In retrospect, I was never a particularly cautious traveler. I asked strangers to watch my backpack on a trans-border bus from Jordan to Israel as I went to the bathroom, inviting myself to be the star of the next Midnight Express or Brokedown Palace. I left my bag, containing a digital camera and expensive pair of headphones, unattended on the rooftop of a Syrian hostel as I explored the city. And, every time I came back to my unmolested belongings, I would say to the universe, in my best Blanche Du Bois voice, “whoever you are, I’ve always relied on the kindness of strangers”.
It was only in Piraeus, Greece, when I was robbed of all my belongings, that I realized how foolish—and lucky—I had been. As I puzzled over what to do, I made a mental list of what to repeat, next time I’m in a foreign country, in order to have everything I owned liberated from my person.
Step 1: Dress Like A Tourist
Piraeus, Greece, is home to the port of Athens and serves as the gateway to most of the Greek Islands. My eventual destination was Patmos, a small, seahorse shaped island off the coast of Turkey. However, my bus from the Athens airport arrived at 11AM; my ferry would not depart for Patmos for another 12 hours. The temperature was already well above 90 degrees, and I decided that it would take too much effort to change from my flying outfit. In most circumstances, this would’ve been a reasonable decision, except that my flying attire consisted of oversized basketball shorts, flip-flops, and an American flag tank top proudly emblazoned with the words “SWAG SWAG SWAG”. While the tank top was meant to be ironic, it might has well have said, “I’M NOT FROM AROUND HERE; I’M PROBABLY CARRYING CASH AND AN AMERICAN PASSPORT”. At the time, however, all I could think about finding a breeze and finding something to drink.
Step 2: Drink Conspicuously
I found my way to an unnamed kebab restaurant on the corner. It was 3AM in my head, which led me to reason that it was 5 o’clock somewhere, which led me to purchase a cold liter of Heineken and a kebab. The restaurant’s sole patron was a decrepit Greek man, shirt unbuttoned to his navel, methodically rolling cigarettes at the only table outside. I motioned to join him, and he motioned for me to sit.
The language barrier was substantial; he didn’t speak a word of English, and I not a word of Greek. However, we soon found something that transcended all language and cultural barriers: liquor. This man wanted to drink, and the next few hours were spent in a game of drunken brinksmanship; I would buy him a beer, and he would buy me two. I would buy him two ouzos, and he would buy me three. Soon, we were slapping each other on the backs, laughing at jokes that neither of us could translate and at cultural references that we didn’t share. After a few hours, my new best friend motioned to leave, which he did with little fanfare. I, however, had been literally drunk under the table; as I tried to get up from my seat, I lost my balance, and fell onto the sidewalk.
Step 3: Conspicuously Change Your Money
Sufficiently liquored up, and still with several hours until my ferry, I decided that it’d be a good idea to change the rest of my dollars into euros. I stumbled into a tiny Western Union stand on around the corner, placing my bag on the bench behind me. Counting money after eight or nine drinks takes a surprising amount of concentration, and by the time I was finished, I turned around to put my money back into my bag. Except… my bag was no longer there.
“Did I… Did I put my bag behind me?” I slurred to the teller.
“Yes…” She trailed off. “It’s not there, is it?”
I shook my head. She exhaled sharply and slapped her forehead with her palm, as if to say, “not again”. She explained to me that she saw someone come in behind me and then leave, though she didn’t see him take my bag. She explained that this happened often; Piraeus had seen a sharp increase in robberies and thefts since Greece’s economy had gone south. Nonetheless, she seemed to take a certain degree of personal responsibility for the loss of my bag.
“I should have seen him,” she said guiltily.
The reality of the situation was, it was my own fault that I had been robbed. Had my attire been different, my BAC been lower, and my money changing more timely, I probably wouldn’t have been a target, or I would have at least been aware of my surroundings enough to fend off a potential thief. Unfortunately, as a result of my negligence, I was left with little more than the clothes on my back, the money in my pocket, and a check list of ways not to behave the next time I traveled.
I arrived in Patmos late that night, after a stomach-churning, 8-hour ferry ride. I stumbled off of the boat and toward my friend, who gave me a suspicious look.
“You smell like booze, and you look like a tourist. Where’s your bag?”
I shrugged my shoulders. I was already too hung over from the afternoon’s festivities to explain what had happened. My friend, however, seemed to piece together the situation.
“You’re an idiot,” he said bluntly.
I couldn’t say that he was wrong.