I was in Paris some years ago with a friend and we decided to visit a fleamarket which we'd read about in the guide book. We made our way there on the metro, and when we came out into the street, found ourselves in the dodgy part of town. We could as well have been at any fleamarket anywhere in the world, as the stalls were manned by the same foreign nationals from West Africa, selling the same cheap goods from the East. No charming Frenchman (is that an oxymoron?) displaying traditional French bric-a-brac and homemade delights. Having slogged our way there, we browsed anyway, and found ourselves at a jewellery stall with a group of Japanese tourists.
I suddenly noticed that there was an arm between me and the lady next to me, and that it was up to its elbow in her handbag. This struck me as being incorrect and without a second thought I turned and hit the owner of the arm on the shoulder quite forcefully, dislodging his arm from the handbag. He stepped back, opening his jacket to show us that he hadn't taken anything yet. In that instant it flashed through my mind that he might have been part of the group, but his retreating back as he ran off allayed that fear. He was also a foreign national, a legacy from the French colonial past.
The Japanese group kept bowing to me, a little embarrassing for a Westerner unfamiliar with their politeness. I was just relieved that I hadn't made an awful fool of myself!
We decided after that that discretion was the better part of valour and beat a casually hasty retreat from the area in case the would-be thief had a gang of friends. I doubt whether too many people hit him. And I am rather pleased that my instinctive reaction was attack rather than retreat. I would have made a good caveman.
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