Not My Purse, Monsieur Pickpocket

Our first day in Paris was marked by two very serious introductions to French culture:

1.  Food, and
2.  Pickpockets

The flight to France via Air Canada was typical, consisting of a lot of food, a tiny amount of sleep and a lot of MY drool all over the mister’s shoulder (sorry, darlin’).

We dropped off our bags at the hotel and wondered off in search of the best cure for jet lag: food (well, booze is also good, but that’s for a different post).

Paris is our kind of playground. We didn’t even walk a block and we were surrounded by cafes, brassieres, and outdoor fruit and bread markets. The scent of french bread and coffee filled the air. It was almost overwhelming to have so many choices. We figured the easiest thing to do while on a budget and while saving room for dinner was to stop off at a local market.  

Petit Cafe in Paris Le Parc du Champ de Mars in front of the Eiffel Tower.

At the time, the American dollar to Euro conversion was dismal. Luckily, the choices for sandwiches, breads and cheeses at the market were sufficient and decently-priced. We paid €3.50 for croissants, a french baguette and cheese, took our cuisine treasures to the Champ de Mars Park in front of the Eiffel Tower and had the world’s best jet-lagged snack.

It was at the park that we met the second introduction to French culture: Le Pickpocket. 

The act of pickpocketing is not necessarily just culturally French. It’s a problem in many major cities around the world, with the exception of—I’d venture to guess—Los Angeles (at least in LA, if people want your stuff, they’ll just rob you at shank point; It’s much more violent, but at least you know it’s happening).

Petty criminals and gypsies also have to feed their families. With the advent of this terrible global economy and the rare policing of pickpockets, it’s no wonder we met one so easily in the park. He was an older gentleman, sitting on a bench just behind us and within reach of my purse. He wore a cap and sunglasses, with a messenger bag and a newspaper. His plan was to pretend to read the newspaper as though it was the most important editorial he had ever read, while simultaneously trying to steal from my purse.  

I’ll bet there’s a lot of people who like to sit and read in the park. However, the problem with this particular person was that he was all up in our bubble of privacy. It felt wrong for him to be so close to us. We instinctively questioned his action to sit right behind us with so many perfectly available benches in the park.

Unfortunately, that pickpocket met his match. As mentioned before, we’re from LA, which means we fear very few things in life (true story: even a drive-by won’t set me off) and we read up beforehand on how to keep our stuff, well, OUR stuff.

We follow these seven precious commandments to keep our things safe:

1. We will carry only the money we need.
2. My cross-body bag will stay zipped-up or buttoned, and attached to my body at all times in front of me where I can see it.
3. If a person is bursting our bubble of privacy, we will secure our belongings and then remove ourselves from the situation.
4. I will not take my stuff out of my purse in a park or open place and display it on the ground in front of me in an attempt to find something that should have been organized beforehand, unless I want some gypsy kids or pickpockets to run off with my passport (overheard this story on the plane).
5. Gypsy kids and mini pickpockets are also likely to steal and they run faster than us, but they’d be fun to punt if we could catch them. We probably won’t though, so it’s best to be prepared in advance and realize that kids are just as likely to interfere with our privacy bubble.
6. We will guard our personal belongings in purses and pockets by putting our hands on or over it while in the subway and other crowded places.
7. We will not entertain the antics of a person asking us to sign something, donate money, take our photo, or otherwise bug the crap out of us when we’re out here trying to function.

In the end, Monsieur Pickpocket was unsuccessful. He knew the jig was up when I casually put my purse on my lap and continued eating our delicious cheese and bread. We were in the most romantic city on earth, and we weren’t about to let a mishap, like petty theft, hold us back.

What do you do to stay safe? Any stories to share? We’d love to hear them. 

Don’t worry, we won’t pick your pockets when you join us on our next adventure via email! Go Nuts!