18/4 - A Day in 2 Parts - Part 2: Of Pick Pockets

So, the Delpi Tour bus dropped us in Omonia (the other central suburb and a good deal wilder than Syntagma) and we rushed to find a loo. Into Macdonald's it was; though I'm proud to say that we've yet to eat at any western fast food place - just a much needed dunny stop.

Then we walked along the street that led to our hotel (several kilometres away); looking for a bus stop at which the buses that ran up to our area stop, and a place to buy bus tickets (just 50c - very cheap). To set the context I need to describe the experience of catching a bus in Athens - the actual bus trip itself and the little kiosks near the shops that sell tickets.

The kioks are small rectangular buildings with overhanging eaves and merchandise "all over the shop". I'm talking your typical lollies/candy, newspapers, etc., but also books (often archeological if its near a site), cards - including fake imagery of "ancient Greek sex" and pornography hanging from the eaves - some very explicit. About these kiosks gather dozens of people at the popular stops. When a bus arrives there is a crush (not equally Japanese trains though) to squeeze onto the bus - with lots of people standing.

The bus trip itself is a jerking start/stop ride who's rythm comes from the Athens traffic - and perhaps the whims of the driver. Passengers sway about, pressing against and bumping into each other as they hold the rings attached to the railing along the top of the bus.

So, we walked and walked till we got to the stop in front of the archeological museum. Lots of people there, it was about 6:30 or maybe 7pm. The first bus that passed was so crowded we didn't even attempt to get on. The second bus we entered and found the usual crush. The kids stood between us, swaying even more-so than an adult (and subsequently buming us even more) because the reach up to the rings (for Zoe) or our arms/body was less stable for them.

During the ride to the next stop I felt a subtle pressure but recurring more than you might expect from random contact against my left hip. It was below that level of active awareness - I knew there was a small woman there right beside me and that it seemed slightly unusual for a woman to be so close. But I wasn't going to be rude and turn and look. All this is hindsight though, and I know my attention was on Zoe and Grant as they bumped and swayed between Maria and I. Whatever it was, as the bus pulled to a stop I suddenly checked my left pocket where my wallet was; and it was gone. By this time the doors at the back, in front of which we were standing, had opened and one stream of people were exiting and another entering. In surprise I exclaimed that my wallet was gone, Maria looked done at the bag she had slung on her hip; found the double clips undone and also say that her purse was missing. As the doors were about to close we jumped off the bus, in the hope of finding the people/person who had so magically taken our wallet and purse. I recall feeling sheer consternation that it could be done to me and I wouldn't be aware of it.

I was unsure of the appearance of the person that had been beside me; but was fairly sure that one woman I saw turning up a side street might have been her. I pursued; telling Maria and Grant to stay and wait. I caught up to her gradually and a block later stopped her in my halting Greek+English (chiefly English). She waved her handsw at me, pleading no understanding and walked on...and I stood there. Around me people rushed back and forth about their own business, while in my head Japanese words for asking for assistance, calling for police, announcing a thief teemed - but no Greek. I just lacked the conviction/guts/? to grab her and so she walked away. Now I tell myself that even if it was her she would have passed off the wallet and purses as her first act and that I would have looked like the aggressive male acosting an innocent women...but I wonder.

Returning to the corner I found Maria, Zoe and Grant in full distress mode with the kids crying uncontrollably. It was a moment when it seemed that all pretense that we understood Greece and we were in control of what we were doing seemed stripped away - we were worse than victims (of a crime) because people streamed around us, oblivious to our distress. We decided to walk to path the woman had taken, hoping she may have tossed the wallet+purse into a bin after removing the money. No luck.

So we went back to the bus stop, now distrustful of everyone around us and rode another bus up to near our hotel. I don't think the concierge at our hotel (I have to say these people at the Dore have been more than wonderful to us - some of that may emerge in what I write next) knew what him him in the forelorn and bereft people who confronted him with their tale.

In our wallet and purse we had a reasonable amount of cash, all our keycards (our "daily" source of cash), our credit cards, and our driver's licenses. So we were suddenly bereft of cash and the ability to get cash in a hotel we would be leaving in 2 days. Ohhh, and our passports and airline tickets were in a safe in our room - but the only key to that safe had been in my wallet (I'm sure you're starting to see the setup of some great pathos here).

So it was time to split up. Maria to remain in the room with the kids and start the painful business of cancelling cards, thinking about financial arrangements etc., and I to find the local police station and make a report. Now the interesting detail of the next 4 hours is in the detail of everything that happened...but I'm afraid I'm so tired through lack of sleep and emotional downs, ups, and downs, that I'm going to leave out too much. Let me start with the police station and report.

I had instructions from the Concierge, and it was only a few blocks away; but still I became lost. I asked one kindly old gentlemen - who had no English - and who gave me the wrong directions. Then down to a flourist on the main street who did put me right.

An Athens police station is a totally unique environment which I will not be able to convey adequately. Our local one seems fairly typical. Multi-storey, plain and rather drab (inside even more so) and with a white pill box out the front. That pillbox is "manned" by a policeman with an MP5 or other similar modern sub-machine casually slung across his chest. He stands right beside the door. As I approached the front steps this guard policeman asked me what I wanted; I explained I had my wallet stolen - "First Floor" he said jerking his thumb behind him. Ascending to the first floor I found a bare lobby area - a couple of hard seats - with close to a dozen listless and wan people standing about. Behind a glass partition I could see someone (plain clothed cop?) sitting behind a desk and perhaps taking a statement from someone. I stood around for a few minutes, glancing down the one corridor and into the partitioned room. Nothing. I descended to the ground floor, wondering if the Greeks used American floor numbering and found a policewoman in uniform behind a desk just completing some business. I asked her, she said go up to the 1st floor, I said there's all these people just standing around, she said go straight into the glass room. Don't wait around. So I did...to be yelled at by the plain clothes officer and told to get outside. So I waited. Eventually he called me in.

Across the next hour, amid numerous interruptions of phone calls, people coming into the room - both Athens citizens and other officers (despite the lack of uniform the difference was, as you'd expect, obvious), and my lack of Greek combined with the primary (two other officers came in at various times, each with better English) officer's poor English, my story of what had happened finally unfolded for the officers. They had me write a list of what was missing. Then, because Maria wasn't with me they told me to go away and come back the next day - you both need to make a statement. Should I come back later tonight I asked; no come tomorrow.

Returning to our rooms I found Maria worn down by the emotions of the day, the phone calls of cancellation, and (most distressing to her), her inability to contact our travel insurance company; no matter what number she used. So I started making calls. Here's one sequence I recall well, and which took probably about an hour. I went to the Concierge and got the number for the Aussie Embassy, hoping they'd be able to help - we were facing the situation of no money for food or our bill in a hotel in AThens - or thats how it seemed that night. We had a total of EU$20 (Zoe's money), some US currency (in the unaccessible safe) and a sum in our Australian bank that we no longer had any "funnel" to (other than internet banking...how would we use that we wondered). Anyway, I called the embassy. Closed of course, but by following a number of prompts I was routed through to someone in Canberra for emergency assistance. After go around in circles and not explaining my needs properly I got him to contact our insurance company and connect me to them. He then left the conversation. The agent for the insurance cfompany was very nice and I got to know her rather well in the next hour. After explaininjg the situation to her she explained that there was little that the company could do for us (e.g., no cash advances or such), but that she would put me in touch with Mastercard International to set about issuing an Emergency Card. She stayed on the line while I spoke to the stoltifyingly polite and formal American operator (but stayed in the background). Then the American operator said we needed the Commonwealth Bank (our bank) in on the conversation. So she called them, but (accidently?) dropped out. So I was left explaining the situation to the Commonwealth lady who wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed (as became more and more apparent). Finally Mastercard International was called again and a kind of stand-off in understanding occured between Commonwealth Bank Woman (she lacked the understanding) and Mastercard International Woman. Finally we got rid of the dumb aussie and set about the laborious task of having an emergency card issued. It was totally sureal having the insurance woman ride quiet shotgun in the back most of the time, and then chat to me during the intermidable "I just need to put you on hold for a minute sir"s. It actually lightened my spirits having a laugh with her about what was happening.

In the meantime Maria was burning credits on her mobile phone calling all and sundry. She had earlier awoken Jane (thanks Jane!) in the middle of the night to ask for help with the insurance company contact. Finally she got onto Marika who came to the rescue - she would have George drop around some cash the next morning (I think he was even going to come that evening), and would cover the hotel bill if necessary. I'd also gotten an emergency card (actually pair) issued from Mastercard that should turn up within 48 hours; though these cards would have limitations in how/where they could be used (thats still unclear even after talking to Mastercard International operators about exactly that today - great). So some time around 10:30 or 11-something, with the kids crashed on our bed we had a bit of a family pep talk and climbed into bed. However Maria and I were so nervous and worried that neither of us slept very much - though we felt emotionally and physically drained.