That is funny!!

We were in Paris in front of the Sacre Coeur. (sp?) An Irish family walked in front of us and a pickpocket grabbed the dad's wallet. Fast as lightening the Irishman turned around, grabbed the pickpocket's neck and said, "I want me wallet. Give back me wallet." He squeezed the pickpocket's neck so hard his (the pickpocket) face was turning red, and he still wouldn't give back the wallet. The Irishman squeezed harder, the pickpocket gasped and finally handed over the wallet. The whole time his daughter had the video camera running.

After it was over everyone gave a round of applause to the Irishman. I suppose you had to be there, but it was so funny to see a pickpocket get what was coming to him. I think it will be a great video for this family to show to their friends.

Thank you, cigale! I was hoping you would start this thread. Thanks for remembering. I can't wait to hear the stories.

Two of our funniest travel memories happened consecutively during our trip to Maui years ago when we were circling the long way around the island on Highway 31 back from Hana (the side where the rental car companies don't want you to go). DH was driving and we had our two youngest kids in the back (then 13 and five). The area on that side of the island is almost exclusively local. Keep in mind also that we were probably all rather "punch drunk" from getting up so early that morning.

This is from my 2004 Fodor's trip report:

"Just after leaving Oheo Gulch, we got stuck behind a group of horses trotting closely together behind a cart. Their broad hindquarters were perfectly framed in the windshield and it struck me that they looked just like they were dancing to the music on the CD. It happened to be an island version of Willie Nelson's 'On the Road Again' and, when I pointed this out to the kids, it sent them into fits of laughter. PAP took a picture of this 'view' for our scrapbook. I'm sure it was one of those quirky had-to-be-there moments, but it's one we won't forget. That song won't ever be the same again, either.

The views of the southern coast and Haleakala were also incredible along cliff-hugging Hwy 31. The blind curves are nerve-racking, but very much worth the drive. At one point coming around a narrow corner, a local 'businessman' leaned out of his old white Buick and waved a humongous doobie in PAP's face. The man was grinning from ear to ear and obviously having a great time teasing the haoles."

It's true. I have never heard Willie sign "On the Road Again" since without picturing those humongous horse butts side-by-side in our windshield swinging in perfect rhythm to the music.

After my studies in Florence ended, I had "budgeted" a few weeks for myself to travel a bit within Europe. I was going to Avignon and had to change trains in Marseille. I had a backpack, which I was wearing, a small duffle bag and a large, heavy suitcase with me, as I'd been in Italy for a while. (I'd sent home "winter clothes). So I boarded the train in Marseille with some difficulty. I'd actually gotten onto the train, threw my backpack and duffle bag, and needed to use two hands to hoist the suitcase up. The train started to move, and I gave the big suitcase one last "tug" and apparently didn't realize my own strength. Between the movement of the train and my effort, the suitcase "came onboard" with such force that it knocked me flat onto the floor of the train.

BC

THANKS! These are funny, keep them coming.

Oops, sorry. I just realized it was supposed to be funny events from trips in "Europe." I don't have any particularly unique ones there yet. I'll have to keep working on that!

These are funny! We've had quite a few in our four years of non-stop travel, but I think this one was by far the funniest...in Portugal confronted by a naked German!

http://www.soultravelers3.com/2008/06/beauty-and-nake.html

We also found it quite funny that the only time we got pulled over in Europe, was by police on the autoban in Germany...for going too slow!! We were only going 80 miles an hour!!

We drive in a heavy, small motorhome (weighted down by books & full sized digital piano for homeschool) so can only go so fast up hills. We had no idea that it was a cop car in front of us or what the colorful sign on top was saying in German. Finally he waved with his arm, so we got his meaning, but we were a bit fearful that it might be some kind of crime as we had read about people pretending to be police to rob people.

Nope, real police and they just told us to go faster. We could keep up with the minimum as long as there were no hills.

that was funny,sap.
WTnow, well I saw your naked hand at least

Not really funny but odd:

The first time I tried to get an iced coffee in London (it was about 85). I asked and the waitress didn't understand. so I explained. she brought me what I think was a coffee iced cram soda. this was about 15 years ago. Perhaps they have iced coffee now. I haven;t asked again.

Also, some odd examples of the language that divides us:

Salad "cream" instead of dressing
Chicken salad - cold chicken with lettuce and tomatoes on the side (not a salad made from chicken, celery and whatever held together with mayo)
Asking for a large ice water (a still small glass with one cube of ice)

Another source of interest is the many, many ways there are of flushing a toilet. My favorite was at a rest stop on the autostrada. I searched everywhere, before finally seeing a slightly different colored "tile" on the floor - it was a rubber nipple that you had to step on to flush.

Toilets!! I was once in one (FRANCE) but couldn't figure out how to flush and was too emabrressed to simply walk away,
so I waited outside for another woman to approach. Luckily she understood English, and I explained my problem.
She told me what to look for in this toilet. Later she sent us over glasses of champagne. There have been many toilets and showers were hard for me to figure out.

A post about wearing Red White & Blue on July 4th in France, made be remember this when we were in Italy on July 4th in 1979. We were on our first and only (gasp) bus tour of Europe & the whole bus load of us were eating at one of those places that cater to groups. Our waiter brought out liter bottles of Coke and with a flourish announced "American Champagne!" Then for dessert the waiters brought out cakes with sparklers and we all sang a patriotic song. At the time, the waiters probably got a bigger charge out of it than we did, but it was fun. And, thinking back on it, was was pretty funny.

nyt: Your mention of chicken salad calls to mind that episode from Fawlty Towers about Waldorf salad.

Sometimes my sister and I leave our husbands for a week or two and go to Europe.

One year we were in Florence and my sister had a huge (last time she packed like that) suitcase. We had to go up a step so she turned backwards to pull it up. She missed and fell flat on her back with the suitcase on top of her. I was laughing so hard I couldn't help her. A very handsome young Italian gentleman walked up to her put his had out and pulled her up.....we now refer to him as Paolo.

Another year when we were in Paris in the Marias I was doing the stupid tourist thing of standing on the corner looking at a map. A gentleman walked up to me and asked if he could help. He was dressed in a white suit and white hat just like Maurice Chevalier...ok it dates me....He helped us and we were on our way. About a hour later we were sitting in the garden of a museum cooling off and "Maurice" walked up to us again. We said we were ok and just resting. After he left my sister said, "If he comes up to us again, I'm running." I said, "But he could be Maurice Chevalier's ghost." I realized later we probably should have had him sit down and talk to him about the area.

It was my first to Europe (London and Paris). On the way over my very (very) new SO managed to hit my eye with a bottle of red wine. I was stretched out on three seats (5 across) and his hand hit his open bottle (he was reading). It hit my eye hard and spilled all over my white top. I was given wings by the flight attendant...really! He was speechless (the only time I saw him so!) and was afraid the trip was ruined. I ended up with a big black eye. The desk clerks in particular looked suspiciously at us for the entire trip.

I have one other: We rented a house in Tuscany. My sister and her husband got to Rome very late on Saturday so we arrived at the house very late...with no food. The next morning my husband and I went out (early Sunday morning) foraging for food. On the way to the village we passed a Shell gas station. The village was shut tight. On the way back we stopped there at the gas station just to get "gas station food" to hold us over....whatever. We were starved. I got out of the car and the windows of the building were reflective so we couldn't see in. I opened the door and looked in and all I could hear were angels singing....there were sparkling glass cases filled with the most delicious, bakery fresh pastries....boudini di riso (my favorite) and anything else you could think of....I was in heaven!

Ann1, Your anecdotes about "Paolo" and "Maurice" made me laugh out loud. Chivalry is not dead!

Ann1 what is boudini di ruso. like blood sausage?where's the Paolo and Maurice reference. I need a laugh.

Cigale, it's in Ann1's post of 4:53 PM on this thread.

Budino di riso is Italian rice pudding.

BC

We were living in an apartment in Montepulciano for our week there and because we had a kitchen, we cooked a few dinners at home. One of the pleasures of that week was going to the shops for groceries. One day I decided we needed some fresh mushrooms for dinner -- I'd seen dried ones everywhere but no fresh ones. Now, to say that my Italian is minimal would be a gross exaggeration.

I went into a fresh vegetable shop (what we'd call a greengrocer here) while my SO waited outside. In my very best Italian (hahaha), I asked "Do you have any fresh mushrooms?" I didn't see any and he shook his head no, so I said grazie and left. I found my SO outside and said that there were no fresh mushrooms but that I was pretty pleased with myself that I'd been able to ask for them in Italian.

We walked along a little ways and I thought about it and said to my SO, I think I might have said "Are you any fresh mushrooms?" We had a little laugh about that.

We walked along a little farther and I thought about it a little more. I said to my SO, I think what I actually said was "Let's go, fresh mushrooms!"

No wonder the guy shook his head. It wasn't that he didn't have any. It was bewilderment.

GTG, great one! (And actually in Italian there is more than one word for "mushroom", it all depends on what you want.)

BC

My late husband spoke French but loved that i different to hear my faux pas. In one of our favoite Provencal bistros,
We had a server we knew through the years who was always upbeat but this one day he was sullen so I said SOURIS, which means mouse
thinking I was saying Sourire which means smile.
The Guy broke out in laughter and had to tell everyone that I called him a mouse.
Another time my poor French we were staying at the Nord Pinus in Arles. I called it the North Penis much to my late husbands delight.

OMG, LOL!

BC

Ah, Cigale. Thanks for the laugh!!

Well, of course your husband laughed, cigale! Everyone knows it's the South Penis in Arles!

LOL, GTG, I didn't know that.

Crime in Venice is not common, but we were in the right place at the right time to witness a police chase, Venice style, straight out of the Keystone Cops. Alt! Ladro! ( Stop! Thief!), blowing of whistles. African hand bag seller (specialising in fake Gucci, Prada and Louis Vuitton bags) runs through the campo at high speed, hurling bags behind him as a diversion, closely followed by policeman with whistle. That endurance training on the Veldt paid off for the chased, and he got away. Closing scene – cop returns, spends time kicking and stamping on the bags.

Priceless.

Our 4 months in Europe with two children did see many hilarious events occur. One very special memory we do have is when my husband was told by a Moroccan Berber that I was worth 20 000 camels.
We'd done a day trip up throught he Atlas mountains. On our way, we stopped at a gem/precious stone roadside shop. After having spent the week in Marrakech, we decided not to bargain too much with the hardworking mountain dwelling Berbers. We bought the most beautiful handcrafted chess set that must have taken many days to make. In appreciation of his work, my husband paid the craftsman top dollar. My job involved taking a photo of the two of them shaking hands on the deal - this was when my hubby was offered 20 000 camels for me!!
Just beautiful......

Oh....and on the less funny side and probably not really in Europe.....we were kidnapped in Istanbul.
Not good!

We were married in 1969 and promptly took off for Europe with the intention of living there for two years out of a Volkswagen camper. Since it was the beginning of winter we headed south to Nice. One afternoon we wandered around the old port and my husband had need of a toilet. In his improvised French he asked three unknown males "Ou est l'avotoir? They looked rather bewildered but gestured that we both should go with them in their car. Not too many toilets around the old port I thought. And we drove. And we drove. Finally on the outskirts of Nice they pulled over to the side of a road and told us we had arrived. We got out and they drove away. It took us some three or so blocks of very strange buildings to realize we were in the stockyards and in the midst of slaughter houses. It was a very long walk back to town.
Then we got a job with Radio Monte Carlo selling cowboy hats. It was a hot summer and we ended up on afternoon high in some hills. We also had an African Gray parrot. As it was hot and deserted, we sponge bathed and retired very nude to the camper. In the middle of slumbers two police opened the doors and shouted "no fires, no fires" We didn't have any fires going, the bird was freaking out and my darling husband grabbed the only protection against total nudity, a small washcloth. We struggled for control of the washcloth while the police are explaining about fire control and the parrot is yelling obscenities. It is very hard to have a conversation in another language while one is nude.
And then there was the bladder infection. In a campground during the rainy season after the gypsies have arrived. But we won't go there.

An Istanbul kidnapping and gypsies and bladder infections. Seems we need new a thread of untold mysteries. Come on.. you can't leave us hanging with those two!!

cigalechanta, bjl and bookchick: Thank you bookchick for answering the questions. I went to bed early last night I just want to add that the boudini di riso is the rice pudding in a crust.

Yes, please fill us in on the rest of the stories. I love this thread. It's great to read everyone's stories.

20,000 camels! Wow! I was only offered an oriental rug for my three year old in Istanbul. Actually the man also noted that if my son had a mustache he would look just like his brother-in-law. Made me look twice at my son and wonder how I would get the rug home.

<<African hand bag seller >>

Peter, we witnessed a similar thing in Rome. Honestly the poor guy looked just like road runner. One minute peddling his fake Fendi, a double take as the cops rounded the corner and I swear his legs did an on the spot cycle thing before he grabbed the lot and scarpered. I could almost hear the cartoon sound track with a pchew! as he ran off.

Tourists are fair game for scams in Rome. We are tourists, so naturally fair game. We were stung in the most memorable fashion a couple of years ago, when we managed to purchase a pair of leather jackets (“I’m on my way home from the Milan fashion shows, where are you from?, my sister lives in Adelaide, I’ve lost half my map of Rome (shows half map), can you direct me to the bank, my Visa card is broken (shows Visa card with broken corner), here take these two leather jackets – they are just samples, I don’t need them, could you spot me 50 Euro, I’m about out of petrol (points to petrol gauge)”. 50 Euro for two leather jackets – unbelievable, and they had an Italian label – pasted over the other label that said “Made in Beijing”. A few polyvinyl chlorides were killed and their skins tanned to make those jackets. And he was right when he thanked us for our help – “you’ll never forget me”, he said. We haven’t.

So we were chuffed this time when a guy pulled up, asking to be directed to the Tiber – all of 50 metres away, bridge in full view, jackets in plastic bags on the back seat. Anticipation of sweet revenge. Same dialogue, up to the point when we were advised that his sister lived in Perth. And then he drove off – he must have spotted Lou’s grin as she poked me in the ribs. Damn. Hate that.

If there turns out to be a reincarnation option at the checkout, I'm coming back Italian. Just about the perfect country. Even their politics are so bad they are good!

Fashionista: After reading some of your recent posts on various threads, I have decided to nominate you as funniest person of the week (and best storyteller -- next to Peter, of course).

[Stuff like this is the reason I'm not getting my work done.]

Hi cigalechanta,
During our visit to Bacharach, Germany we decided to take a Rhine Cruise for a few hours. We stopped in the local grocery store to purchase some picnic supplies so we could have a lovely picnic lunch on the boat. We decided on the usual: bread, salami, fruit and drinks. As we stood in the checkout line I made a last minute decision to grab some soft cheese. My husband said he didn't want any that day so I quickly ran back to the dairy section and picked up a small cube of soft cheese.

By the time we boarded the boat it was almost lunch time. Boy did that cheese sound good right about now. I was starving. We carefully opened our picnic set. Set the table with silverware, plates and wine glasses. Everything was beautiful. We cut up the fruit and salami and finally it was time to eat. Good I thought, cheese time! I proceeded to peal off the foil from the cheese. Well, the cheese was slightly darker than I thought it would be. No problem I thought, probably just some kind of unusual cheese. I'm game. After all when in Rome...

I bit into the cheese. The next five seconds seemed like an eternity...I didn't know what it was, but it definitely was NOT cheese. I didn't know what to do...I didn't want to be rude and spit it overboard (which I seriously considered). I looked up and straight into the face a little old Chinese man who had been watching us set up our picnic. Oh gawd I thought I can't spit it out now. What will he think?

I couldn't keep it in my mouth any longer. I spit it onto a napkin while my husband stared at me in disbelief. I gasped..."It's not cheese!" What IS it? My husband picked up the small piece still wrapped in foil and smelled it. He started laughing hysterically. It was yeast! Ughhh!!! I couldn't get that taste out of my mouth for the next hour. That will teach me to be in a hurry while shopping for food in a foreign country.

Michele

Ronael, tell us about the kidnapping!

I have so many of these stories that I don't know which to tell first. Here goes- My wife and I go to Sardinia every year. Her sister, who is Neopolitan, owns an apartment on the beach in the lovely town of Golfo Aranci. It seems that every year we meet the same people. We seem to be the only Americans there, consequently, we make many friends wanting to know about the USA. The first year we were there, my wife struck up a friendship with a young woman from Milan, named Consuelo. Consuelo went to the beach bare-topped, as do many there. After a while, they made no impression on me. The second year we went, I was laying on the beach, on my back, and Consuelo came over to greet my wife. I really did not recognize her. She sat on the beach, next to me, and proceeded to converse with my wife, who was sitting on the other side of me. Consuelo leaned over to speak with my wife and her boobs were about two inches from my face. I blurted out to my wife, "Now I recognize her"!

LOL!!!!

I love these stories are they are often a lesson.

I've got a few, one that I'll share, because it was rather embarrassing.

My parents and I were sitting in front of the Trevi Fountain at night, enjoying the rare quiet, no crowds, just us. And a few vendors selling this moldable blob. They tried to convince us to buy it, but we weren't interested. As I'm sitting there taking pictures of my parents throwing their pennies into the fountain, 5 vendors came into the picture with their moldable blobs in the shape of penises. I was both horrified and greatly humored that I had gotten this picture of 5 men holding these moldable blobs as my parents threw their coins. My parents laughed a lot at the picture, but my uncle thought we were perverts and got real angry at us. So reluctantly, I had to delete the picture to keep from ruining our vacation. I'm glad I have my parents' sense of humor!

I'll share another:
I took my dad on my first trip to Europe. It was to merry ol' England. I had always wanted to see Stonehenge, so took my dad along with me to see it. He complained. "Why are you taking me to see a bunch of rocks?" As we arrive to Stonehenge by bus "see, there. Rocks. Can we turn around now?" When the tour guide explained that the rocks may have come from North Wales, my dad looked at me and said "oh, those rocks are from no where?" No dad, that's North Wales. "Oh. That's interesting then. How did they get them here?" That's part of the mystery. "I'm glad we decided to come see these rocks."

Ok.......it gives me the creeps and it's actually not all that funny, it's scary - we can only laugh on reflection of how stupid we were to have let down our guard on this occasion....but here goes.
We'd been staying in the Sultanahmet area in Istanbul for just over a week. We'd done the 'touristy' thing up and down the main strip and had visited all of the main sites. We'd been to the Grand Bazaar, into varying carpet shops and had booked a tour down to Gallipoli. We felt, at that stage, that we had a fairly good grip on the local geography and had eaten at and enjoyed many local restaurants. Something was missing though.....we longed for a REAL Turkish dining experience without all of the 'tourists'. This is where we came unstuck.
We are a family of four. We'd travelled for 4 months through Europe, Turkey & Morocco. By the time we got to Turkey, we were 3/4 of the way through our journey and felt fairly calm and relaxed & confident about our personal security and safety. Mistake number 2!
This particular night, we ventured out into the dark from our apartment to look for somewhere of the above discription to eat - the two of us and our children aged 7 & 10 years. We decided to head toward the main Sultanahmet strip where we knew we could catch a tram/taxi. Shopping and sightseeing creates incredible hunger. On this evening, we decided to take an alternative walking route from our apartment. Given our easily recognisable blonde haired children, we had been pestered somewhat by a carpet salesman who was now recognising us to the point of it being annoying. We thought that by going up a 'back street' we'd be left alone. WRONG!
Dimly lit, the street took us on a journey, that we would rather not have had. We were approached in the dark by a 60'sh aged man and his younger nephew 'helper' who struck up a friendly conversation with my husband eg. my wife is Aussie, I have a cousin who lives in Melbourne etc The pair were told by my husband that we were in search of a good place to eat.......they now had an angle to work on and before we knew it, we were being unwillingly ushered into their nearby car. The younger of the two, holding my daughters arm and forcefully dragging her away toward the car. We had no choice but to go with them. They already had our daughter in the car. With my husband in the front seat, my two children in the backseat and the younger of the two turkish men between me and my children, I was now panicing. These people were total strangers. Initially seemingly friendly, but their tone quickly changed. This was an evening going horribly sour. The driver was using the guise that he would take us to a restaurant only 5 minutes drive away. He had my husband believing....I, on the other hand wasn't! What followed was 30 minutes of erratic driving through the streets of Istanbul, lessons on how bad the Western World is and how Islam will prevail in the end, and then.......a question I had feared that this was all about. If we would allow for our daughter to marry his nephew! Who... at this stage was twiddling my daughters beautiful blonde hair with his fingers......My husband, sitting in the front seat could not see this occuring, but was well aware of the fact that we were in a precarious situation & that I was nervous. We were being given lessons by the older of the two, who was driving the car. I sternly asked for him to stop the car and let us out. He kept asking my husband 'why is it that your wife doesn't trust me' in the Muslim religion we trust everyone! I pointed out that we had been driving around for 20+ minutes, when he'd initially said only 5 mins & that we certainly wouldn't agree to his nephew marrying our 10yr old daughter! & I ordered for the third time that he stop the car so that we could get out.....this was when my husband, who is a very big tall man got cranky and politely asked for him to stop the car NOW!
After 30 nerve racking minutes and a total education on Islam, how a woman should obey her man & how bad & corrupt the Western world is, he stopped the car in the middle of nowhere...we had no idea of where we were. We couldn't have got out of that car any quicker. We were lucky......it wasn't long before an English speaking taxi driver pulled over and at our request took us back to Sultanahmet.
Things were fine in the end. I'm not sure exactly what their intentions were.....to ask for our daughters hand in marriage seemed strange, but then again perhaps he was serious. Kind enough though to accept that we didn't want for that to happen! No amount of Islamic preaching was going to change our mind either.....

My favorite is my lack of the French language. Our waiter
who usually was upbeat at a bistro we visited every year,
was looking very sour, So I said souris instead of sourire
I called him a mouse, he laughed and told everyone I called him a mouse but that led him away from his inner demons and he was so happy after that

Ronael.. wow. Fortunate ending. What a hair-raising story.

Sort of like your story Ronael, but in Lebanon. Many years ago when the kids were small, we were docked in the yacht club marina in Jounieh, north of Beirut, when a well dressed, and charmingly well spoken chap hailed us from the slip and asked if he could come aboard. We were always happy to meet the locals, and invited him into the cabin, served him coffee and settled down or a polite chat, as we usually did. After the customary half hour of chatter about inconsequential things, as is required in that part of the world, he finally got to the point.

He said he had noticed our twin blonde six year old daughters in town, and wanted to know if he could act as our agent in selling them. He explained that he would guarantee he could get an astoundingly high price for such a matched pair.

He was apparently serious.

My wife prevented me from shooting him, and only allowed me to throw him onto the float and chase him down the dock. I'm still sorry I listened to her.

My lord. These stories are something else! I am feeling naive to say the least.

I refer to Sardinia again-- Every morning, I would go out to the beach and dig our umbrellas into the very hard sand. After breakfast, we would go out and spend time on the beach. As I previously mentioned, as Americans, we were a novelty. After spending the morning on the beach, we were ready to call it a day. One nice, older lady, who also struck an aquaintance with my wife, just came onto the beach near us. As I said, the sand is hard, and difficult to place an umbrella into it. This lady was having a real hard time getting the umbrella into the sand. I told her in my unaccented Italian, to give me her umbrella, and I stuck it quickly into the tight hole just vacated by my unbrella, making a great fit. This happened with a few folks looking on. This lady then loudly exclaimed "L'Americane sono vero molto gentile"! Meaning "The Americans are very kind"! The people closeby all gave a nice handclap. It made us feel great.

The receptionist at my firm of solicitors decided to take the plunge and go topless on her Cyprus holiday - on the basis that everyone else was and she would not see any of the people again....

...that is until she got chatting to the guy on the next lounger and found he was a close friend and client of the senior Partner. Blushes all round when he next visited the office!

On a trip to Iceland, one evening my BF and I decided to go to one of the public pools in Reykjavik. One of the large hot pots was quite full of people so we decided to try it. As we were getting in I looked away for a second and looked back just in time to see my BF DIVE into the 3 ft deep pool. I got in after him and when he came up I asked, "why did you DIVE into the hot pot??" He said, "I didn't dive, I didn't realize there was a step." He had taken a step and fallen face-first into the pool. After I determined that he wasn't injured I started to laugh, then he started to laugh and pretty soon the entire pool was in hysterics. Funny is funny in no matter what the language!

In 2001, I was driving From Cinque Terre to Florence. Four of us (Kim and Mary, Tracy and I) were in the car. Just outside of Florence was a toll booth, so we stopped at the gate. We looked and looked and could not figure out what to. Meanwhile cars began gathering behind us.

A voice (in Italian, of course) comes out of the toll machine. I am sure he was telling us what to do. Unfortunately, because of our limited (to say the least) expertise in the Italian language, none of us could figure what the hell he was saying. As the cars piled up behind us, a sterner voice and now sounding quite exasperated (in Italian, of course) again came through the speaker. Once again, we could not understand.

Meanwhile, as cars were piling up behind us, Mary, Kim and Tracy kept looking for a ticket we thought we must have somewhere in the car. None could be found.

Finally, a few minutes (seemed much longer) and about 30 cars stuck behind us later, a ticket magically appeared from the machine and the gate opened. As I reached to grab it, a voice (this time in perfect English) said (in a tone I will never forget), "Take the ticket and go away!" We laughed for about ten minutes, and that line was used throughout our trip.

As a matter of fact, whenever the four of us are traveling together and something goes wrong (as it invariably does on our journeys), one of us will always say, "Take the ticket and go away!" It still makes us laugh nine years later!

In Spain my wife would ask the waiter what type of ice cream they had. The word for ice cream is helado and the word for side is el lado. And sometimes a waiter would not understand her and look quizzically at us wondering why are these Americans asking me what type of sides they have. It was too amusing although of course very evil that I let the converation continue.
_______________________

The first time we visited the cousins in Spain, the pigs, cows, and a stray chicken lived on the first floor with the family. They had a hole in the floor as a bathroom. Once when I went to relive myself, I saw a huge pink thing flapping, which was the cow's tongue. That was the last time I patted the animal, saying, "Nice cow, nice cow."
_________________________________

On our first trip to France we were very young and in a crowded train compartment from Luxembourg. There was a French woman, who was haughtily speaking about us and all our shortcomings. Although I do not speak much French, I got the gist of her tirade. Then she said that it was probably our first trip to France. So I lied, and said one of the few words I knew, "Deuxième." Most looked away but it stopped her in her tracks, so to speak.

This is from a September 2008 visit to Paris with my then 26 year old daughter. She had a craving for Chinese food and we found a small, but seemingly popular place on Avenue Kléber. We had a less than mediocre meal and had already planned to compensate with a great dessert in the Trocadero area, so we were eager to leave.

"L'addition s'il vous plait," we requested politely. The hostess returned with two ceramic sake cups which she placed ceremoniously in front of each of us. "My treat!" she says. "And special surprise for you in bottom!" We peered into the sake cup and at the base was a well-rendered, and excuse me, overly well-endowed naked man! I don't think that 'speechless' could begin to describe our feelings at that moment. Not even 'surreal' could cover it. MON DIEU! It was offensive and disgusting and shocking and hysterical all at the same time.

Having been raised with especially good manners, my daughter poured her sake into her water glass so as not to offend (the sake was awful). When the sake was poured out, Johnny Holmes disappeared! As did we as soon as we paid the bill.

This is funny in retrospect. It wasn’t so funny when we were on the streets of the Ghetto in Rome at 5 PM with our bags and no place to go. On our 7th trip to Italy I became a bit careless and did not check references on the apartment I found (online) in Rome that would accommodate our party of 5. It was in the Ghetto area, a short walk from the forum, so an ideal location for touring on foot. There was a wonderful restaurant on the street just below the apartment, so we were feeling pretty good during our first lunch there, in spite of the 3 flights of dark stairs to reach the apartment, the broken drawers in the bedroom, the fact that the oven didn’t work, instructions on what to do if the boiler went out, and the fact that the apartment hadn’t been remodeled to provide two bedrooms as had been promised. We had paid our 6 nights rent plus the 200 euro damage deposit and were prepared to settle in for our stay. The next day, after a day of touring, our daughter and her two sons reached the apartment before we did and, when we arrived, she announced, “The toilet isn’t flushing right.” Sure enough, when I tried it, it filled almost to the rim then drained slowly. A call to our “landlady” produced the advice to give it until the next morning to see if it would clear. No – next morning it filled even closer to the rim and drained more slowly. Another call produced a promise to call the plumber and a follow up call saying she would be meeting the plumber there in the afternoon and we should go ahead with our plans for the day. Our daughter and her sons again returned before we did and the announcement this time was, “The landlady was here and said she would be back to talk with you.” Warning bells!! A visit to the bathroom revealed that the stool was gone!! We were 5 people with one bathroom without a stool. The landlady did return and said the plumber would be back the next morning. We said we couldn’t possibly stay in the apartment with 5 people under these conditions and, after some wrangling, did get our deposit back (but not the rent for the remaining 4 nights), along with the information that she could not wait there for us to find another place, so we packed up and were shortly on that street, deciding what to do next.
P.S. We did manage to find rooms for the next four nights, so were somewhat grateful for the recession and some cancellations in two small apartments near Campo di Fiori.

I had been looking for another bathroom (there seems to be a theme here). I didn’t want to do this but when all else fails……Paris has these quaint little portable toilets in the middle of most blocks. The way it works is that you put a Euro in, the door opens and you go in. You have about 3 or 4 minutes to get out of there before the door opens and closes then it hoses the whole thing down. If you are in there you get a “free shower”….wrong, I did not get one. But what I got was even better. I put my coin in, went in….I have on leggings and a long shirt. So up goes the shirt, down goes the leggings and I stoop. While in the process, the door opens and there stands a man in the door unzipping his trousers. I had forgotten to lock the door; I was so worried about running out of time. I don’t know who was more shocked, the man or me or the people on the street witnessing this whole mess. At any rate, down came the blouse, up came the leggings….and off I went. Needless to say, I had wet pants for a while. Cost for the toilet, 1 Euro…..cost for embarrassment, priceless.

another one:
I had just had a very pleasant stay in Munich and am line at the security check. I put the cameras, cosmetics, belts, shoes, and backpack on the conveyor belt. I am waiting to go thru the scanner while this gal in front of me gets searched. When I go through, the guard is waiting for me with my belongings.

She says, “You have a bottle in your bag”. “No, No, I don’t!” She asks if she can check. Sure chickie, knock yourself out. She can’t find it so she goes back to the film. Comes back, reaches in the pack and says, “Then, what is this”? “Sauerkraut,” I said…Sauerkraut, she asks???? She takes it and asks the guy scanning if this is what he saw, yep, it is.

I had purchased a plastic tube (like Hamburger comes in) of Sauerkraut, I guess it looked like a bottle on the film. At any rate, she was laughing. I could have been busted for illegal Sauerkraut!!!!!


PS. I opened it last night to have some with a pork roast that I had made. It was horrible, should have let them keep it at security.

We were very excited to know that we would soon be going to the town in Italy where my husband's father was born. Realizing that it is just a small village off the beaten path, hubbie wanted to prepare himself for any eventuality and struggled to learn the Italian language prior to leaving the U.S. We took the train from Rome (an adventure in itself) and arrived exhausted but anxious to get settled and begin our discoveries. As we approached the hotel, hubbie was practicing the sentence he would need to register us. Confidently he said to the dapper gentleman manning the front desk, "Vorrei una camera per due, per stasera e domani notte." to which the gentleman replied, "Do you speak English?"

Running to leap aboard a double decker bus in London, my hand slipped off the pole and I ended up on my butt in the middle of a busy "City" street at mid-day. I was laughing so hard I couldn't get up! The Londoners in the area, and my travel companion, were so very solicitous (one scooped up my eyeglasses which had flown off my face). Needless to say, traffic came to a halt while I composed myself enough to get up and out of the street!

Before our very first trip to London, many years ago, we decided to bring along our 3 1/2 year old son. To get him "up for the trip" we would read bedtime stories, usually involving royalty of some sort, that we would place in London and usually end singing the nursery rhyme "pussy cat, pussy cat where have you been/ I've been to London to see the Queen.

The trip did not begin well. We stayed in a small place near Victoria Station. It was summer and unusually warm. The afternoon of our second day, they apparantly had scheduled to paint the hallways using an oil based paint. At night, the odor from the drying paint was overwhelming, and since there was more painting to be done on the floor that day, with my son next to me, I asked the old hag running the place for a room change, which she refused to do. I told her then we would have to find another place to stay, whereupon she began to curse and scream ending with "...and you can get your bloody arses out of here."

Walking back to our room, my son tearfully asked "why was the Queen yelling at us?"

Numerous years ago (before Hank) I took a trip to Egypt. I got on the hotel's elevator to descend to the lobby; it was occupied already by distinguished looking gentleman. He turned to me and out of blue asked me to marry him! He said none of his wives had blond hair. I tried to make light of the situation and catching the reference to "wives" explained I couldn't marry someone if I wasn't wife number 1 to which he said that was a shame because I would have to be wife number 4! He was serious!

Oops that should have been on the Africa board I guess!

I foolishly wore a little knitted mini dress through Heathrow and to add definition put on my waist sincher which I though was non metallic. I was wrong.

As the poor security woman checked all my beeps, her male colleague was in hoots of laughter and proclaimed to the world, 'I name that tune!'.

I was not only embarrassed but had a huge snakey queue of people laughing at me!

This is one of those stories that you can laugh about now that it is over but going through it was just torture.

I wanted to take my son Turin to Turin, Italy for his 21st birthday. All expenses paid. He waited and pondered for 3 months before he finally agreed to go. This was 2007 when the passport office was taking months to get people their passports. We expedited and received his in only 2 months. PHEW! He was on a different airline because he waited so long before agreeing to go. I was to arrive 2 hours before he did. Perfect because he would not have money, he did not know where the hotel was, and was completely nieve to foreign cultures. I gave him a google earth print out of where the hotel was so that he could give to the airlines (including phone # and address) in case they lost his luggage. He never listens... Good thing because my plane had to do an emergency landing in DC because we almost ran out of fuel. I missed the connection to Rome. Landed in London and had to pull an OJ Simpson act through the airport to make my flight. Luggage no where to be found. My son... He was in Rome having the time of his life. Got out of the airport and into the Termini. Found the hotel (via the google earth map), which they allowed him to check in to under my name and credit card. Found a scooter rental shop and was buzzing all around Rome. Me... Late, hungry, tired, and now sweating from the 2 mile sprint around Heathrow!!! With no luggage in tow.

Finally make it to the hotel!!! My son tells me I MUST go rent a scooter and see Rome. I agree. Mistake #1!!! I get on the thing after a 2 minute lesson in broken english how to operate it. Let's just say that in 5 feet I managed to wreck 2 parked cars, the scooter, and hurt myself. You have to picture the image of a women on a scooter flailing about trying to control the scooter, while still fully engaged with the throttle all in 5 feet (literally the time it takes to cross the road because that is how far I made; across the road). Needless to say, the scooter ends up on top of me after impaling myself into the broken handle bar. Hospital??? NO! I am fine... 2nd MISTAKE!!! Pants ripped and NO luggage. One should never think that safety pins on the butt portion of pants is a good idea. OUCH!

Day 2: After washing out my clothes the night before in the sink, I put on wet clothes to go to the Vatican! Huge burn on my leg from the exhaust pipe and the bruise on my chest looked like someone took a black marker and colored from my neck to my stomach. Never fear, off to the Vatican we go. Not going to let little things like 3rd degree burns, wet clothes, and re-arranged chest stand in the way. 3rd Mistake!!! After a wonderful trip through the museums, my son decides we are going to the top of the dome. And we will take the stairs! 4th MISTAKE!!! By the time I successfully managed the 843 steps I thought I was having a heart attack! Jeans rubbed the burn raw and I could no longer walk. The chest was beating so hard that I thought it was going to collapse. Persevered and made to the hotel. Spent the next few days seeing Rome via taxi... Luggage finally arrived. We are in business! Nothing else can go wrong!

Oh wait for it... Venice. The city I have wanted to see all my life. Dreamed about this place for years. Vaparettos? Oh no. Let's walk! See the "real" Venice. AND ALL THOSE BRIDGES with MORE stairs... Finally, out of desperation and severe pain, I went to the hospital. My son thought that I was crazy for going. I tried my best to explain to the doctors the injuries. I just kept telling them that a Vespa did it. About that time 6 guys in full haz-mat suits came running down the hall, electronic devices in tow, and entered the room where I was. My son was terrified. He was sure I was dying. All of the sudden they all exited the room laughing hysterically. You see, Vespa in Italian is a poisonous bug. They thought I had been bitten by a bug only to find out that I was in a scooter accident. The look on my son's face was priceless. The xrays showed a crack in my chest plate and 3 broken ribs.

To this day, we die laughing at what it must have looked like to see me on that scooter. The 4 1/2 feet before I hit the car and hurt myself but the funniest 4 1/2 feet of our lives. He said that it was the YouTube moment of his life and he missed filming it. On our return trip to Italy, I did not even entertain the thought of a scooter. I stick to walking from now on!!!

Ok, catherine haas - you win. OMG, I was laughing and crying for you - you poor thing, but your portrayal of the ongoing episodes was hysterical!

Paris in 2006 with DW and two stepsons. The youngest 23 at the time has absolutely zero foreign language skills - zero. On our first day, we went to the Tourist Info Center to pick-up pre-purchased museum and metro passes. It was taking some time, so DW and the kids went outside to wait and look around. One of the clerks - in her early to mid twenties - also went out to smoke a cigarette. She apparently was not paying attention (the boys say she was "checking them out") and put her cigarette in butt side out. While she was attempting to light the cigarette, youngest son notices her error and proceeded to grunt, literally grunt, and point at her face. While I didn't get to hear his grunts, the pantomime version was funny enough. Once she figured out what he was doing, she said in perfect english "Oh, Thank you".

He followed up that one on the next night at a UK oriented pub watching the Superbowl. About mid-way through the third quarter, he was speaking to an Australian girl. More correctly, listening to her speak to him. While she was speaking english, apparently a combination of her australian accent and a few beers, he became flummoxed. She just asked him a question about where his university was located when he responded, "I'm sorry, but I don't speak your language."

Half of the pub heard his statement and we all had a good laugh.

My cousin on her first french holiday "every toilet is a new experience"

One that happened in Chile - i know not Europe but hey.


I flew from Mendoza to Santiago the day after the heathrew plane bomb ploet so security was tight. You had to put your bag / belt/ shoes etc om the conveyor belt and then the security would unpack and repack your bag.

OK that's fine. I get to Santiago, get a hotel, negotiate the price and get a free transfer form the airport.

I got to my hotel room and looked for my purse, in my bag, and found someone else's house keys.

I can only think that the security woman put them there by mistake. I had visions of some poor local getting home and not being able to get in.

Finland 1
Our B&B booked us onto a boat cruise. We duly arrived at the jetty to be met by a young man all of 17-18 years old and not yet shaving and young enough to be our son.

He announced with suitable pride "I'm your Captain!"

So far so good. So off the the boat we went. Expecting a somewhat largish boat for the title of Captain we went passed the boat we thought was suitable, all the way to the end of the jetty to a four seater aluminium runabout! I hate to think what an Admiral has.

The Young man did an excellent job and it was one of the highlights of our trip.


Finland 2
We arrived at our time share at 2.45 for a 3.00 check in.
"You are early" we were informed.

A bit fussy we thought, having travelled around the world, via Iceland, Norway and a few days to drive to the Time Share. We were in fact 24 hours and fifteen minutes early!

They managed to get us a unit for the week. We just had to wait for the cleaners to finish (pardon the pun).

Finland 3
The was a small pond at the Time Share with Peddle boat for use. Half the pond had frozen over night, but we duly used the peddle boat as an icebreaker. A novelty for us Australians.

Finland 4
There was limited accommodation choices due to it being the off season. We found a hotel in a small town. The rooms were 20 yards away from Disco dance floor (thankfully not a dance night), the receptionist was the cleaner and cook and everything for dinner came out of the freezer. Dinner was a choice of beef or chicken. Breakfast was a voucher for the petrol station across the road.

The good news is that these stories are the "worst things" that happened on our seven week trip. It was a trip where everything went like clockwork.

It was December and I was doing some shopping to buy Christmas presents for my loved ones back home. It was only 3 pm when I done shopping, and I had an appointment with a friend at 6. So I strolling on this street where the giant department stores and chained stores were located. I entered this department store and the alarmed were beeping but no one seemed to care so I didn't pay attention. I was in for less than 5 minutes, I felt bored spending all afternoon inside stores, and literally broke, I decided to go out and get back to my apartment. Once again the alarmed beeping when I walked out of the store, and I automatically freeze to see what was going on.
A guy who might be the security for the store stopped me and another woman. He took us to a room at the back of the store. I was asked to put my bag and shopping bags on the table.
This man spoke to me in french, which I didn't understand, and he searched on my shopping bags and my bags. I let him do whatever he wants, partly because he didn't understand when I tried to speak to him in English. But then he pulled my scarf and started sniffing it and kept talking in french, I was starting to get angry and we pulled the scarf like kids fighting over a toy.
It was kinda funny seeing a big man sniffing on a scarf like that, tho at that time I was thinking I would end up in jail over some stupid mistake (later I found out I had forgotten to cut the security magnet from my belt).

After what happened, I thought of going back to my rented apartment, and while waiting for the subway, an old guy smelly and drunk (yes, at 4 pm) talked to me in french. I told him I couldn't speak the language then he started to shout at me. I had no idea what he said, but I was embarrassed being the center of the attention of everyone standing on the platform.

He came toward someone, I didn't know what he said to them, he came back to my direction and looked at me and talked to me loudly and walked away. That should be the worst day in my life, in Paris, but now that I remember it, it was kinda funny.

I actually wrote an entire article about my experiences in Italy as an American on my site:
(Note: Sarcasm is clearly present throughout the article!)

http://jcoinster.blogspot.com/p/europe-as-american.html

The Icelandic hot tub incident and the name- that- tune belt both made me laugh out loud!

I was in Paris for a 12 hour layover with my college roomate (we were in-between trains from Copenhagen to London) when we decided to take the Metro to Invalides. The train pulled into the station and I stepped onto the train, but when I turned around the doors closed, leaving my friend on the platform! The last thing I saw were her wide eyes staring at me through the window of the train.

I had to decide what to do quickly - do I go onto Invalides or get off at the next station? I decided to go onto the final destination, and about 15 minutes later my friend arrived, frazzled, but fine. We were more careful about getting onto public transportation after that.

"Frei"... who knew that meant parking spots were available, not "free"???