I want to thank you for your information. Before I went to Naples I searched for info on street crime and pickpockets there and also saw your info and video.
As preparation I only had some cash on me in my front pocket and knew the tactics.
Naples pickpocket Angelo
Riding on the notorious R2 bus for a visit to Pompeii I recognised one guy (I think it was Angelo) [from Pickpocket King] and certainly knew that he had bad intentions even when he entered the bus in the front about eight meters from me.
He went out and in with some guys, looked me straight in my eyes and then went for my pockets. As I knew what his goal was I could move away from him while still noticing that they were checking my pockets.
The older Italians complemented me for my reaction and asked if I was robbed. I was not.
However, it was agressive that he went for me even though he must have known that I knew that he was up to this.
I have only experienced this agressive pickpocket behaviour in Naples and not in Rome, Barcelona, Madrid, Athens etc.
One thing that I don’t understand is that these guys can continue their pickpocket work. A ten year ban on public transport would do the job maybe? But I think there must be a bribe.
But most of all I would like to thank you for the information that made me enjoy my trip. I will not go back to Naples and prefer the other cities.
This young pickpocket has just returned Bob’s wallet and is now nervous and uncomfortable, trapped on a moving train with her victim.
Hunting Pickpockets on Rome Metro
As we rode the steep escalator to the depths of Rome’s Termini Station we marveled at the swirling, pushing, roiling crowd of passengers. Before we reached the bottom, we could see several uniformed officers on the platform. Bob groaned.
“Bad luck for us. There won’t be any pickpockets with the police around.”
It was nearly noon. We thought we’d have a quick look anyway, then surface for a lunch of Roman-fried artichokes and zucchini flowers. But as we were funneled off the escalator, we immediately recognized the abused-looking face of a pregnant pickpocket we’d filmed years earlier. Again, she was big with child. The woman, perhaps 20 years old now, swayed on her feet and smiled as she kidded with the police officers.
What was going on?
Had it not been for that familiar face, we wouldn’t have looked twice at a trendy teenager nearby. The girl wore cute, tight pants rolled up at the cuffs, a clingy, low-cut top, and the latest in designer eyeglasses. She wore a gaudy choker and makeup, her lips darkly outlined with pencil.
Two female pickpockets in Rome’s subway. The one wearing a cap later stole Bob’s wallet.
In no way did she fit our previous pickpocket profile. Her dark hair was short and straight, neatly cut at shoulder length, sticking out beneath a black baseball cap. Slung across her chest, she carried the latest style shoulder-bag, the body-hugging, wide-strapped leather pouch with extra cellphone/glasscase/coin compartments attached to the broad strap. Smart and sassy, she resembled not-at-all her dowdy, pregnant friend. The girl was suspect by association.
The two girls conversed together, and with the uniformed officers as well.
At first we assumed the girls had been arrested and were awaiting police escort to the station. How silly of us. After five or six minutes of chat, the girls and officers wandered from the bottom of the escalator to the train platform, which was momentarily quiet. Their joking and laughing continued, and there was even a little friendly physical contact initiated by one officer.
A new crowd soon built up on the platform, and our attention turned to a perfect suspect, a pudgy male. We watched his eyes, and the way they locked onto another passenger. He moved to his chosen one and stood close.
The train swooshed in and stopped abruptly. Its doors slid open and clotted streams of human beings gushed forth, flowing, somehow, into the mass of bodies waiting on the platform, coalescing into a solid, writhing, determined organism. The new being contracted, then broke into bits, dispersing like grains from a punctured sack of rice.
The pudgy male followed his mark onto the train, shuffling in tiny steps so close, so close. He wouldn’t allow anyone to separate them. Bob and I followed, intending to film him, but we were roughly shunted to the right by a last-second surge of passengers as the train doors tried to shut. There was no way we could filter our narrow bodies through the dense pack to get closer to Pudgy.
Three of the many pickpockets surrounding us on the subway train in Rome.
Pickpockets everywhere
Before we had time for disappointment, Bob turned to me.
“All around us,” he said under his breath.
Yes, four young men, on three sides of Bob and one behind me. They were eyeing each other. The tallest, in front of Bob, already had Bob’s wallet.
“Give it back.” Bob said, firmly but quietly. “Give me the wallet.”
No response. Four pairs of wild eyes now flicked everywhere but at each other, everywhere but at their victim.
“Give me the wallet.” Bob hardened his voice and stared at the tall one.
Plunk. The wallet hit the floor and the men stepped aside.
I picked it up as the train reached a station. Bob was still glaring at the four. He intended to follow them onto the platform.
The foursome got off and we were right behind them. But there, on the platform, was the pudgy male we’d followed earlier. We dropped the four and snuck up on Pudgy, who was now behind a crowd waiting to board while a stream of others disembarked.
Bob’s camera was still rolling.
“Pudgy” prepares to lean toward his victim, whose wallet he steals. (I know, bad quality photo. It’s a frame-grab from video in a dark area.)
Behind the waiting passengers, Pudgy did a slow lunge, reaching his hands as far forward as possible. Bob leaned dangerously against the train, straining to see, angling his camera. Pudgy stretched toward a man who shuffled slowly toward the train door. With both hands, he opened the Velcro flap, then put one hand right into the cargo pocket low on the man’s thigh, and came out with a wallet. He turned and rushed away down the platform, suddenly followed by a cluster of children—like the Pied Piper. We followed him to an escalator where a security guard, watching our pursuit, shouted “Kick him! Kick him!” over and over. Obviously, Pudgy was well-known in the area, and frustrated guards have little authority over crimes they do not witness.
Where were we? I gave Bob the recovered wallet and he replaced it in his fanny pack. We turned to look for a station name and there, standing in a just-arrived train, was the trendy teenager in the black cap.
We dashed on before the doors slammed shut. The train lurched and gathered speed. Squashed against the door, we scrutinized the passengers. Now I noticed that the teen girl wore the small crude tattoos often associated with criminal tribes: two on her upper arm and at least one more on her hand.
“Give me back the wallet,” Bob said quietly. I didn’t even know she’d taken it. She tossed her hair and looked away, inching closer to the door.
“Give it back.” Bob pointed his sunglass case (containing a hidden camera) directly at her. He’d already filmed her hand in his fanny pack. Now he focused on her face.
She licked her made-up lips and blinked nervously, trapped beside her victim. Finally, she unzipped her shoulder-bag and removed Bob’s wallet. She handed it to him meekly.
The train came to a stop and the stealthy opportunist made a quick escape. Bob and I returned to Termini, ready for lunch. We’d only been three stations away.
Back at Termini, as we shuffled along with the mob toward the escalator, we saw the uniformed officers again, and with them, the pregnant pickpocket, the trendy teenager, and at least a dozen others.
Pickpockets and police: friends? or what…
Instead of surfacing for lunch, we lingered on the platform, watching the interaction. The area had cleared of passengers. Six or eight police officers sauntered around among the 15 or so in the pickpocket gang. There were women with babies on their chests, women without babies, and many children. All of them, pickpockets and police, loitered comfortably together in a loose and shifting association. Passengers began to arrive again, but the platform was still pretty empty. A clutch of women formed a huddle nearby, bending inwards. Soon they straightened, a knot opening like the petals of a daisy, or a fist opening to reveal a treasure. As the women moved away, each counted a wad of bills and stuffed them into a pocket or backpack. They made no effort to hide their swag.
“Pudgy” the pickpocket on the Rome Metro train
Later, analyzing the footage of our subway exploits, we were astonished to see the trendy teenager lift another wallet before she took ours. Her victim was a woman who clutched her handbag to her chest. Beneath it she wore a fanny pack. Bob’s camera, held low as we entered the train, recorded what our eyes had missed: the trendy teenager’s tattooed hand unzipping the fanny pack, removing a wallet, and rezipping the bag. Then she brought the stolen goods up to her own bag, and out of the camera’s range. Two wallets in two minutes! That could add up to serious money, depending on how many palms had to be greased.
Unfamiliar fingers fiddled with the flap of my bag.
I let them. My American Express card was in the purse, along with a small camera and other things I’d hate to lose. Still, out of the corner of my eye, I watched without interfering.
I was wedged like a flimsy pamphlet between big brass bookends, and about as immobile, too. We had just boarded the metro train at Omonia Station in downtown Athens. The train was packed with it’s usual proportion of locals, tourists, and pickpockets. It was hot, airless, and odoriferous to distraction.
Bob and I had been separated by a force from behind as we boarded the car in a crush of bodies. The power behind the force stood between us: two large men in their thirties. I had one hand on a ceiling strap, the other protectively clutching a cheap-looking canvas bag on my shoulder, which perfectly disguised my laptop. My purse hung low and appeared vulnerable.
The fingers tugged gently, but I knew it was futile. I had tied a small knot in the leather cord of the drawstring bag. I allowed the man to try solely to confirm to myself that he was what we suspected him to be.
Pickpockets on trains
Bob and I had watched these two on the platform. They were neatly dressed, clean-cut, and spoke Russian. They stood apart from one another as if they weren’t together. Their behavior on the platform made them suspects. When an uncrowded train came and they didn’t get on it, they were as good as guilty in our minds. Then again… we didn’t board that train either.
A train in Athens
We squeezed onto the next sardine can and Boris and Igor (as I’ll call them) pressed themselves in behind us, then between us. Igor bumped hard against me, spinning me against my will as he orbited around me. Just a little self-serving do-si-do accompanied by a fleeting expression of apology as he positioned himself to his secret advantage. Physical contact was unavoidable in the over-crowded car. Against my forearm, I could feel Igor’s wrist twitching as his fingers played with my bag.
The two men looked everywhere but at me. As our favorite New York cop taught us, watch their eyes. They seemed to be making unnecessary head movements, looking here and there as if they had no idea what was happening down below and were not responsible in the least for any mischief their hands might do.
Igor didn’t mess around long. At the next station, he slapped his forehead in a pantomime of stupid me, I forgot!, and slipped off the train. Boris followed. Bob and I did not.
Then they surprised us: they reboarded the other end of the same car, enabling us to observe them. Although the Russian-speaking pair towered over the short Greeks and most of the tourists, our line of sight wasn’t perfect across the mass of passengers.
Igor looked at Boris and Boris looked away. They had sandwiched a woman tourist and separated her from her husband, just as they had done with us. This was their method of stabilizing the victim, of impeding her movement. The couple took it in stride though, and braced themselves with both hands against the jerking and jostling of the train as it sped to the next station. They were understandably oblivious to the intentions of their neighbors. But they were unacceptably oblivious of their belongings, their situation, and their vulnerability. We were dying to shout out, to yell pickpocket! It is our deepest urge and instinct to warn others of the danger we’re so aware of. However… however…
We didn’t. For the reasons we have and will further explain, we let the situation take its course. We reminded ourselves: we are researchers in the field, observing and documenting a specific behavior, and we use the knowledge we gain to educate many. Once again and with twinges of guilt, we refrained from interfering.
Athens contrast
Athens’ green line is notorious for pickpockets. This convenient route is heavily used by tourists from Piraeus at the southern end, where ferries and cruise ships dock, to Thiseio for the Acropolis, Monastiraki for the Plaka shopping district, and Omonia Square, the city center. When these trains are crowded, and they frequently are, they’re pickpocket paradise. Thieves thrive on the forced physical contact, distraction of discomfort, and bodies hiding their dirty work.
Boris and Igor were swiveling their heads with exaggerated nonchalance. The train lurched into darkness for about three seconds. When it emerged, Igor lowered his sunglasses from the top of his head to his eyes. A got-it signal, we reflected later.
Still pretending not to know each other, they shoved impolitely through the standing crowd to position themselves against the doors. They were first to exit the train as the doors slid open, and they separated immediately, walking in opposite directions on the platform. The tourist couple was almost last to get off the train, so we jumped off also and caught up with them. We could see right away that the woman’s bag had been slit with a razor.
Why hadn’t those thug-like thieves sliced my bag? I knew they wanted it. Perhaps they thought the leather too thick, or they weren’t happy with their access or angle. Possibly the knot in my drawstring signaled my awareness of potential danger. Maybe they thought someone could see them, or their getaway would be hindered.
How to avoid pickpockets
Boris and Igor left me for someone else. It’s proof of the tremendous coordination of innumerable aspects required from the perpetrator’s perspective. So many factors must be in alignment before a thief will take a chance; so many conditions must be just right. With such a delicate balance necessary, it is not difficult to throw a monkey wrench into the thief’s equilibrium. Eliminate one or more of the elements he requires, and he’d just as soon move on to an easier target with a higher likelihood of success.
Two pickpockets look back at their angry intended victim.
When in Prague, Czech your Wallet
We hit the cobblestones as soon as we had dropped our bags and admired our room in King George’s House hotel, an atmospheric 14th century building in Prague’s Staré Mesto district. The late-summer crowd of budget tourists absorbed us into their mass migration. We surrendered to their pace, joining pudgy, reddened, middle-aged German men in sleeveless t-shirts and Birkenstocks with socks, tattooed skinheads wearing studded collars, and dizzy-eyed long-hairs whose sole employment seemed to be wrapping strands of hair in multi-colored thread.
Since pickpockets operate where tourists congregate, we allowed the happily drifting crowd to sweep us along the narrow lanes. It wasn’t easy to peel our eyes away from the intriguing marionette shops, enticing beer joints, and the renaissance-costumed concert touts. But our mission meant scrutinizing people, not souvenirs and architecture. We disciplined ourselves to study the throng and began to get used to the faces, rhythm, and tempo around us.
When we emerged into a sunny clearing, we found ourselves at the foot of Charles Bridge, a magnet for tourists. The many graceful arches of this medieval bridge step across the broad Vltava River to the Mala Strana area. Mala Strana is a popular pub and restaurant district, and a little further up the hill is Prague Castle. So Charles Bridge is heavy with pedestrian traffic all day and late into the night. Nestled among its 18th century statues, artists and craftsmen ply their wares and musicians play everything from classical to klezmer. The bridge is a destination itself.
Thiefhunting
The two women at left are pickpockets. The two boys at right are their stalls. The woman at center was the intended victim.
We realized at once that the square at the foot of Charles Bridge offered a unique opportunity for pickpockets. A street of wild traffic and speeding trams separates old town from Charles Bridge. Everyone wishing to get from one place to the other must cross the street here at a stoplight. Crowds of a hundred or more people, mostly tourists, quickly accumulate on both sides of the street. Pickpockets have ample time to locate a mark, get in position, and work them while they cross.
Pickpockets in Prague
An affectionate couple on the street corner caught our attention in a big way. When the light changed and the traffic paused, they crossed the busy street among a mob of gawking tourists. But three quarters of the way across the street they abruptly turned and crossed back to where they had begun.
In the “matador” position, the pickpocket (left) slings a coat on her shoulder when she’s ready to work. The coat blocks others from seeing her handiwork.
There they stood, again waiting to cross with the next gathering crowd. The man’s hand casually rested on the woman’s right shoulder. The woman had a blue blazer hanging from her left shoulder. They were better dressed than any of the summer tourists, but somehow didn’t quite look like local business people, either.
The woman sidled up to a man waiting to cross. The light changed. The pedestrians stepped off the curb and surged around the nose of a tram, which had come to a stop in the crossers’ territory.
The man shifted his hand to the woman’s left shoulder, where he anchored her blazer. The woman used her left hand to extend the blazer, completely shielding her work. As we all reached the opposite curb, I fought through the crowd and tried to speak with the elderly gentleman who was the woman’s target.
In Prague at the Charles Bridge crossing, pickpockets block their marks as they cross the street to slow them down.
“Where are you from?” I asked him.
“Greece,” his wife said. The man was old and hard of hearing.
“Does he have his wallet?” I asked.
The wife didn’t understand.
“Portofoli?” I asked, pointing to the old man’s pocket and hoping I remembered the correct Greek word for wallet.
The wife felt her husband’s pocket and looked up at me in alarm. I looked wildly around for the affectionate couple but they were gone. Thinking frantically for the Greek word for pickpocket, I tried Spanish and Italian. Finally, klepsimo. The woman understood, but why not—the wallet was gone. She hurried away from me before I could say anything else, as if I were the thief.
Bob Arno, a security consultant [as well as a comedy stage pickpocket], is the world’s most prominent pickpocket. Speaking to 02B, Arno lifts the lid on the Barcelona street crime scene. According to him, out of a thousand cruise-goers disembarking in Barcelona on any given day, five will be stripped of their belongings.
By Ignasi Jorro in Barcelona, 23/02/2014
Not many former pickpockets pride themselves on having been featured on the frontpage of Time. Bob Arno is one of them. He is often described as “the world’s most famous pickpocket” and praise pours in for his “unrivalled skills”. Bob Arno has snatched his way into the Wall Street Journal, CNN, and New York Times. National Geographic handpicked him for the acclaimed documentary Pickpocket King.
Now a security consultant, Bob Arno has a conference-packed agenda, giving 25 lectures a year on average. The pickpocket-turned-pundit works closely with tourist firms and runs a successful blog on worldwide crime.
02B- When was the last time you visited Barcelona?
Bob Arno- We visit Barcelona every summer, sometimes for a week or so, or several times for a day or two between May and November. The reason for our frequent trips is that we work with various travel companies, like the cruise industry, which brings us to Barcelona.
Bob Arno on Barcelona street crime statistics
02B- How would you describe the “pickpocket scene” (if it can be called so) in that city?
BA- Extremely high, compared with per capita statistics of other tourist cities like Rome, Paris, Copenhagen, and Prague. These other cities also have high pickpocketing rates, but not as varied and blatant as in Barcelona
In my own surveys, I have found that of 1,000 tourists visiting from a cruise ship (for five to eight hours), three to five persons will experience a theft or an attempted theft. Numbers are much lower for the same 1,000 cruise passengers visiting Nice or Athens.
The good news is that lately numbers have come down as to cruise passengers—day visitors who do not stay over night. But young hotel guests, 18-30 years of age, often do not bother to report the theft of a wallet or mobile phone, skewing the numbers.
Bottom line: I would say that the average number of thefts (real losses versus failed attempts) have decreased from over 100 per day, to 50-100 per day.
02B- But, who robs in Barcelona?
BA- Categorizing pickpockets in Barcelona is a complex endeavor. Here is an incomplete list the many players:
• Local gypsy families, who might have arrived many years ago from Kosovo or other war-torn regions, either first or second generation. A decade ago these perpetrators were a serious nuisance in Barcelona and probably constituted over fifty percent of the action. It is far less today.
• North African pickpockets who reside in France (especially in Paris) and make brief trips to Barcelona to practice their trade
• South American pickpockets who reside legally or illegally in Barcelona who specialize in advanced pickpocketing techniques like “la mancha,” the pigeon-poop ploy
• Itinerant pickpockets from Romania. Men and women, often very skillful in their art. Within this group are the pickpockets who specialize in “Apple-picking,” or iPhone-grabbing.
• Occasional well-organized troupes from Poland, skillful and very experienced. They’re a small percentage of the pickpocketing population in Barcelona
You will notice that we have not yet listed any local residents. It appears that over ninety percent of pickpockets in Barcelona are from other parts of Europe (or the world).
02B- How would you describe the response by authorities, including police forces, etc?
BA- I have always wondered why tourism organizations and politicians never combined forces and tackled the crime reputation that Barcelona gradually gained. The city has a very poor reputation that lingers to this day.
02B- In that case, what would you advise them to do to tackle the issue?
BA- I believe with absolute confidence that the police divisions working the Barcelona street crime detail know exactly who the culprits are, and they could quite easily apprehend the majority, and either expel or lock them up.
But it’s not that easy. It’s the judicial system we’re talking about and the expense of sentences. For a start, I would have a long session with the police chiefs and their superiors about morale and attitude toward tourists reporting crime. I’d like to see more compassion from the officers, more detail-oriented report forms, more translators, and a system that measures behavior of police officers who come in contact with tourists. Also needed: an independent commission that looks at all facets of Barcelona street crime, and which then reports back to the political powers.
For example, a pickpocket (in Paris) who has one arrest record, can be apprehended and prosecuted if they behave as if they are going to to steal from a victim.
Lovely La Rambla, Barcelona
02B- Which would be the main techniques?
BA- Depending on the nationality of the perpetrator, the techniques vary.
• First and foremost, opportunity theft when a victim does not protect his belongings. For example, she places her handbag on the floor in a restaurant without realizing that the entire bag can be pulled away from below.
• Pickpockets sandwiching victims at door entrances in the metro during rush hours.
• Thieves working clubs and restaurants who especially target the elderly (who are gullible or less mobile), and also the youth (in their late teen years or early twenties) who are still trusting, not yet cynical, and easy to distract. These thieves also work at big club events and concerts.
• The classic “pigeon poop” smear. A gooey mess is applied onto the innocent victim and then, a minute later, the pickpocket approaches the victim and volunteers to help clean it off. In the process, the pickpocket can invade pockets while distracting with cleaning the spot. It is more prevalent in Barcelona than elsewhere.
• Luggage thieves. Tourists arrive at a hotel and unload their bags from a car, leaving a small backpack or laptop case unguarded. While the bags are unattended, thieves speed by on a scooter, snag the laptop case, and speed off.
• Shoulder-surfing, in which the thief watches the cash machine-user from a distance to learn his PIN. The target is then followed until the thief gets (or creates) an opportunity to steal the bank card.
02B- What differences, if any, has the pickpocket community in Barcelona with similar major capitals around the globe?
BA- Most of Barcelona’s pickpockets are opportunists; fewer are very skillful ones. It’s a volume operation at the lower end, because Barcelona is so packed with visitors seven months of the year.
02B- How has the recession affected the pickpocket scene?
BA- Not much. They may have to steal an extra wallet or two to get the money they need.
Pickpocketing is inherent of large crowds, and so is on the type of tourists who visit Barcelona -some gullible, some young. Since Barcelona is such a desirable destination, many visitors are new to travel and naive.
02B- What are your future projects as an expert in this field?
BA- Since my National Geographic film, Pickpocket King, was released two years ago, I am less effective infiltrating or establishing rapport with thieves. But I am able to work closely with many law enforcement agencies across Europe, training and discussing policies. It is my strong belief that the best way to reduce diversion theft is to educate the public and make them aware of the basic techniques of thievery. With a few basic precautionary rules we can reduce this Barcelona street crime by more than half.
An employee’s personal phone left unattended in a shop.
Thieves simply walk into stores and steal the unattended personal devices belonging to employees. This is Courtney’s report from Manhattan last month. She works in a furniture store.
Easy Stealing
So get this!!!
I come into work and get settled. My manager is in the back of store fixing a leg on a piece of furniture, and this scruffy guy comes into the store. He starts looking around at prices and asking me questions in very broken English and a little Spanish. I am trying to communicate with him in Spanish the best I can. It appeared he was pretending to be on his cellphone and having a conversation, but something seemed strange.
I bring over the store calculator to show him the price I typed in of each piece he was interested in. He then points at two chairs at the front of the store. I am a bit confused so I walk over there and as I do he takes my iPhone off my desk and walks towards the front of store and he says he wants the lounge chair for $1,200 and he will be back. He rapidly exited the store and down the street. Fucker stole my iPhone!!
He had papers in his hand that he left behind. I called the store across the street and the manager said he knew exactly who I was speaking of. The same guy had stolen his phone, iPad, and laptop a few months ago and it was the same situation! The manager from the other store brought over their security video footage and showed the police who took my report.
Wait—I’m not saying that all baggage handlers are thieves—of course not. But when you put low-paid workers alone with the belongings of the privileged (those who can afford to fly), things are gonna go missing—sometimes.
We’ve all read the frequent reports of luggage theft at airports: by TSA, by airport baggage handlers, by airline employees, by outsiders entering baggage claim areas. When our luggage is out of our personal control it’s at risk. When we check it, when we send it through TSA checkpoints, when we put it in the overhead storage bins on planes, the risk of theft is there in some degree. There’s little we can do about it—but not nothing.
6 luggage security rules
I travel a lot* so I will use myself as a model from which you can modify to suit your style and habit. I travel with three bags: a large one which I check; a roll-on which I expect to take on the plane with me, and a shoulder bag which is always with me, no matter what.
1. The more valuable the item, the smaller the bag it travels in. Cash, jewelry, laptop, smartphone, passports, and keys go into my shoulder bag. I don’t leave this bag anywhere or entrust it to anyone. I alone am responsible for its safety and security.
2. Other valuable and necessary items go into the roll-on. The airlines have trained us: do not put valuables into your checked luggage. Their responsibility is limited. Checked bags do not always show up when and where they should, so the minimal things I must have in order to do my job (and enjoy my trip) go into the roll-on, along with valuables too bulky, heavy or secondary for my shoulder bag. Examples: paperwork, camera, backup hard drive, appropriate work clothes and shoes, computer power cord and plug adapters, and the minimal items necessary for a hotel overnight.
3. Be prepared to hand over your roll-on. Every once in a while I have to part with the roll-on, for example on a small plane where it must be checked or given up at the jetway. Therefore, I also keep a lightweight folded nylon tote in my roll-on. That way I can remove and hand carry some items I may want or need; my computer power cord, hard drive, papers I’m working with. I also carry a small supply of plastic cable locks in case I want to secure the roll-on’s zippers. Not that locking zippers is foolproof, but it’s a deterrent. Better than nothing.
On the left: Bob’s rig. A strip of white tape is just a spare piece, used to secure checked bags. On the right: Bambi’s set-up. Not aluminum, but still like new after five years of hard use.
4. Roll-on with security OR convenience. My roll-on is full of outside pockets for convenience, and big enough to fold in a suit or dress on a hanger. Bob’s is a lockable aluminum hardshell—very secure but sacrificing convenience. See He Packs, She Packs. I appreciate the convenience of my bag much more often than I miss the security of one like Bob’s. However, one single theft from my roll-on would probably turn that preference upside-down. Security and convenience are always a trade-off.
5. Choose your checked luggage with security in mind. At least think about the security of your checked bag. On its route through the airport, through security screening, onto luggage cars, as it’s loaded onto the plane and packed into the cargo hold, as it changes planes, and finally reverses these steps, it will be handled by dozens of employees. Most of these people are trustworthy; much of this time your bag will be in view of many workers, supervisors, and surveillance cameras. But sometimes your bag will be handled by a rotten egg—perhaps in a dark space without witnesses.
If that rotten egg—that thief—has a free moment to poach from a bag, which bag will it be? Firstly, it will be a bag that happens to be near him (or her) at the opportune moment—happenstance. Secondly, it will be the easiest to get into. Zip, plunge in the hand, grapple, grab, stash, and on to the next bag. Fast-fishing-treasure-hunt.
So, how does your bag fasten? Latches? Zipper? TSA locks? Luggage belt? Cable ties? Plastic wrap? As with pickpocketing, longer access time means more security (and less convenience—there’s that compromise again). I’m concerned enough to affix duct tape to the entire seam of my hard sided case—always. It’s ugly, for sure. But it doesn’t take long to put on and seems to be a good deterrent. So far, so good.
We’ve all seen those videos showing how to open a zipper with a ballpoint pen (here’s one, below). How often is that method used by luggage thieves? I don’t know… but I’ve seen enough exploded bags on the carousel to be afraid of zippers anyway, at least without an added bag strap or luggage belt. Addressing both those zipper threats, Delsey makes luggage with a supposedly secure zipper that has two rows of teeth. I haven’t tried it.
Sure you want to trust luggage with zippers?Delsey makes luggage with a double zipper.
Locking the zipper tabs together with a padlock or ziptie may be of some help, but it’s nothing for a determined thief to twist off a zipper tab. (Or to plunge a blade right through the canvas. But we can’t be that paranoid.) Put the lock or ties through the zipper loops, if they exist, instead of through the pull-tabs.
As my readers know, Bob and I prefer hard-sided luggage. We use aluminum bags. They’re heavy and expensive but, as I’ve said, we travel a lot. Honestly, they’re not for everyone. We do recommend hard-sided luggage though; if not aluminum, one of the new polycarbonate materials.
The airport baggage handlers exposed in this week’s ring did not require secret spaces or privacy. Apparently, they were opening and searching bags at large sorting platforms, presumably in full view of other workers. This concerns me, but is nothing new. When TSA security officer Pythias Brown was arrested a few years ago for stealing from passengers’ luggage, he described the airports’ culture of theft. “It was very convenient to steal,” he said, “It became so easy, I got complacent.”
The airport baggage handlers exposed in this week’s ring are not alone. Individuals and groups continue to pilfer at LAX and other airports. The world will always have thieves. Luggage security is nonexistent. Therefore:
6. Pack as if your bag will be rifled. Conventional Wisdom tells us to leave at home whatever we can’t bear to lose. I don’t know if Conventional Wisdom has ever lived a life. For the most part, this is impractical advice. Many situations call for travel with precious and/or valuable things, and sometimes we have to check those things and hope for the best.
There’s an argument for using the best luggage available, despite it being pricey and conspicuous. There’s an argument for using unremarkable low-end luggage, even if it means replacing the bags frequently. In terms of luggage security, both theories have their merits. Do luggage thieves prefer to plunder Louis Vuitton and Tumi bags? Do they loot whatever bag presents an opportunity at the right moment, regardless of brand and condition? Since I believe both situations exist, I prefer to make mine just a little harder to open, crossing my fingers that the thieves will loot a more accessible suitcase.
*Bob Arno and I have been on the road around the world approximately 250 days per year for the past twenty years without respite.
Carving on a snack cart.Guatemala City corn-on-the-cob with condimentsGuatemala City corn-on-the-cob with condimentsGuatemala City women at Parque CentralWoven cotton for sale at Guatemala City’s Parque CentralTostadas for sale in Parque Central, Guatemala CityTostada-maker, Guatemala CityStrawberry cake, Guatemala CityLet a bird select your destiny in Parque Central, Guatemala City
Parque Central
Before I speak about the horrendous street crime in Guatemala City, I’d like to dwell on the pleasant aspects of the city. We spent Sunday afternoon in Parque Central. It was teeming with people and not a gringo in sight. Lots and lots of children, and women everywhere breastfeeding babies without prudish concerns.
If I felt like a giant among little people, how must Bob have felt, at six feet five? The Mayan women, all under five feet tall, looked so elegant with their long, glossy, black hair and colorful dresses.
I was entranced by the gorgeous woven cotton that all the Mayan women wear. Not dresses, they are sarongs fastened with a belt over tucked-in matching blouses. I wanted to buy a length of the fabric but was shocked that the opening price at each stall I visited was US$150. This was not a credit card type of market and, since our mission was thiefhunting, I had very little cash. It’s just as well—I would have had an impossible time selecting just one of the colorful patterns.
Surrounding the fabric stalls, everything else was for sale, too: bootleg DVDs, heaps of clothes piled on spread-out blankets, hair-do contraptions, inflatable Spidermen, jewelry, toys, underwear, earphones, puppies, remotes, and, thankfully, wallets. Our prop wallet was stolen for good—a rare occurrence, as we almost always manage to get it back after a theft.
And what’s a market without food? Boys at wooden carts worked with giant machetes preparing coconuts to drink. There were mountains of peanuts, trays of white, spiral-peeled oranges, flabby chicken sputtering on charcoal grills, and festive corn-on-the-cob-with-complicated-condiments. The tostadas looked mouth-wateringly good; the fly-specked strawberry cake did not.
A boy sat behind four bathroom scales lined up on a cloth that marked his territory. A few coins were arrayed on the cloth, too. Why four scales? Was the boy often busy with simultaneous customers? Does a customer flip a coin to select one of the scales? Or take an average weight of the four?
Other questions arise for the men whose birds will select your destiny. Are the tiny printed fortunes marked? If you pay more, can you be sure the bird is given only good futures to choose from? Are there any bad ones?
Street Crime in Guatemala City
Parque Central is a quaint and charming sliver of Guatemala City, but violence lurks in its very shadows. I’ve already written of our own experience with pickpockets there; no potential visitor should be unaware of the serious warnings about the country’s crime scene. On February 1, 2014, about the time we visited, Wikitravel’s Guatemala Travel Guide said (among many warnings):
Guatemala has one of the highest rates of violent crime in the world. Guatemala experiences much violence; its citizens live in a world of violence and tourists will be no different. Use extreme caution if traveling to Guatemala. … If you are mugged, carjacked, or approached by armed individuals, cooperate. Do not make any sudden movements, and give whatever belongings or money that are demanded. Citizens and tourists have been shot and killed for resisting muggers. … Do not use buses at night in Guatemala City, as buses are frequently robbed by gangs.
Theft, armed robbery, and carjacking are the most common problems encountered by American citizens. No area is immune to daytime assaults, including the upscale shopping, tourist, and residential areas of zones 10, 14, 15, and 16 in Guatemala City. There have been numerous reported incidents of bank patrons being robbed outside banks after withdrawing large sums of money, suggesting possible complicity of bank personnel on the inside. A particularly troubling trend is the use of motorcycles for armed robbery. Typically, two men on a motorcycle accost the driver of a car and demand the driver’s cell phone. Armed robberies to steal a cell phone have turned violent. In May 2009, a new law mandated that only the operator is allowed on the motorcycle.
The report goes on to describe highway robberies perpetrated by uniformed police or pseudo cops; the rising threat of robberies from occupied vehicles, including those stopped at traffic lights; armed security guards who exist “for decoration only;” violent bus bandits; and carjacking, even on main roads in broad daylight. The report also warns arriving visitors:
Minimize time spent standing outside in the airport passenger pick-up area, and do not walk out of the airport with valuables in plain sight. Carry laptops inconspicuously.
I shudder to think of my mistakes, though they were unavoidable. Our scheduled driver did not show up at the airport. We waited 40 minutes in total “outside in the airport passenger pick-up area.” We were not allowed back inside the airport to look for assistance or official transportation options. Therefore, in full view of many gawkers, I had to take out my laptop “conspicuously”—a massive 17” MacBookPro—to find the phone number of our Guatemala City contact. I should have had it available on paper. Instead, I was forced to flaunt my valuables.
Persons carrying laptop computers and expensive cell phones are often targets for armed robberies. Visitors should avoid using a laptop in a public place, such as a cafe…
…or airport pick-up zone. Had I only read this before my arrival! No, we weren’t robbed, but that might only be due to our very early morning arrival. We got into a hotel shuttle which, according to reports, is just as prone to armed attacks as anything:
Private vehicles, taxis, and shuttle buses have all been targeted. Typically, assailants steal money, passports, and luggage, and in some cases, the vehicle as well.
We were safely dropped at our hotel where, after a nap, we began our research of street crime in Guatemala City. Of course it would have been wiser to read up beforehand, but our hectic travel schedule doesn’t always permit such luxuries (reading about every destination before arrival).
Visitors should avoid using a laptop in a public place, such as a cafe or in wireless zones. Areas that offer wi-fi computer services have been targeted. Several individuals have been killed and their laptops taken upon departure from these establishments after they were seen using their computers in public.
Had our hotel not had decent internet access, it’s very likely that we’d have taken our laptops out to find wifi elsewhere. I can just imagine reading the quote above (from the U.S. Department of State on Guatemala), not to mention the rest of the warnings, most of which I have not mentioned, while sitting in a Guatemala City cafe with wifi. I’d be petrified to leave!
One of the first (horrific) statistic-riddled reports I read, “Guatemala: Violence perpetrated by criminal gangs…” published by the Immigration and Refugee Board of Canada, focused on violence by criminal gangs. 183 bus drivers were assassinated in 2010 for refusing to pay gangsters’ “protection fees,” and these numbers have continued. Ninety-some percent of crime goes unpunished (depending on whose figures you read). There are said to be 14,000 gang members in the country and most communities are affected.
No wonder the police are ineffective. Many are not even high school graduates, their training may be as short as six months, and they get a salary of under $600/month. Bribes are a way of life. Drug cartels have pretty much taken over the country.
We met two 50ish British women in our hotel lobby. They’d come to Guatemala City to learn Spanish, unaware of the crime scene. They learned quickly though, and by following the rules had no incidents. They carried nothing at all of value. No purses or handbags or cameras. They stayed together. They didn’t go out at night. They avoided the known danger zones. They only used taxis from the hotel; they did not flag cabs in the street.
Our visit to Guatemala City reminded me of the importance of research before travel, even if you only read a little. Because don’t we all read up on the weather, the restaurants, nightlife and attractions? Let’s not forget to seek out crime and safety reports, too. The U.S. Department of State maintains excellent, current reports.
The Mysterious Case of the Uninvited Hotel Room Night Visitors
“UNBELIEVABLE!” our friend Donny said when we unexpectedly met in the morning. “Bizarre! I must have had ghosts in my hotel room last night!”
Though we hadn’t seen him in more than a year, nothing mattered but last night’s hotel experience. Donny was beside himself. It was twilight zone.
Two of my favorite things when traveling:
1. Being invited to dinner at someone’s home (rare).
2. The unplanned meeting of friends from elsewhere (more common).
Bob and I were staying at an exceptional hotel in Guatemala City, the near-perfect Westin Camino Real. Donny was staying elsewhere. His story tumbled out.
He’d checked into his hotel late the night before after a long flight. He went up to his room and, without much messing around, went soon to sleep.
In the morning, he found:
• A broken glass on the floor;
• One shard of glass in the trashcan;
• A small towel on the floor;
• Two empty soda cans moved from the desk to the bathroom;
• His Kindle still plugged into the extension outlet, but:
• The extension cord now unplugged and stretched across the floor in a perfectly straight line.
Uh, huh, I teased, it was the woman you brought up with you! Donny wasn’t in a humorous mood. He was truly mystified. Ghosts were the only explanation he could think of. He was spooked.
You drank too much, I tried. Did you drink on the plane?
“I had a drink in the lobby,” Donny recalled. A welcome drink. “But I’m a drinker,” he said, “a drink is nothing for me. That’s not it.”
Hmmm, a drink in the lobby. What kind of hotel was it?
I’m going to say that Donny’s drink was drugged. Possibly with scopolamine, aka Devil’s Breath. It was an inside job. After Donny collapsed in bed (without washing up, I note), an employee with a key entered the room and searched for cash. The would-be robber knew how long the drug would take to knock Donny out and when he could safely enter the room.
Donny’s wallet was in his pants pocket, and the pants were on a chair. The wallet was searched and replaced—Donny had traveled without cash. No credit cards were taken. Nothing from his suitcases. His perp was looking for cash, and only cash. In Guatemala, the average monthly salary is less than $300. Had something obvious been taken, Donny’s Kindle, for example, there would have been accusations and immediate trouble. Cash… who’d notice?
Let’s say Donny’s drink was spiked. The thief had done this before and knew how soon he could enter. He rummaged through Donny’s wallet, then bumped into the desk, knocking over the two drink cans and the glass. He glances at Donny, who’s out cold. He picks up the two cans and a big shard of glass and takes them into the bathroom, where he grabs a face towel, intending to sweep up the glass and soda dribbles. But he hears something—Donny stirs, or maybe he hears a colleague in the hall. He freezes, then flees.
The only puzzle remaining is the electric cord. Donny had bent under the desk to plug his Kindle into the multi-outlet extension cord that was on the floor. He stood and placed his Kindle on the desk, and noticed that it wasn’t charging. He bent again and flipped a switch on the extension cord, confirmed that the Kindle was charging, and left it.
Also, the Kindle had not charged more than 10% or so, meaning the plug had been pulled shortly after Donny fell asleep.
Donny did not wake up groggy or foggy-headed. He noticed the broken glass, missing soda cans, and towel right away. His thought process was as follows: Did I do that? No, I did not do that. Was someone in here? No, I would have woken up. WTF? A ghost?
Since nothing seemed to be missing and he had an early checkout, Donny did not mention the mystery to the hotel staff. Anyway, he’s not a confrontational type. Also, any hotel can find itself with a rogue employee.
My drink-drugging theory was novel to him, but a better hypothesis than ghosts, which had been all he’d come up with. Anyone else have a theory? Or some possible logic about that extension cord?
The pickpocket in Guatemala City who stole our wallet for good.
Almost gone for good, finally. Our lucky wallet, our favorite thief-bait, would have been stolen in Guatemala City by a stone-faced woman backed by two accomplices, had we not, at the last minute, swapped it for a “regular” prop wallet.
Our lucky red leather prop wallet has been stolen more than a hundred times—close to 150 times—and we’ve always gotten it back. Usually we confront the thief and he/she hands it over or drops it on the ground. Sometimes Bob Arno steals it back. The thief who emptied Bob’s pocket in Guatemala City held her ground. We didn’t get the wallet back.
Then again, it wasn’t our lucky wallet. Perhaps if she’d stolen that one, she would have given it back. We’ll never know.
A huge audience surrounding street performers fills the street and creates a bottleneck. Pedestrians must squeeze slowly behind the crowd against the wall.
As we were heading out on a thiefhunting expedition in new territory, we did a little research. Yikes! Guatemala City is dangerous! Crime rates are astronomical (99.5 murders per week! 143,000 cell phones stolen (with force) in 2012!). The Westin Camino Real Hotel staff told us that more than ten of their guests are mugged every month. Presumably, other hotels have similar rates.
So it was with extra caution and trepidation that we ventured out. And we left our lucky wallet in the hotel.
Guatemala City pickpockets
After meandering around Guatemala City’s photogenic Sunday market in Parque Central, we strayed a bit and found ourselves on Calle Real, a busy pedestrian shopping street. Several street performers had gathered huge crowds which filled the street, like the one pictured above. To pass, we had to slither slowly along the green fence, pushing against the spectators.
This boy is an accomplice to our pickpocket. Remember his plaid shirt so you can spot him in other pictures.
That’s a long bottleneck—a choke point—in other words, pickpocket paradise. Why? Your progress is slow, giving the pickpockets all the time they need to get into position, find your valuables, and extract them. You’re experiencing physical contact with strangers on all sides, so you don’t suspect the pickpocket’s touch. The crowd is so tight that no one can witness the thief’s dirty work. And when the steal is complete, the perps can meld invisibly into the crowd.
Bob and I dove into the bottleneck. We let the crowd move us along, bump us left and right, feel us up. Negotiating the long passageway was like burrowing through a two-way tunnel of human bumper-cars. We emerged intact.
As we reached the next block, we saw a similar crowd. It, too, filled the street right up to the buildings. As we approached, this boy (at right) in plaid came around from behind us.
Plaid Boy and his partner, the woman with the black sweater “toreador-style.”
The boy glanced at us, then at his partner, a woman who could be his mother, who came around from the other side of us. The two joined up as they continued slowly along the street.
The pickpocket’s two accomplices get into position.
They were suspects immediately. The boy wore a messenger bag—typical of many pickpockets, but of course not exclusive to them. The woman’s sweater was draped “toreador-style” over one shoulder, also a common pickpocket M.O. The woman also carried a large purse which gaped open in the back. Then there were their frequent furtive glances at us. We were sure they were part of a pickpocket team, but we didn’t know their roles. Either one could have been (and perhaps sometimes is) the “dip.”
The pickpocket’s two accomplices wait for us.
The woman and boy arranged themselves in front of us as we neared the bottleneck. We paused to see what they’d do. They paused. Uh huh. They hung back against the wall, both taking quick glances to see if we were on our way—if their prey was on track.
The woman constantly fiddled with her eyeglass case. A nervous habit? Or a signal?
Bob went forward and the two suspects placed themselves directly in front of him. They were performing as blockers. They would delay their mark—their target—slowing down our progress, allowing the pickpocket time to find and extract our wallet.
Pickpocket positions
Preparing for action, Ms. Accomplice removed her black sweater. I fell into place behind Bob, allowing a little distance between us. If there were a pickpocket in the vicinity, and we felt certain there was, Bob’s pocket would have to be accessible—not protected by me.
These two women are also pickpockets. Here they check the pocket of our plaid boy, not realizing that he’s part of another pickpocket team.
Bob paused in the middle of the narrow passage, forcing the accomplices also to stop and wait innocently. The boy pretended to watch the street performer. The woman fiddled with her glass case.
Two women squeezed past from the opposite direction. Surprise, they were also pickpockets! They didn’t recognize our team as thieves. You can see the first woman brush the hip pocket of our boy. The second woman bent her head low to look at his pocket as she passed.
The short female pickpocket gets in position behind Bob. The accomplice is ahead of them, her gapey purse ready for a deposit.
Now our pickpocket took up her position behind Bob. I got behind her with my video camera running. She’s very short—her face not much higher than Bob’s waist. In the photo below, notice the parade of actors in this perfect choreography: the victim (Bob) is sandwiched between the pickpocket and accomplices, one of whom can “hold” (the stolen goods) and one or both can “block” (impede the victim’s progress, slow him down). Classic!
In front of the pickpocket, who clutches a striped shirt to cover her moves, you can see Bob’s white shirt, the plaid boy accomplice’s shirt, and the woman accomplice’s big white satchel.
The pickpocket unfurled a wadded shirt she carried, which we consider a tool. The purpose of the shirt (striped) was to hide what her hands were doing. She worked very slowly on Bob’s wallet. While Bob walked and filmed, he concentrated his attention on the sensitive skin over his right gluteus maximus. The pickpocket gently rocked the wallet, zigzagging it up and out of Bob’s pocket.
Bob feels for his missing wallet while holding his camera high and aimed at the perp. You can see Bambi following behind, also filming.
As soon as she got the wallet, she scooted away from the scene of the crime and hurried to catch up with the female accomplice. Bob had to feel his pocket to be sure the wallet was really gone.
With the wadded shirt as a shield, the pickpocket drops the plunder into the waiting bag of her accomplice.
The pickpocket darted straight to her partner, again using the striped shirt as a cover to conceal Bob’s red wallet. She slipped the wallet into her partner’s shoulder bag, which gaped open, ready to accept the loot.
The pickpocket and her accomplice revamp after a successful steal.
Wallet stolen and stowed, the two women rearranged their props. The pickpocket folded her spare shirt and wrapped it around the strap of her shoulder bag. The shoulder bag was replaced and adjusted. The accomplice re-covered her satchel with her big black sweater.
Pickpocket plays dumb: “Who me? What did I do?”
Bob stepped in with his usual courtesy, asking madame if he could please have his wallet back. The thief gave him a dumb stare. He tried a mixture of languages to no avail. He invoked “policia,” hoping that the accomplice would drop the wallet onto the ground. Nope.
Indignant pickpocket: “Unhand me, sir!” The accomplice madly flips her glass case, which contains some sort of papers.
Bob grabbed the pickpocket as she turned to go. Strangely, the accomplice, who stayed close, opened her big purse as if to produce the wallet, but didn’t remove anything. She did this over and over, sometimes alternating with glass case fiddling. Again: nerves, or signals? The boy accomplice disappeared. Perhaps to get assistance? We don’t think the female accomplice passed the wallet to the boy, but it’s remotely possible.
Bob blatantly films the pickpocket encounter.
Bob and I continued to film openly as our confrontation escalated. Bob’s tiny camera, the fabulous GoPro Hero3+ Black Edition, doesn’t really look like a camera. Its wide angle lens is fantastic up close, though of course there’s a bit of distortion. But even frame grabs are sharp—sharper than those from my Sony RX100. All these images are frame grabs from our videos.
The stonefaced pickpocket is adamant. Her accomplice seems to be a nervous wreck, opening and closing her bag, then her glass case.
We stood on the edge of the street entertainers’ crowd on the opposite side of the street, where there was another bottleneck passageway between audience and buildings. Quickly, a crowd gathered around our encounter. Our show was better than the street dancers’.
Done with us, the pickpocket pushes her way through the crows.
The crowd found something amusing. Was it that we made an issue of an everyday occurrence? Was it the futility of accusing the thief? Something someone said in Spanish? Or simply Bob’s height? Bob’s height was amusing—he was a giant in a land of short people.
The fed-up pickpocket whacks Bambi’s camera.
The pickpocket finally had enough of our accusations and stormed off through the crowd. We followed her through the bottleneck and out the other side. Bob continued to demand his wallet back, trying to provoke a response. When she turned down a side street, Bob lingered a moment with a couple of police officers. I followed along beside the escaping thief, my camera still running. I’d been filming the entire time—which was actually only a few minutes.
Suddenly, the woman whacked my camera! It flew out of my hand but luckily, I had it on a tight strap around my wrist so it swung wildly but didn’t fall. I abandoned the chase to look at my camera. It was dead. Dark screen. I’d never stopped recording, so the footage was never saved to the chip. I turned it off, then on, and lo! It gave me an option to recover unsaved video! Yes!
It recovered about the first two-thirds of the shoot. Nothing after I turned the corner. Not the potentially great shot of the pickpocket attacking my camera and ending the scene with a dramatic blackout. But I got enough. Great camera, this Sony RX100.
Two armed police officers take up the chase.
Meanwhile, Bob had snagged two armed police officers who seemed excited to take up the chase. Together, we ran down the street. But the pickpocket had disappeared. She could have ducked into any of the little bars or bodegas lining the street. Chuckling silently about the thieves’ disappointment when they found our wallet totally empty, we gave up. We needed to return to the scene to shoot a little more video. We had only another half hour of daylight, and this was one city we knew not to linger in after dark.
An American soldier assigned to protect the U.S. Embassy in Guatemala City told us just how rough the city is. He said that no new embassy personnel are allowed to go out at all until they have been briefed. They’re told how to behave, how to dress, what not to carry: wear no jewelry, no branded hats or clothing, dress down. Flashing an iPhone or iPad definitely invites mugging. Some zones of the city can only be visited in groups of two or more persons. Other zones are not to be visited at all. Curfew is midnight.
Guatemala City is a place where security must be taken seriously. Be certain your hotel is reputable. (We believe our friend was drugged at his hotel, and his room ransacked while he slept. Story coming soon.) Use taxis from your hotel, and arrange for the drivers to wait or return for you. Do not flag down a taxi in the street. If you go exploring, use all Thiefhunters’ advice in Pocketology 101 and Purseology 101.
