Hustlers

Barcelona, Spain

My fingers are numb from being cold, which is strange because I´m inside the apartment of my couchsuring host, Sara. I just bought my plane ticket to Paris, as I fly home from there on Tuesday. It´s strange that my return date is approaching so rapidly... well maybe it´s not approaching any faster than it was two months ago, but it´s strange that it´s so near. In Morocco, my thoughts were frequently set on being home in Tucson with my family. Now, while I´m still looking forward to seeing them and spending the holiday with them, I´m also feeling like I wish I could stay longer -- although not necessarily in Barcelona. I´ve been having such a great time for the past three months, it will be foreign to spend time in one place, when I return. Fortunately, though, I think my sister Ally and I will do a bit more traveling after the holidays... (in a slurred, British accent) but that´s a different blog altogevah (altogether).
Barcelona is nice, although not one of my favorite cities. I have had some interesting experiences though. I arrived on Tuesday afternoon. I was walking down Les Rambles from the Metro to my hostel when I noticed a small gathering. As I passed, I observed a finely-dressed man knelt down in front a small mat, performing a sort of ¨Three Card Monty,¨ except with little upside-down baskets, one of which contained a small white ball, instead of cards. I continued on to the hostel and put it in the back of my mind. Later that evening, however, I say the same man doing the Spanish-style ¨Three Card Monty.¨ I stood a little ways away and watched. The people standing around him would hand him money, pick a basket, and if they won, he´d had the money back. They kept doing this. Then a girl nearby opened her wallet and took out fifty Euros, apparently the amount that everyone was betting. She handed him the money, he flipped over the basket, and it was empty. She lost. And her reaction of disappointment somehow seemed different from the losses incurred by the other betters in the group. Not two seconds had passed when everyone standing nearby and split up and walked off in different directions. Moments later, a police van drove by. The main guy just kept walking back and forth along the street, as did the others. He and I exchanged a look. Then he returned to the little mat with his baskets and the group reconvened. I realized that all those people who were constantly betting were actually part of the scam. I also realized that there were at least two look-out guys on either side of the street to call out if police were coming. Their language was foreign. They all looked to be Eastern European. I deduced that they were from former Yugoslavia. So they continued on, the guy swiftly moving around the baskets and his cohorts pretending to pick a basket and win money. Passers-by would see the group and assume that they were other tourists or passers-by simply intrigued by the prospect of winning. Eventually, one of the look-outs called out in his language and all the hustlers slowly vanished down the street. I stayed for a bit longer before heading back to my hostel. The following night, I went to a soccer match between Barcelona and a German team. It was fun, although freezing. Afterward, I had Indian food with an Australian couple from the hostel. So by the time we returned to Les Rambles, it was pretty deserted. While the prostitutes and guys illegally selling cans of beer were out and about, the scam group was nowhere to be seen.
Yesterday, I had checked out, put my bags in the storage room, and was wandering down Les Rambles shooting some video. I passed one of many newspaper/magazine/postcard stands and there on the the other side was the ¨Three Basket Monty¨group. I took out my video camera and began to record the man shuffling around the baskets. Not a minute had passed before the group dispersed. I didn´t quite realize what was happening. The suave main man and one of his hulking hoodlums were walking past me to the right, accompanied by another guy. That guy, in plain clothes, then told me to turn off my camera and he flashed a badge at me. A police badge. Instantly I was concerned that this was another scam to steal my video camera and whatever else I had. I complied with turning off the camera, but I asked to see a photo ID. Another undercover officer was now there and he begrudgingly took out his photo ID. They both showed them to me, but I wasn´t convinced. I mean, it doesn´t take much to make a fake ID and buy a fake, realistic-looking badge. Meanwhile the crooks were emptying their pockets. The second officer asked me to open my bag and show him the contents. I asked why and he explained that maybe I had a gun and he wanted to be sure. I carefully showed him the contents. Then he asked again to see what I had videotaped. I rewound the tape way past the con-artists, to show him my video of the street performers and the trees, so he knew I was just a tourist. He watched with interest, soon accompanied by his partner. They commented in hushed voices as they pointed to the ringleader shuffling the baskets. Then they told me that if I had videotaped their faces, that I would have had to delete the whole tape. They handed me back my passport and told me not to do that again. I walked away, relieved that they weren´t fake, scamming police, and also excited that I was part of a sting operation. A little ways down the street, I saw a guy who I knew to be part of the swindling troupe, and I was tempted to return to the police and tell them. However, I didn´t want a bunch of angry, potentially-Yugoslavian criminals coming after me later that night when I returned to the hostel.