A Pickpocket in Paris and The Price of Staying Connected

Gare du Nord, Paris

I felt like I had truly arrived in Paris when my phone was Pickpocketed, practically in the same instant my foot touched the platform at Gare du Nord. It’s easy to have a romanticized image of Paris - and the city is undeniably stunning - but like any big city, it comes with big-city problems.

I step off the train at the bustling Gare du Nord in Paris, and at that very moment, my phone is stolen from my pocket. Not that I notice. Not that I sensed anyone watching me during the journey. I’m wearing a wool coat, its pocket neither particularly open nor easy to access - so deep, in fact, that reaching for the phone myself requires deliberate effort.

When a stranger’s swift hand slips into my pocket, it’s not just my phone that’s taken. In that instant, my identity, my memories, my sense of direction, and even my ability to pay vanish along with it. There goes me! Thankfully, these things aren’t gone forever - thanks to iCloud, they’re safely stored. But at that moment, they’re completely out of reach, and it feels like I’ve lost everything. In a vast, unfamiliar city where I don’t speak the language, the sense of vulnerability is overwhelming. Thankfully, I’m not there alone, Kimmo is with me.

Of course, I wanted to reclaim myself, to function in society as I’m used to. So, I bought the latest iPhone - because the previous model was no longer available. I paid €1,500 - a relatively small price for a person, a small price for me.

Over the past decade, I’ve willingly transferred pieces of myself into the cloud, entrusting everything to a single company - Apple - believing in its permanence and omnipotence. My identity is now contained in a device weighing roughly 200 grams, a device I can upgrade to the latest model as soon as it hits the market - or when the previous one is stolen from my pocket. The steep price I pay for this device is clearly lower than what I’ll pay for the next one - and far less than the ultimate price we’ll all pay as we destroy our environment.

I often feel an overwhelming urge to withdraw from the entire system, driven by a deep resentment toward the capitalist framework. The relentless pursuit of growth is destroying our only planet. Yet, even as I despise it all, I find myself acquiring the tools to play the game and even buying shares in companies. Logging out feels impossible, and with each passing day, the weight of it all grows heavier.

Even the person who stole my phone did it just to stay afloat in this ruthless system.

I could have bought a used phone, perhaps from Barbès Boulevard, near Gare du Nord. A device that, just moments ago, held someone else - unique in their own way, just as I am. If I had patiently wandered through the dozens of slightly shady - looking shops lining the street, I might have even been able to buy back my own phone.

Yet, it would have felt like supporting the pickpocket trade - even though I’m not entirely sure if that’s any less ethical than the business practices of large corporations. The difference is that this time, it directly affected me, making it personal. On an ethical level, I feel just as defeated as I do on a personal one. I had planned to use my old phone for a long time; after all, I had just replaced its battery and screen two weeks ago.

When I download myself from the cloud onto a new device, everything is there. My new phone looks just like the old one - just like me, down to the wallpaper. And before long, I start to forget the entire ordeal.

And so the cycle continues. My stolen phone becomes someone else’s lifeline, while my new purchase fuels the endless machine of production and consumption. I may have replaced my loss, but the deeper truth remains: we are all cogs in a system that thrives on our dependence, our vulnerabilities, and our complicity. The phone in my hand is a microcosm of the world we’ve built - convenient, indispensable, but deeply flawed. I can protect myself from pickpockets, but not from the system that demands we all play along. Perhaps the real theft isn’t the loss of a phone, but the loss of freedom to exist outside this relentless loop.

My phone wouldn’t have been stolen if my hand had been in my pocket or if I had been holding it in my hand. But when you’re stepping off a train with luggage, you often need both hands. Because of the luggage, I was likely already being watched - especially since I wasn’t speaking French, clearly marking me as a tourist, possibly visiting Paris for the first time.

Gare du Nord, one of Paris's busiest train stations, is a hotspot for pickpocketing in the Paris area. Make sure your phone and valuables are kept out of reach of prying hands.