We were in St. Petersburg at the time of the G8 conference [in 2013], when Russia was still in the G8. I’ve never seen so many police in my life. It seemed that for every ten people there were two police, and that was just the uniformed ones. The FSB are easy to spot as they all wear “Men in Black” style suits. The women also wear a sort of uniform. Everywhere you looked there were large minibuses with darkened windows, through which you could see flickering laptops, presumably monitoring mobile communications.

Pity there weren’t any police around (they must have all been taking leave before the G8) to catch the pickpockets who robbed my friend the first week we were there, before the week of the actual G8. The tourist rep from City Realty, from whom we’d rented the apartment, said there was no point in reporting the theft as the police were in on it. There were two main gangs seemingly operating with impunity, as pictures of them can be seen on the internet, so all the locals know who they are. One gang uses gypsy children, so it resembles a gang that robbed my wife in Madrid. The other is more serious, consisting of Dagestanis and Chechens. This was the one that targeted my friend. 

My friend seemed to think he was in a typical holiday place, drinking loads of vodka, staggering about and not keeping a wary eye on things. So he lost his money, which he kept in a pocket on his cargo pants. 

It was a well-planned and smooth operation. I even found a picture of the original spotter online. We were on our way to visit the fort when I looked behind me, only to see my friends talking to this man with a sort of Mongolian appearance. He was the spotter, who was asking directions of my friend, who was waving a map around, not trusting my directions from my phone, like a total idiot. He might as well have had a big sign round his neck, in Russian, saying, “Please rob me”. 

Later on in the day, after much more vodka, he went to the local convenience store on Nevsky Prospekt where three Dagestanis working as a team jostled him and got his wallet. I wasn’t there, but when I went down to the little store to find out what had happened, there, keeping an eye on things, was the same Mongolian who had been asking directions early on in the day. During the following weeks I saw him on Nevsky a few times, but he disappeared as soon as I saw him. So there were at least four in the team, the three Dagestanis in the shop, and the spotter. 

The way they did it was classic. As drunken idiot tourist comes into doorway in very cramped minimart, first Dagestani offers him a wallet. He’s on a mobile phone so only gestures. My friend pats his trousers where he keeps his wallet to make sure it’s not his. He then goes into the shop looking for more vodka. The aisles are narrow, so he has to brush past two more Dagestanis, also on mobile phones, presumably having been told by the first one that my friend is pissed as a rat and he keeps his wallet in a front pocket on his trousers, like an imbecile. 

My friend goes to pay for his vodka but finds his wallet has gone, together with the Dagestanis. Later, when I go to investigate, the spotter is hanging around, presumably to check that we hadn’t found the one honest cop in St Petersburg. Textbook pickpocket operation. 

I really don’t know why my friend didn’t realize we were in a dodgy area, or a dodgy country indeed. For a start, the agency told us we had to give a fictitious hotel address if the police stopped us—you have to pay for an “invitation” letter or you don’t get a visa. Our flat was in a security-controlled courtyard and we had to go through security to even get in the courtyard, and then the outside steel door had four locks and the door to the flat also had a steel door with four locks. At that end of Nevsky Prospekt every time we left the flat without our female companion we were propositioned by prostitutes and drug dealers. FFS, how much more information do you need to know that you can’t take risks?

My friend takes a great deal more care now. His sister and I had done all the arranging. Fictitious hotel for the invitation letter, paid cash for everything, even the visas etc etc. Plus any agent we used for transport or accommodation would say, “Remember, this is Russia.” 

Because we’d done all this slightly dubious setting up of the holiday, we knew we were not dealing with a normal holiday place. My friend didn’t realize that, and behaved as though he was on holiday in a pleasant safe place. He lost about 400 euros in rubles, all his credit cards, and had to make an expensive phone call to cancel his cards. He hadn’t bothered to keep copies or any details, so the phone call cost about £70. Luckily his passport was in another pocket. You don’t want to lose your passport in Russia when your visa stipulates that you stay in a fictitious hotel. They really do check all these bits of paper. In my case, they even checked my facebook page, to see if I’d said anything nasty about Russia I suppose! My companions were not on FB, so they got through immigration a bit quicker.

I attach a few pictures. The 24 hour convenience store was round the corner from our flat, which was through a graffiti strewn courtyard and at the side of a strip club. The flat had the inevitable bag of cement on the stairway. I don’t think I stayed anywhere in Russia, or any other former Soviet countries, where there wasn’t a bag of cement on the stairwell. I even got to look forward to it as it had the look of familiarity. The convenience store is on the left side of Nevsky as you are walking toward the main train station. About ten minutes’ walk away from the station. The “bad” end of Nevsky in other words.

I hope this is useful for other tourists. St. Petersburg is unmissable, but you have to be very careful of your belongings!

• Read about pickpocket gangs in St. Petersburg.
• Read about street crime in St. Petersburg.
• Read about the “Bolshoi Bandits” in St. Petersburg.
• Read how pickpockets use razor blades.
• Read about vodka and caviar in St. Petersburg.