greece – Pickpocket Bob Arno

Pickpockets on trains

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.

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’ 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.

Excerpt from Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams
Chapter Six: Public Transportation—Talk About Risky…

A Pickpocket in Athens “kicks the poke”

The moments you’re boarding public transportation are your riskiest in the world of pickpocketry. A pickpocket in Athens shows us just how slick, and how fast, he can get your wallet.

Victim accuses pickpocket in Athens on train. — Victim accuses pickpocket on train in Athens.

Here’s a pickpocket technique we saw but didn’t see. We were riding the green line in sweltering Athens. A woman in a yellow shirt and her male pal were already on the train when Bob and I boarded. They moved aside, making it easier for us to get on, then sandwiched Bob, separating me away. The male wore a t-shirt which proclaimed “generation (picture of a dog) free.” He pressed a flaccid shoulder-bag against Bob’s pants pocket while his partner tried to get Bob’s prop wallet.

“That was good,” Bob said to me in Swedish, our code-speak, because we assume few people understand it. “She tried but didn’t get it.” Probably because Bob’s pocket was pretty deep. We don’t want to make it too easy for them.

A pickpocket in Athens

Giving up, Dog Free hung his bag on his shoulder and inched away innocently, riding in sweaty silence. As the train approached Omonia station, he readied himself for another attempt.

A Greek gentleman boarded. Yellow and Dog Free, still on the train, blocked his way.

Pickpocket's accomplice. Pickpocket in Athens. — Pickpocket’s accomplice.

“Excuse me,” the Greek man said. “Let me get by.”

Yellow and Dog Free slid around behind him. Yellow flashed a flat parcel down low. Amid the confusion, I saw a hand briefly grip a pocket. In the swirl of people, I couldn’t identify whose hand it was, or even whose pocket. I was holding a camera low, blindly aiming at the known thief’s hands. Bob held his camera near the ceiling, pointing down.

The train hadn’t left yet. Dog Free pushed himself through the crowd with Yellow close behind. He stepped off the train, but the Greek was quick. He grabbed Dog Free’s wrist, pulling him back onto the train. Yellow walked.

“Come here!” the victim said in Greek.

“What do you want, mister?”

“You took my wallet!”

“What did I take?” Dog Free said. “You’re out of your mind. Search me! Look, look!”

The victim groped desperately in his empty pocket and released Dog Free. The thief left, the doors slammed shut, and the train departed.

Victim accuses pickpocket in Athens, while accomplice (in yellow) slips away—probably with the victim's wallet. — Victim accuses pickpocket, while accomplice (in yellow) slips away—probably with the victim’s wallet.

“Did he get your wallet?” we asked. “Portofoli?”

“Yes, he got it. I wasn’t sure if it was him or not, not a hundred percent.”

We asked the victim if he’d like us to go to the police with him, that we thought we might have the steal on film, and we certainly had the faces of the thieves. But no, he didn’t want to.

“He didn’t get a lot of money. I had only 20 euros.” (About $27.)

“What did he say?”

“He said he didn’t do it.” The Greek threw up his hands.

Sweaty and spent, we retreated to a shady streetside café in the Plaka to have a light lunch and review our footage. Over tzadziki and flat bread and cold fried eggplant, we unwound, cooled off, and rewound our cameras. Hunched over our tiny screens, we scrutinized the video.

Everything was there: Yellow, and Dog Free, the Greek victim boarding. You can’t take for granted that it will be, when shooting from the hip. And we make plenty of camera mistakes in moments of high tension or excitement. We pressed play on the other camera. Sipping retsina, we held our breath through shaky minutes of feet, unidentifiable body parts, then noisy confusion.

From video shot in low light, fast motion, shot from the hip. But we got the pickpocket's hand in the victim's pocket. Pickpocket in Athens — From video shot in low light, fast motion, shot from the hip. But we got the pickpocket’s hand in the victim’s pocket.

Pickpocket in Athens “kicks the poke”

And there it was, clear and close up. It took exactly a second and a half. Yellow positioned a flat parcel as a shield while Dog Free used both hands on the right front pants pocket of the Greek. His right hand pushed the wallet up from the outside of the fabric while his left reached only an inch into the pocket.

This is a technique dips call “kick the poke.” They raise it from the depths, or turn it into a better position for lifting. Dog Free neatly clipped the raised wallet between two fingers and let the Greek simply walk away from it. It happened so fast we didn’t see it—but our camera did.

What we can’t see, but most certainly happened, is Dog Free’s pass to Yellow. Dog Free pulled up his shirt and invited a search because he was clean: he’d given the wallet to Yellow, who escaped.

We call Dog Free’s special technique finesse. Thieves who use it have an edge, but they can be bested. They’re still opportunists. And we don’t have to give them the opportunity. We just need to be aware that they have tricks and techniques most of us wouldn’t dream of.

You think you’d feel it, but you could be wrong.

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

Athens greece pickpocket Thieves Travel Travel Advisory

Pickpocket steals from jacket on cafe chair

How a pickpocket steals from a jacket hung on the back of a restaurant chair.

A strategist thief is one who creates his own opportunity, one who operates on a specific plan, one who steals with malice aforethought. The lowest strata of these are not much more than glorified opportunists. To me, though (and these are my definitions), an opportunist with a clever enough scheme gets a strategist rating.

Take Yacine, a north African illegal immigrant thief who works in Athens, Greece.

“I have a favorite technique to use in restaurants,” he told us, “but it only works in winter, when men hang their jackets on the backs of their chairs. I could show you, but I don’t have a jacket, and you don’t have a jacket. No one has a jacket in Athens in the summer.” He hunched his shoulders, raised his palms.

“We’ll go buy one,” Bob Arno said, and we had Yacine lead us to a men’s shop. There followed a hilarious scene in which a pickpocket selects a sport coat based on an analysis of its array of pockets. When a suitable jacket was purchased, Yacine chose a quiet café for our demonstration. Two of his colleagues joined us for lunch first, during which a cell phone rang.

Harik, 28, illegally visiting from Albania, pulled a phone out of his pocket and put it on the table. Then another, and another. He had half a dozen cell phones on the table before he found the ringing one. It had been a lucrative morning for Harik. He opened the back of the phone and pulled out its SIM card. The ringing stopped. Harik tore the tiny chip into shreds.

(An aside: want to buy a cell phone in Athens? Hundreds of men stand packed in a pedestrian shopping lane in the Plaka area, each displaying a phone or two. If you show interest in a man’s wares, he’ll pull from his pockets his other offerings, up to a dozen phones.)

“The new jacket is yours, but I need a jacket also, for this method,” Yacine said as he set the scene. “I’ll use a shirt for the demonstration.”

Pickpocket steals from jacket on cafe chair

He arranged Bob and me in bentwood chairs at a café table and ordered Greek coffee for us. He settled himself at the next table. Then, back to back with Bob, hand behind his back but hidden between the jackets, he snagged the wallet. I was facing him and saw nothing suspicious.

“You be the victim, Bob. Here’s the jacket. Put some euros in your wallet, empty is no good. Now put it in the new jacket. I don’t care which pocket! That is never something I decide. Now hang the jacket on the back of your chair. Perfect. Now, please. Have a seat. Drink your coffee.

“I will take the seat behind you so we are back to back. I have this shirt in my backpack, which I can use to simulate a jacket. I’ll hang it on the back of my chair. Now Bob, here is the secret: I will readjust the chairs so they are not exactly back to back. I’ll slide mine a little left or a little right. It doesn’t matter which way.

“Look now. I’m sitting right behind you. Our jackets are back to back on our chairs. I just slip my hand behind me and into your jacket. I don’t turn around. I can feel the pockets and quickly remove the wallet. See?

pickpocket steals from jacket on cafe chair; Cash is stolen from a wallet in a jacket pocket, without removing the wallet. — Cash is stolen from a wallet in a jacket pocket, without removing the wallet.

“You think that’s good? Thank you. Put the wallet back and I’ll show you something better. This is my best take. I will get the money only. I will not take the wallet. Just the money from it. It’s the same technique, but it takes a few seconds longer. Look now, I’ve got it!

“When I do this, the man never even knows. He thinks he spent the money somewhere. Very good, no?”

Yacine is an opportunist because he needs a fool for a mark, someone who’s left himself open. But he works with a strategy that gives him an advantage over the ordinary opportunist, so he has a wider field of potential victims. He’s more dangerous than his lesser fellows because he succeeds within the perceived shelter of upscale commercial establishments. He also has grander conceits. Yacine’s ultimate goal is America.

Excerpt from Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams
Chapter Seven: Scams—By the Devious Strategist

Athens cafe greece pickpocket Restaurant Thieves Travel Advisory

Bus garden

When was the last time you were delighted by a public bus? This one, in Mykonos, did it for me. The driver had turned his domain into a garden with a dozen potted plants and three vases of flowers.

Among the basil, peppers, and marigolds, passengers planted feet with delicate precision while boarding. And if a leg should brush against the herbs, their fragrance, released, would waft throughout the bus. Throughout the front of the bus, at least.

The bus driver smiled permission when I gestured with my camera, and beamed when I included him in the frame. He obviously liked decoration; he was decked out in quite a bit of jewelry, adorned with every accessory a self-respecting Greek man of his age could get away with.

bus greece mykonos

Suckers, high and dry

A beheaded octopus drying in the Greek sun.

I can’t remember ever having eaten dried octopus, but I’m not saying I wouldn’t. There they were, looking festive, a row of fresh ones dangling decoratively from a boat’s rigging, like signal flags spelling out a message for dinner.

In Mykonos recently, on a long stroll along the shore, I saw these plump babies strung up, baking in the Greek sun. They had clearly protested their ignoble attachment to a laundry line, given that more than a few had clutched a lifeline with defiant fists.

A boat flies signal flags that spell out dinner.

The sticky-fingered cephalopods had received the ultimate capital punishment—beheading—and for what? Stealing bait? Like a lowlife pickpocket going for our prop wallets, except we throw them back.

Maybe they weren’t destined for food, I don’t know. I’m not one to look at tentacles and think mmm, succulent. There was no one to ask.

Me, I’d put light bulbs in them.

Food greece mykonos