bag. The man wore a floppy black suit, trendy black t-shirt, and a gold Rolex. He carried a large camera bag with a Sony label on it. They stood utterly bewildered, map in hand, staring at street signs. I had an urge to educate them, but what could they change right then and there? I’d only manage to scare them. Bob and I want people to enjoy their travels. We mean to raise awareness, not paranoia.

If this couple were the ideal paradigm of oblivion, they’d plop down at a sidewalk café. She’d sling her purse (unzipped) over the back of the chair by its delicate strap and he’d put his camera bag on the ground beside or under his chair. He would not put his foot through the strap. He’d hang his jacket on the back of his chair. Is anything in its pockets? They’d both relax and watch the people parade, as they should. When the bill arrived, he’d leave his thick wallet on the table in front of him while he waited for change. Eventually he’d realize there would be no change, because he hadn’t counted on a cover charge, a charge for bread, a charge for moist, scented, plastic-wrapped napkins, a built-in tip, and water that cost more than wine.

How many mistakes did they make?

A purse at risk.

A purse at risk.

“Tourists are more vulnerable than anyone else on the streets,” Bob says. “And not only because they often carry more money than others. Their eyes are everywhere: on the fine architecture, the uneven pavement, shop windows, the map in their hands, unfamiliar traffic patterns, unpronounceable street signs. They don’t know the customs of the locals and don’t recognize the local troublemakers.
“Con artists and thieves are drawn to tourists for the same reasons. Tourists are unsuspecting and vulnerable.”

Excerpt from Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams
Chapter Two (part-f): Research Before You Go

Also read:
Theft Thwarter Tips
Pocketology 101
Purseology 101
Tips for Women

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