Some things are better filtered. Water, for one. Do you like unfiltered sake? Apple juice? What about your internet?
I saw this sign in Malta. I didn’t use this free network.
I found Malta to be a pretty unpleasant place. It seems to have evolved as the epitome of cheap package tours touting sun and binge drinking.
Pickpocketing is rampant, especially in the nightclubs of Paceville and of course on the buses. We visited Senglea, Sliema, Paceville, St. Julians, and Valetta. The island has some interesting architecture but otherwise, you don’t have a single positive comment; and my mother taught me: If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.
Paceville: full of crumbling and never-finished structures. Smells of stale alcohol.
United begs its airport lounge customers to behave
Just wondering: what kind of clientele does United Airlines have? I mean, is it really necessary to place a formal request on each coffee table, telling its airport lounge guests to keep their feet off the furniture?
And the advance explanation, “As a courtesy,” as if anticipating the obvious follow-on question that surely comes from that feet-on-furniture breed, “why not?”—isn’t it a bit subtle?
Does United mean feet or shoes? Does it matter?
Are people really such pigs?
Is this what happens when lounge membership includes everyone who gets the first-year-no-annual-fee United-branded Visa card? (And is that why the lounges are so crowded?)
Survey: Do you put your shoes on the furniture at home?
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 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.
“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, 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 “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.
Almost all of the opportunist pickpocket’s dirty work is preventable. I agree, it’s not practical to live in preparation for the worst at any moment. Bob and I say, practice safety as a habit. Stash your valuables wisely, and try not to send signals that you’re worth a thief’s effort. Other, easier targets will always be there to tempt the opportunist. Don’t make him even glance at you. We say, forget the flashy jewelry when you’re out and about.
Fake jewelry doesn’t thwart pickpockets
“But this is a fake Rolex,” some say smugly. “I paid $20 for it in Miami.” No comment on the purchase of counterfeit goods, but do you really want to be mugged for a fake Rolex? Do you believe a criminal can tell the difference? Not even in Naples, where Rolex-robbing is as common as running red lights, can a thief tell before he’s got it.
“These are CZs,” women tell me, tugging on glittery boulders in their earlobes. “It won’t break me if I lose them.” Listen: losing the earrings is not the point. You’re sending a signal to anyone who cares to pay attention: “Look at me! Notice my wealth!” The one who tunes in may or may not want those CZs; he may decide to linger and observe and find your Achilles’ heel, the chink in your armor. It’s not coincidence when a bag is snatched in the one moment you look away. You’ve been stalked. Why? You are attractive. You are wealth.
Yes, you’ll look like a tourist
If you are a tourist, chances are you look like one. That’s not a put-down. We can’t possibly look like a local wherever we are [despite all the “experts” exhorting us to]. We don’t dress, act, or sound like the natives, even within regions of the United States. I’ll never forget the time Bob and I came back to the States after six months in Sweden.
MY take on a “dippie.” Nothing like the Orwigsburg version.
We flew straight to Orwigsburg, Pennsylvania, to do a private show. I had never felt like such an alien as I did in that town; and that thought had solidified long before a roadside breakfast at the “Family 3C’s” diner, where the perky little waitress asked “Where are you guys from?” with the unsaid ending: “space?” Was it because I asked for the definition of a “dippie,” a menu item with no description?
The big boss of our Orwigsburg client had described his employees, his “boys,” as backward and painfully shy. He said we’d think they seemed dumb, ignorant, but that they’re highly skilled at their individual jobs, good workers, loyal. At the party, Bob and I looked at all these beefy boys with their hefty wives, trying to figure out their lives and values. They didn’t look dumb; they looked innocent and close to the earth and less worldly than anyone we’d encountered in many years. Perhaps since we met the Masaai….
The event was held in a dismal lounge at a Quality Hotel. The pitiful effort at decorating (helium balloons rubbing against the low ceiling) matched the pathetic catering (macaroni salad, bbq chicken). This was the big party of their year! To be fair, I must add that the boss’s warmth and generosity toward them (and us) was impressive.
Culturally speaking, this was as fascinating an experience as any other exotic destination we’d visited. And on the positive side, we spoke the language. Somewhat, anyway. As always, I tried to pick up a little, so I can now order a “dippie” and expect an egg. But what would the Orwigsburgers think about being considered exotic, a fascinating study? I suspect we and the natives examined each other with the same dubious skepticism and sideways looks, like two isolated cats meeting for the first time.
Anyway, there we were in our own America and no doubt stuck out like two city-slickers in a dairy barn, similar to the time I showed up in Boyd, Texas for a show wearing New York black instead of dirty denim. Who knew? We didn’t mean to stand out—we just did.
The point is, most travelers can be seen as travelers, and a traveler is at a disadvantage. When we travel, we’re the foreigners. We’re outsiders, even if we don’t realize it. We don’t have street smarts, even if we do at home.
Dress down
Bob and I say, prepare yourself in advance. Travel light in order to travel confidently. Leave your shiny sparklers at home. On the road, lock up what you love. On your body, tuck them in. The idea is to enjoy your journey without worry.
Luggage self-check? There’s nothing new about self-checking in and getting boarding passes from an airport terminal. The KLM check-in machines at Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport were the best I’ve ever used.
Long rows of luggage self-check stations at Amsterdam’s Schiphol AirportOnscreen video demos make the procedure clearAnticipating that your hands are full, the machine even has a little shelf for your convenience.Answer the machine.The caged suitcase is tipped into a river of luggage.
This was the first time I’ve ever completely checked my own luggage. In fact, we didn’t speak with a human at all before our flight.
The luggage self-check machine was actually sort of fun to use. Instructions on the large screen were clear and simple. “Scan the barcode on your boarding pass” gets you started. Then it asks how many bags you’re checking, and tells you how to place your bag on the platform in the little luggage cave.
The machine spits out a bag tag and tells how to attach it. No need to peel off a backing; the label is ready to stick. The luggage self-check machine then waits for you to do as it has instructed.
Once you’ve confirmed that your bag tag has been attached, the machine swallows your luggage.
A gate rolls down, the luggage platform rises and rotates, the back wall slides up, and the suitcase is dumped onto a conveyor belt.
The luggage self-check process is repeated for each bag. Finally, the machine prints out a baggage receipt.
Unanswered: What happens with an overweight bag? How is the payment done?
It’s all very quick and efficient. There was no waiting when I used the system. The machine communicates clearly and politely, which is about the best we can hope for. You won’t get a rude or stupid bag-checker, but you won’t get a friendly one, either.
The Leaning Tower of Pisa on a beautiful summer day, as seen from behind a cherry vendor.
Pickpockets in Pisa are so active we don’t even have to go looking for them. They’re right there. Are they everywhere? It seems so!
We arrived by train, stepped out of the station, and filmed the growing crowd at the bus stop across the street where the “red” bus stops before going to the Leaning Tower.
By the time the light changed and we crossed the street, the bus had arrived. Everyone heading for the Leaning Tower mobbed the bus doors. We panned our camera across the scene and inadvertently filmed a pickpocketing-in-progress.
What we got on camera took six seconds. The victim was a Japanese woman on her way to board the bus. Her husband and four children were somewhat behind her.
This is the most common scenario. The pickpocket hits during the boarding, hoping that you’ll get on the bus and he/she won’t, putting instant distance between you and him/her.
In this case, the victim felt something—she wasn’t sure what—so didn’t board.
Before the theft: three of the victim’s children are standing at left.
Pickpockets in Pisa
The pickpockets were a girl and a woman. They crowded in behind the Japanese victim, who felt something and momentarily clutched her bag. At this point, analyzing the movements of the thieves on the video we got, we can only infer that the older woman dipped into the victim’s gaping shoulder bag, took the wallet, and extracted the cash from it. The victim whipped around as the pickpockets strolled away with exaggerated nonchalance. The victim hadn’t identified who the thieves were—or if there were thieves at all.
The pickpocket, in blue t-shirt, moves in behind her victim, who is about to board the bus. You can barely see the victim in the pink dress. The victim’s son is in glasses, upper left.The pickpocket’s accomplice (and perhaps her daughter) is in pink tights and plaid shirt. She moves in behind the blue shirted pickpocket.The victim (in pink) looks around as the two thieves (at left) cooly saunter away.
“Did they steal from you?” Bob asked, still filming.
The victim was utterly baffled. The thieves had taken her wallet, extracted all the cash, and returned the wallet.
“Why would they return it,” she wondered. She repeatedly opened her wallet to inspect the contents in disbelief. The bus departed while she and her family huddled, trying to understand what had just happened.
The victim takes inventory of her wallet as her family watches.
The victim said she had just purchased bus tickets for her family, and therefore knew that she’d had about a hundred euros. She said that that was the reason she hadn’t yet zipped her bag closed.
So why would the pickpocket return the victim’s wallet with all its credit cards and ID? We’re hearing of that occurance more and more. Yet, we know that all those documents can be monetized. They could be money in the hand of the thief.
Well, if you get your wallet back, and all its contents except the cash, you’re much less likely to bother filing a police report. You know a police report will take hours out of your day and you know you’ll never get your cash back. So what’s the point?
The victim with her stolen-and-returned wallet.
Meanwhile, the pickpockets in Pisa aren’t fingered. They don’t get arrested or fined. And that’s one more incident that never makes it into statistics. The city’s happy about that, and so are the police. If the pickpocket didn’t steal more than €400, and didn’t steal your property (wallet, documents), nothing will happen to her. It’s as if it never happened. That’s why I say that pickpockets are an invisible species.
“Pickpockets are an enigmatic breed. Most are never seen or felt by their victims—or anyone else. Mystery men and women (and boys and girls) moving freely among us, they’re as good as invisible. So how can they be quantified?”
The pickpockets in discussion. Mother and daughter?
And so, pickpocketing remains the travel industry’s dirty little secret. Unreported incidents = low statistics. And pickpocketing retains the ridiculous label: “petty theft.
Sigh.
Another family examines a wallet at the bus stop. Were they also victims? We didn’t ask them.Pisa train station
This is my view out the taxi window. Or rather, this is my view OF the taxi window. I’m outraged. This is the entire window!
Taxi window obstruction
Over-reacting? This is in Stockholm, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I’m just arriving and this is what I see of the city. No gorgeous buildings, no bridges, no sparkling water. And then I’m leaving, on my way to the airport, anticipating a final look at fir trees and birches that seem to grow right out of the granite base of Sweden, and the infinite shades of green that define the countryside. Maybe I’m a first-time visitor—and this is my first impression of Swedish hospitality!
I’m talking to you, TaxiKurir. For a $100-ride to or from the airport, I want my view. I make the trip often—ten or more times every summer and several in between. So maybe you’ll feel my absence when I travel with your competitors instead. Right. I know you won’t.
Believe it or not, the next TaxiKurir cab I took had even less view out the taxi window. In place of the large “F” sticker was an even larger square one. Wondering about the window on the opposite side? Same huge stickers. No view out of either window.
Ignorance or arrogance
With the solid headrest in front of me and windows obliterated left and right, I’m feeling a bit claustrophobic back here. TaxiKurir is not the only cab company in Stockholm.
What are they thinking?
Answer: they’re not.
Strandvagen, one of Stockholm’s many gorgeous sights.
I’m ready for lousy treatment from airlines. I expect it. Even from U.S. Airways, a member of the Star Alliance, of which I’m a top-tier member (“gold”).
U.S. Airways doesn’t extend any special privilege to me when it comes to economy seating, since my Star Alliance allegiance is to United Airlines, where I am a 1K member.
So I expect rotten seats. I get the best I can early, then hope some improvement can be made at check-in. So much for being Star Alliance Gold, the valued frequent-flier.
I followed that practice on our most recent domestic flight. Our client booked Bob and me on separate reservations with seats together in the back. Online, I moved our seats forward to 17A and B.
Airline seat scam
Early to the airport for our red-eye, there was no crowd and a nice agent quickly volunteered to assist. At the passenger check-in terminal, he brought up the seat map on which we saw certain desirable seats marked with dollar signs. I won’t pay for those on principle. The agent pointed out 5A and B on the screen, which showed available, no extra charge. Great. He booked me into 5A, a window seat.
The agent then logged in for Bob’s reservation and clicked to the seat map. 5A showed occupied now—by me. But 5B, a middle seat, was now marked with a dollar sign. It suddenly required an extra charge!
“What happened?” I asked, “it was free just a moment ago. And who charges for middle seats?”
“They charge if you want to sit together,” the agent said. Another agent volunteered that “the system” charges for random seats. But what passenger would pay for a middle seat? Only one who wants to sit next to someone sitting in the adjacent seat, obviously. Not very random, it seems to me. Clearly, an airline seat scam by U.S. Airways.
“Forget it! Just put us back in 17A and B, then.”
The agent fiddled at his own terminal for a few minutes, then informed us that 17A and B were no longer available. He offered something in the 30s.
Bob and I balked, insisting that the agent put us into 5A and B, as he initially suggested, or restore the seats I had reserved online. I waved my printed reservation at him, and he bothered to scrutinize it. We used the words airline seat scam and requested a supervisor.
The agent sweated at his terminal. Magically, 17A and B became available once again. The agent said he “moved someone.” Who knows how these airline seat scams work. Did someone really grab 17A and B during the very few minutes we tried to switch to seats in row 5? Did the agent hit a red “pax balks” button?
So now I’m wondering what triggered the scam, given that Bob and I had separate booking numbers. Could it be that his and my profiles, or frequent flier numbers, show that we usually fly together? Could it be that we booked a window seat, and within two minutes attempted to book the adjacent seat from the same terminal? Could it have been triggered by the agent who volunteered to take over the process? Any of these are possible. Any other instigator I haven’t thought of?
One thing I do not believe is that the seat we wanted was suddenly a “random” charge.
We haven’t experienced everything as very frequent fliers, but we thought we’d at least read everything. This was a first. Charging to sit next to someone? Charging for a middle seat? This is an airline seat scam I hadn’t read of, heard of, or could imagine. Very creative, U.S. Airways!
Here’s another hotel oddity. The Marine Plaza Hotel in Mumbai got it a little wrong. The nice fabric shower curtain is on the inside, and gets soaked. The clear plastic curtain liner hangs on the outside.
Is there some logic I’m not getting? Are all the bathrooms done like this?
I’m not complaining—the hotel was otherwise nice enough. Just… the odd things I find in hotels! It never ceases to amuse me.
