When Connie was 30 I booked a surprise 4 day break for us in Paris. I revealed the surprise a week before her birthday and once she had calmed down we prepared for the trip.
We landed in Paris on Good Friday of that year on a cold, brilliantly sunny morning. We checked into our hotel and, despite no one claiming to have even a grasp of English at the hotel, we quickly set about seeing all Paris has to offer. Over the course of the first 3 days we travelled all around the city via the underground. It was chaotically busy but we took in all the world famous landmarks, enjoyed some wonderful meals and generally had a thoroughly splendid time.
On the final day we had an evening flight home so decided to have one last half day of sightseeing. We took the underground train to visit the Sacre Coeur de Monmartre which is a world famous Roman Catholic church. We spent a few hours there and were suitably impressed. We made our way back to the same underground station we arrived at for the journey back to the hotel. It was even more chaotic than usual at the station and Connie and I struggled to stay together in the thronging crowds.
We both purchased our tickets and made our way to the turnstile barriers. Connie went through first and just as I followed a man stood in front of me and pointed at my trainers. I looked down then within a second he was gone back into the crowds. I was puzzled by this and from the other side of the barrier Connie had seen him block my path then disappear. She immediately shouted "check your pockets!". I put my hand into my right hand side pocket where my wallet was. Much to my horror, it was gone.
Connie bolted back over the barrier and we both ran through the vast mass of humanity, but it was hopeless and a lost cause. The thief had disappeared. We approached one underground worker after another to ask the whereabouts of the nearest police station and again made no headway due the language barrier. Eventually, we headed back outside onto the street and found a policeman. We just about made ourselves understood and tried to follow his directions given to us entirely in French. After an hour of fruitlessly searching we found a police station. We headed to the front desk and explained what had happened in English. The officer didn't understand us and, with sign language, pointed for us to go through a door and into another room.
We sat down in this room with around a dozen other people but didn't know exactly what we were waiting for. We asked if anyone in the room spoke English and no one replied. We now became frantic. My wallet had been stolen with the loss of some cash and all my bank cards, and our flight time was getting closer. Eventually we were called into another room and told to sit down in a booth with a policeman. He asked "parlez vous Francais?". I replied "non". He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. He asked one of his colleagues to take over. This second policeman seemed to know a few English words and a few basic phrases but his attempts to take a statement from us were proving virtually impossible. My frustration was now boiling over as I knew that, without a police report, an insurance claim would be extremely difficult.
Just as we were about to cut our losses and head back to the hotel, we had a huge slice of good luck. In the booth next to us was a woman also reporting a crime. She had been speaking in French and we hadn't really been paying any attention to her. Suddenly, she popped her head around the booth and said "Do you need some help here guys?". She spoke in what I thought was an American accent, however, it turned out she was a French speaking Canadian and was fluent in French and English. I could have kissed her (this wouldn't have looked good in front of Connie!) as she interpreted the whole story about our misfortune to the policeman who was able to take a full report of what had happened to me.
As we left and thanked the woman for, hopefully, saving us from the loss of a lot of money, she explained why she was there and what had happened to her. At almost exactly the same time as us and at the same station a man had pretended to accidentally drop a lit cigarette onto her leg. She had a closed rucksack on her back but as she was distracted by the first man, a second man had opened her rucksack and grabbed what he could before both vanished. She explained the pickpockets usually worked in pairs so earlier while I was distracted by the man pointing at my trainers, his accomplice was stealing my wallet behind me without me feeling a thing. It takes them literally a second to complete the theft. She further explained that if you're unfortunate to be targeted on the French underground, there is very little you can do to prevent the theft. There are hundreds of thefts every day on their underground system.
It put a downer on the end of the trip but we didn't allow it to spoil it completely. I eventually recovered some money through the insurance. Since this day I have become much more jumpy in crowds and have even reacted badly when someone has innocently knocked into me. One reason for this post is to raise awareness of how pickpockets work (in case you didn't already know) and demonstrate just how "professional" they are. It should go without saying, but in busy public areas keep your guard up!
No comments:
Post a Comment