Has your worst moment on a trip turned into your best experience?
Jun 8th, 2005, 02:16 PM
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Has your worst moment on a trip turned into your best experience?
Forgive me if this thread has been done before. I've been enjoying the "funniest things" thread and it made me think of horrible things that have happened on a trip that ended up turning into really good things.
My DH and I were doing a walking trip (with pretty heavy backpacks) in the Yorkshire Dales a few years ago in late fall. We were overnighting in a tiny village and intended to walk the next morning to another little town about 5 or 6 miles away. When we awoke, it was pouring and looked like it would rain all day long. Our choices were to stay inside a teashop or pub all day, hire a taxi or walk in the rain. The first 2 options looked fine to me, but DH is the hardy type who thinks a little rain is good for the soul. I lost the argument and off we set. Within a half hour, our Gortex jackets were soaked through, and our waterproof boots were leaking big time. We'd chosen the "fastest" route, a country lane that had narrow shoulders and steep banks on both sides which meant we were walking in a 4 inch pond of water for most of the way. I have been wet and miserable many times in my life, but this was beyond the pale. For several hours I cursed, I whined, I even cried! The backpack, also wet to the core, only made it more uncomfortable. The recriminations were flying...
When we finally reached the village, we weren't speaking anymore and I was totally exhausted. There was one hotel in the town, but it was booked solid, of course. The clerk said that his cousin had a B & B, would we like him to call? We silently nodded. Within minutes, a very nice young man came on foot to collect us and we trudged off behind him for another long half-mile or so, just outside the village. Still pouring.
To our disbelief, his "B&B" was a huge manor house, operated and lived in by this guy and his mother. She greeted us with sympathy and directed us to a room where we could shed all the wet clothing, boots and gear. We were then led into their gigantic old-fashioned kitchen where we snuggled up against her huge Aga stove, sipping hot tea and eating homemade cookies. After warming and drying up, she led us upstairs to the largest and most delightful B & B room we have ever stayed in. It had huge windows that overlooked their grounds, which were beautiful and very extensive. They weren't expecting guests, so none of the rooms upstairs were heated, but once they cranked up the heat, it was heaven. We had the whole floor to ourselves. The bathroom was gigantic with a classic clawfoot tub. She let us use her laundry room to wash and dry our clothes, and she couldn't have been more helpful and gracious. It was one of the best places we've ever stayed, with the nicest, funniest hosts, and had it not been for our disastrous day, I don't think we would have ever found the place.
So, do you have a similar story? It certainly doesn't have to be this long!!
Sorry 'bout that.
JoAnne
My DH and I were doing a walking trip (with pretty heavy backpacks) in the Yorkshire Dales a few years ago in late fall. We were overnighting in a tiny village and intended to walk the next morning to another little town about 5 or 6 miles away. When we awoke, it was pouring and looked like it would rain all day long. Our choices were to stay inside a teashop or pub all day, hire a taxi or walk in the rain. The first 2 options looked fine to me, but DH is the hardy type who thinks a little rain is good for the soul. I lost the argument and off we set. Within a half hour, our Gortex jackets were soaked through, and our waterproof boots were leaking big time. We'd chosen the "fastest" route, a country lane that had narrow shoulders and steep banks on both sides which meant we were walking in a 4 inch pond of water for most of the way. I have been wet and miserable many times in my life, but this was beyond the pale. For several hours I cursed, I whined, I even cried! The backpack, also wet to the core, only made it more uncomfortable. The recriminations were flying...
When we finally reached the village, we weren't speaking anymore and I was totally exhausted. There was one hotel in the town, but it was booked solid, of course. The clerk said that his cousin had a B & B, would we like him to call? We silently nodded. Within minutes, a very nice young man came on foot to collect us and we trudged off behind him for another long half-mile or so, just outside the village. Still pouring.
To our disbelief, his "B&B" was a huge manor house, operated and lived in by this guy and his mother. She greeted us with sympathy and directed us to a room where we could shed all the wet clothing, boots and gear. We were then led into their gigantic old-fashioned kitchen where we snuggled up against her huge Aga stove, sipping hot tea and eating homemade cookies. After warming and drying up, she led us upstairs to the largest and most delightful B & B room we have ever stayed in. It had huge windows that overlooked their grounds, which were beautiful and very extensive. They weren't expecting guests, so none of the rooms upstairs were heated, but once they cranked up the heat, it was heaven. We had the whole floor to ourselves. The bathroom was gigantic with a classic clawfoot tub. She let us use her laundry room to wash and dry our clothes, and she couldn't have been more helpful and gracious. It was one of the best places we've ever stayed, with the nicest, funniest hosts, and had it not been for our disastrous day, I don't think we would have ever found the place.
So, do you have a similar story? It certainly doesn't have to be this long!!
Sorry 'bout that.
JoAnne
Jun 8th, 2005, 02:55 PM
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My bad news, good news story is of Derry (Londonderry) Northern Ireland, where we were travelling last Fall.
We had a very long day in the car getting to the city (lots of stops and got behind time). We arrived in the city just as the stores were starting to close and the city was literally battening down the hatches for the night. I had never seen a place like it. Within an hour, every storefront was covered with metal screens, doors, gates, etc. there was virtually no-one on the streets and there we were. There was only one place with a room available - the last choice on our list. The B&B was pretty grim. I was pretty anxious by now. We settled in as best we could and decided to walk back into the city to eat dinner.
Most of the restaurants that had been recommended were also shuttered shut. There had been a bad flood in the city and they were closed for renovations. We finally found a hotel bar and had dinner. I had a melt down. I was scared, the city was ugly, I didn't want to walk back.....
The next day, we went on a historic walking tour of the City walls. It was fantastic and completely changed my view of Derry. Where I had seen dark and depressing and scary, the tour guide pointed out the excitement of finally seeing new development occur in a city were 75% of the buildings had been damaged during the "troubles". Businesses were open again, people were coming downtown to shop, the checkpoints were un-manned, the army station was down to a skeleton crew, etc. We saw the famous political murals, toured a fantastic cathedral and heard all about the history of this incredible place.
It became one of my most memorable moments in our 5 weeks.
Alison
We had a very long day in the car getting to the city (lots of stops and got behind time). We arrived in the city just as the stores were starting to close and the city was literally battening down the hatches for the night. I had never seen a place like it. Within an hour, every storefront was covered with metal screens, doors, gates, etc. there was virtually no-one on the streets and there we were. There was only one place with a room available - the last choice on our list. The B&B was pretty grim. I was pretty anxious by now. We settled in as best we could and decided to walk back into the city to eat dinner.
Most of the restaurants that had been recommended were also shuttered shut. There had been a bad flood in the city and they were closed for renovations. We finally found a hotel bar and had dinner. I had a melt down. I was scared, the city was ugly, I didn't want to walk back.....
The next day, we went on a historic walking tour of the City walls. It was fantastic and completely changed my view of Derry. Where I had seen dark and depressing and scary, the tour guide pointed out the excitement of finally seeing new development occur in a city were 75% of the buildings had been damaged during the "troubles". Businesses were open again, people were coming downtown to shop, the checkpoints were un-manned, the army station was down to a skeleton crew, etc. We saw the famous political murals, toured a fantastic cathedral and heard all about the history of this incredible place.
It became one of my most memorable moments in our 5 weeks.
Alison
Jun 8th, 2005, 04:24 PM
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It just happened recently. For our honeymoon, my husband and I went to Spain and Morocco (stay tuned for the full trip report on Morocco). Part of our Morocco trip included a guided hike in the Atlas Mountains: just the two of us, our guide and a mule. Now, I'm a city girl and I like to have a shower every day and I hate bugs (especially the flying, biting kind). But I was willing to try this hiking thing as a compromise; my husband likes to climb mountains.
On our third day, we hiked through stunning scenery to the village of Tachedirrt, where we were supposed to stay in a Club Alpine Francais refuge (which I figured would be basic but would have amenities). But no, we were taken to a Berber shepherd's house in the village, which had been fixed up to include a room and balcony for trekkers.
My first response on gingerly settling onto a stool on the balcony was horror and, I'll admit, a few tears. There were goats and sheep living on the first floor (inside, as well as outside). It was tidy, but not really clean. (Hey the house is partly made out of mud.) To get to the traditional squat toilet, you had to clamber carefully down high, uneven rock steps that were part of the hillside into which the house had been built, go outside, step around the goat and perch precariously on not too clean tiles while ducking the flies that had come in through the glassless window. And our incredibly kind host was offering us expensive (for him) food that we didn't want to eat (e.g. uncooked vegetables, etc), adding to my stress (because I didn't want to refuse to eat the food but was worried about getting ill and having to use that toilet frequently). Oh, and there was no running water and we were dirty, sweaty and covered in bug repellent and sunscreen. And we were going to be there for the next 16 hours.
We decided to have a nap (to take up time), and I managed to fall asleep for a little while because I was so tired. But I was woken up after about 45 minutes by a bleating baby goat outside my window. And he sounded so sweet, I just had to smile. So I crawled out of our "room", banged my head on the low doors (breaking the skin, I would add), negotiated the precarious stairs, found our host, and asked him to take me to the goat. He picked it up, showed me how to hold it - it snuggled up just like a kitten - and then took my picture with it. At one point, it pulled its head away from my neck, looked me in the eye and bleated (not great breath but totally cute).
Later, we ate our "risky" dinner on our balcony as the sun set, while watching tiny shepherds and shepherdesses (6-8 year olds) direct the family's sheep, goats, cows and younger children back from the fields and home. We never would have seen this, had we stayed in the refuge up the road. We were privileged to witness part of the everyday routine of this village, and grateful for the smiling hospitality were were offered.
On our third day, we hiked through stunning scenery to the village of Tachedirrt, where we were supposed to stay in a Club Alpine Francais refuge (which I figured would be basic but would have amenities). But no, we were taken to a Berber shepherd's house in the village, which had been fixed up to include a room and balcony for trekkers.
My first response on gingerly settling onto a stool on the balcony was horror and, I'll admit, a few tears. There were goats and sheep living on the first floor (inside, as well as outside). It was tidy, but not really clean. (Hey the house is partly made out of mud.) To get to the traditional squat toilet, you had to clamber carefully down high, uneven rock steps that were part of the hillside into which the house had been built, go outside, step around the goat and perch precariously on not too clean tiles while ducking the flies that had come in through the glassless window. And our incredibly kind host was offering us expensive (for him) food that we didn't want to eat (e.g. uncooked vegetables, etc), adding to my stress (because I didn't want to refuse to eat the food but was worried about getting ill and having to use that toilet frequently). Oh, and there was no running water and we were dirty, sweaty and covered in bug repellent and sunscreen. And we were going to be there for the next 16 hours.
We decided to have a nap (to take up time), and I managed to fall asleep for a little while because I was so tired. But I was woken up after about 45 minutes by a bleating baby goat outside my window. And he sounded so sweet, I just had to smile. So I crawled out of our "room", banged my head on the low doors (breaking the skin, I would add), negotiated the precarious stairs, found our host, and asked him to take me to the goat. He picked it up, showed me how to hold it - it snuggled up just like a kitten - and then took my picture with it. At one point, it pulled its head away from my neck, looked me in the eye and bleated (not great breath but totally cute).
Later, we ate our "risky" dinner on our balcony as the sun set, while watching tiny shepherds and shepherdesses (6-8 year olds) direct the family's sheep, goats, cows and younger children back from the fields and home. We never would have seen this, had we stayed in the refuge up the road. We were privileged to witness part of the everyday routine of this village, and grateful for the smiling hospitality were were offered.
Jun 8th, 2005, 09:14 PM
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I probably have at least a half dozen stories like this, most of them requiring some length to really appreciate just how awful the depths and how wonderful the heights.
But what I really want to say is how much these stories illuminate for me what I love about travel. You are forced to go beyond your ordinary life, sometimes in ways that are uncomfortable, both physically and psychologically. The reward (sometimes) is the opportunity to have once-in-a-lifetime experiences -- people, places, moments that stay with you forever.
You slog through the rain, and end up in a fairy tale castle. You hate a place, but are forced to stay an extra day, and end up loving it and having an incredible time. The day trip boat breaks and you are stranded with only pocket money, but strangers take you in, feed you, give you a bed, and won't hear of being repaid. The ferry goes aground on a shallow reef and the passengers begin to pass around their private flasks until the whole boat is rocking with a huge party. (Well, it was St. Patrick's Day AND the local police chief's birthday.) The Greek ferry is stuck in port for the entire day because of bad weather, but you make friends from another country that are still friends 30 years later.
Now when things go wrong, I have learned to keep my sense of humor, and to know that even if it doesn't turn into the "best" experience of the trip, it will at least make a great story.
But what I really want to say is how much these stories illuminate for me what I love about travel. You are forced to go beyond your ordinary life, sometimes in ways that are uncomfortable, both physically and psychologically. The reward (sometimes) is the opportunity to have once-in-a-lifetime experiences -- people, places, moments that stay with you forever.
You slog through the rain, and end up in a fairy tale castle. You hate a place, but are forced to stay an extra day, and end up loving it and having an incredible time. The day trip boat breaks and you are stranded with only pocket money, but strangers take you in, feed you, give you a bed, and won't hear of being repaid. The ferry goes aground on a shallow reef and the passengers begin to pass around their private flasks until the whole boat is rocking with a huge party. (Well, it was St. Patrick's Day AND the local police chief's birthday.) The Greek ferry is stuck in port for the entire day because of bad weather, but you make friends from another country that are still friends 30 years later.
Now when things go wrong, I have learned to keep my sense of humor, and to know that even if it doesn't turn into the "best" experience of the trip, it will at least make a great story.
Jun 8th, 2005, 11:25 PM
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Beautifully put, Marilyn.
In my case it was a trip across the desert towards Capital Reef National Park in Utah. We had a full size winnebago and we weren't experienced in driving and handling it.
Someone had the idea of taking a two lane road as a shortcut so we cut off the highway and after a while came head to head with a windstorm. We opened the windows on the SUV so it wouldn't create a vacuum, who knows, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.
One of our dogs panicked and tried to jump out of the window and pushed open the screen. He tried to jump out and the other dog wanted to follow him, abandoning ship. I guess they figured nature would be better to them if they followed their own instincts instead of ours. I sat in the back holding both big dogs while the wind and sand blew violently through the camper. Finally I could get the windows shut.
We crept along fighting the wind to get to an area that would be blocked from the storm. After a few hours (!) of this, sand was in everything, the SUV had rocked so much things had fallen out of the closets and from the counter even though they had been secured. The dog's drinking water had spilled and created a mud slick on the floor. The dog vomited on the bed.
Finally we pulled off the road where we saw a deserted ranger booth and spent the night there as best that we could. It was a terrible lonely feeling not to know where we were and to listen to the howling of the wind lashing at us. I was so scared I was shaking. The wind died down around 2AM and I took the dogs outside to relieve themselves.
There above me was the most beautiful night sky I had ever seen! A blanket of stars brighter than I could ever imagine. Pure silence and peace...and freezing cold air, so cold it hurt my nose to breathe. I could see a giant black formation ahead of us against the dark sky.
At daylight we went outside to see the most beautiful purple/orange mountain right across from us. The sun shone directly on it and separated it from the darker canyon walls behind and above us. The whole area was so beautiful it took my breath away and I wanted to fall to my knees. How could such force of violent nature lead us to this sublime peaceful scene of nature? It is a morning I will never forget.
In my case it was a trip across the desert towards Capital Reef National Park in Utah. We had a full size winnebago and we weren't experienced in driving and handling it.
Someone had the idea of taking a two lane road as a shortcut so we cut off the highway and after a while came head to head with a windstorm. We opened the windows on the SUV so it wouldn't create a vacuum, who knows, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.
One of our dogs panicked and tried to jump out of the window and pushed open the screen. He tried to jump out and the other dog wanted to follow him, abandoning ship. I guess they figured nature would be better to them if they followed their own instincts instead of ours. I sat in the back holding both big dogs while the wind and sand blew violently through the camper. Finally I could get the windows shut.
We crept along fighting the wind to get to an area that would be blocked from the storm. After a few hours (!) of this, sand was in everything, the SUV had rocked so much things had fallen out of the closets and from the counter even though they had been secured. The dog's drinking water had spilled and created a mud slick on the floor. The dog vomited on the bed.
Finally we pulled off the road where we saw a deserted ranger booth and spent the night there as best that we could. It was a terrible lonely feeling not to know where we were and to listen to the howling of the wind lashing at us. I was so scared I was shaking. The wind died down around 2AM and I took the dogs outside to relieve themselves.
There above me was the most beautiful night sky I had ever seen! A blanket of stars brighter than I could ever imagine. Pure silence and peace...and freezing cold air, so cold it hurt my nose to breathe. I could see a giant black formation ahead of us against the dark sky.
At daylight we went outside to see the most beautiful purple/orange mountain right across from us. The sun shone directly on it and separated it from the darker canyon walls behind and above us. The whole area was so beautiful it took my breath away and I wanted to fall to my knees. How could such force of violent nature lead us to this sublime peaceful scene of nature? It is a morning I will never forget.
Jun 9th, 2005, 09:01 AM
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Aww. . . Kate got to snuggle with a baby goat!
Funny, some of my most memorable stories involve animals. Once when we arrived late at night in Vaison-la-Romaine and then had the hair-and-insurance-premium raising experience of trying to navigate a 4 x 4 (don't ask why) through the narrow streets of the Haut Ville, we met a dog named Pixy, a spirit-guide, who showed us the way through town to the one restaurant that was still open, came in to the restaurant with us, and then walked us back to our B & B, where he stayed under our window for most of the night and then disappeared. Almost none of my pictures of him came out, although you can see his outline and shiny eyes of the picture I took of him while he was being mounted by his German Shepherd friend.
Then there was Tatu, the mooching poodle of Aigues Mortes. Oh, and then I remember one day when we were lost in the Cabardes. My husband did not call ahead to get directions for the place we were visiting or even write down the address. His attitude was like, "Oh, it's a small town, how hard can it be to find". Round and round and round we drove. Just as I was about to commit spousicide, we came around a bend and there was the cutest family of goats--Mama, Papa, and baby, right by the side of the road, staring at us. We took a great picture of them, but then the Papa Goat started to get a little annoyed with us, so we high-tailed it out of there. Never did find the place we were looking for.
Two years ago, in a restaurant in Limoux, my husband said something that reduced me to tears. Can't even remember what it was now. But our waiter, a 19-year-old kid with spiky platinum hair and lots of piercings, decided it was his job to cheer me up. He sang and told jokes and was very solicitous. Sweet kid.
Funny, some of my most memorable stories involve animals. Once when we arrived late at night in Vaison-la-Romaine and then had the hair-and-insurance-premium raising experience of trying to navigate a 4 x 4 (don't ask why) through the narrow streets of the Haut Ville, we met a dog named Pixy, a spirit-guide, who showed us the way through town to the one restaurant that was still open, came in to the restaurant with us, and then walked us back to our B & B, where he stayed under our window for most of the night and then disappeared. Almost none of my pictures of him came out, although you can see his outline and shiny eyes of the picture I took of him while he was being mounted by his German Shepherd friend.
Then there was Tatu, the mooching poodle of Aigues Mortes. Oh, and then I remember one day when we were lost in the Cabardes. My husband did not call ahead to get directions for the place we were visiting or even write down the address. His attitude was like, "Oh, it's a small town, how hard can it be to find". Round and round and round we drove. Just as I was about to commit spousicide, we came around a bend and there was the cutest family of goats--Mama, Papa, and baby, right by the side of the road, staring at us. We took a great picture of them, but then the Papa Goat started to get a little annoyed with us, so we high-tailed it out of there. Never did find the place we were looking for.
Two years ago, in a restaurant in Limoux, my husband said something that reduced me to tears. Can't even remember what it was now. But our waiter, a 19-year-old kid with spiky platinum hair and lots of piercings, decided it was his job to cheer me up. He sang and told jokes and was very solicitous. Sweet kid.
Jun 9th, 2005, 09:18 AM
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I'm resurrecting my story from a similar thread from 2003. . .
We were in Cordoba, Spain, and knew that the next day, Sunday, May 1, was a holiday. We checked at the bus station and verified with the ticket seller that, yes, the bus to the medina outside the city was running tomorrow. We arrived at the appointed time the next day to find the bus station totally closed. What to do in Cordoba on a Sunday and a holiday? We'd been there a few days, had been staying in unfortunate accomodations (peeving my Traveling Companion), and needed an out-of-town diversion.
I remembered a town we'd passed on the train from Seville: Almodovar del Rio. It was a tiny town at the foot of a hill topped by a castle. It looked so unusual sticking up in the middle of the flat valley that I'd checked my guide for info. The one-sentence description said precisely what I've written above, nothing more. No hints about anything to do or see.
I dragged my even-more peeved TC to the train station, saying I had an idea. Standingon the ticket line, our better day began immediately as we watched a drama unfold between an Italian tourist and her taxi driver--lots yelling and gestures regarding the taxi fare. Our train left less than 15 minutes later and we were lucky enough to be in the same car with the Italian tourist. She was still pretty miffed, but softened up considerably when a group of about 20 schoolkids who had witnessed the altercation began to serenade her.
We followed a small group of kids and their leader off the train and into the sleepy town. Meandering the main street, we took artistic photos and followed the road up hill and out of town. The sun was blazing overhead so we stopped for a beer at a roadside cafe. More good people watching as the locals arrived for their break from working nearby farms.
Then we walked up the dusty road to the castle. We wanted to get a closer look. We were surprised to find the gate open. The gatekeeper explained that this was a private residence, open to the public only on the first Sunday of each month--today! We paid 100 pesetas each and toured the ramparts and towers, the only visitors--great views of the valley and fun climbing up and down the towers and ledges. Soon we were joined by the group of kids we'd seen before. They began a game of soccer in the castle's courtyard--a questionable choice since mis-kicks flew out the main door and down the hill.
We had lunch back in town at the only open restaurant where we became part of a family birthday party for a local 10-year-old boy. It was nice to see that kids everywhere have the same fun at birthdays ("Ooooo--Batman!"
.
This turned out to be a great day after a very bad beginning.
We were in Cordoba, Spain, and knew that the next day, Sunday, May 1, was a holiday. We checked at the bus station and verified with the ticket seller that, yes, the bus to the medina outside the city was running tomorrow. We arrived at the appointed time the next day to find the bus station totally closed. What to do in Cordoba on a Sunday and a holiday? We'd been there a few days, had been staying in unfortunate accomodations (peeving my Traveling Companion), and needed an out-of-town diversion.
I remembered a town we'd passed on the train from Seville: Almodovar del Rio. It was a tiny town at the foot of a hill topped by a castle. It looked so unusual sticking up in the middle of the flat valley that I'd checked my guide for info. The one-sentence description said precisely what I've written above, nothing more. No hints about anything to do or see.
I dragged my even-more peeved TC to the train station, saying I had an idea. Standingon the ticket line, our better day began immediately as we watched a drama unfold between an Italian tourist and her taxi driver--lots yelling and gestures regarding the taxi fare. Our train left less than 15 minutes later and we were lucky enough to be in the same car with the Italian tourist. She was still pretty miffed, but softened up considerably when a group of about 20 schoolkids who had witnessed the altercation began to serenade her.
We followed a small group of kids and their leader off the train and into the sleepy town. Meandering the main street, we took artistic photos and followed the road up hill and out of town. The sun was blazing overhead so we stopped for a beer at a roadside cafe. More good people watching as the locals arrived for their break from working nearby farms.
Then we walked up the dusty road to the castle. We wanted to get a closer look. We were surprised to find the gate open. The gatekeeper explained that this was a private residence, open to the public only on the first Sunday of each month--today! We paid 100 pesetas each and toured the ramparts and towers, the only visitors--great views of the valley and fun climbing up and down the towers and ledges. Soon we were joined by the group of kids we'd seen before. They began a game of soccer in the castle's courtyard--a questionable choice since mis-kicks flew out the main door and down the hill.
We had lunch back in town at the only open restaurant where we became part of a family birthday party for a local 10-year-old boy. It was nice to see that kids everywhere have the same fun at birthdays ("Ooooo--Batman!"
.This turned out to be a great day after a very bad beginning.
Jun 9th, 2005, 12:20 PM
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Great thread! I have a couple...
Right after college, I spent a few weeks in the UK, based in London and taking small trips outside the city. I ended up in Sherringham (sp?) for a night. I went to a hostel that turned out to be more like a summer camp for kids. The kids weren't there yet, but there were no other guests there either. I went out for a long walk along the cliffs, came back, and there was still nobody there. In desperation, I asked the lady who ran the place if she could point me to a pub where young people hung out. She introduced me to the camp counselors, who were there because camp was starting the next day. They took me in, and we all had a great night at the pub.
Another time, as a student, I was hiking out on the Dingle Peninsula with a friend, in March, in a driving rain, trying to find the beehive huts. It hadn't been raining when we'd hitched our way halfway out there. Without reaching the huts, we decided to turn back while there were still cars on the road. We were picked up by two carloads of university girls who took us to a cozy pub, where we got acquainted over tea while an old man played an accordion in the corner. It was a perfect way to end what could have been a really disappointing chapter in the trip.
Right after college, I spent a few weeks in the UK, based in London and taking small trips outside the city. I ended up in Sherringham (sp?) for a night. I went to a hostel that turned out to be more like a summer camp for kids. The kids weren't there yet, but there were no other guests there either. I went out for a long walk along the cliffs, came back, and there was still nobody there. In desperation, I asked the lady who ran the place if she could point me to a pub where young people hung out. She introduced me to the camp counselors, who were there because camp was starting the next day. They took me in, and we all had a great night at the pub.
Another time, as a student, I was hiking out on the Dingle Peninsula with a friend, in March, in a driving rain, trying to find the beehive huts. It hadn't been raining when we'd hitched our way halfway out there. Without reaching the huts, we decided to turn back while there were still cars on the road. We were picked up by two carloads of university girls who took us to a cozy pub, where we got acquainted over tea while an old man played an accordion in the corner. It was a perfect way to end what could have been a really disappointing chapter in the trip.
Jun 9th, 2005, 01:58 PM
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I've thought of another string of very bad moments redeemed by a happy ending.
We were in Spain a few years ago with my husband's 10-years older Swedish cousin and his wife, both retirement age and wonderful in every way. We had spend several days in Madrid, but now we had a rental car and we were headed to southern Spain with stops along the way. My DH hates driving in the states, but for some reason, when he gets behind the wheel in Europe, he really puts the metal to the pedal. The cousin's wife is the kind of person who holds 3 maps and worries about everything. She kept telling DH to please drive "gentle", which meant, slow down please!! The cousin is a wonderful driver and never gets ruffled, even under extremely nervewracking circumstances, like 3 people shouting at him that he missed the exit, etc. etc.
We were only going as far as Toledo the first day, which is only an hour or so along an expressway. We had reservations at a small hotel. I had drunk too much coffee, orange juice and water for breakfast and I was in dire straits by the time we reached the town. It is a typical ancient walled city with much of the streets one-way and so narrow that we had to stop and back up out of some of them because we were in danger of being stuck. The guys had to get out of the car at one point and physically lift a motorbike out of the car's way! We were all getting extremely frazzled.
Well, of course, we did not have good directions to the hotel. My husband speaks pretty good Spanish, but most of the people who tried to help spoke so rapidly, he didn't understand them. Meanwhile, I'm dying in the back seat, about to explode. There is no place to pull over but I finally had to get out of the car and run ahead, trying to find a cafe or bar where I could use the facilities. I yelled for them to wait for me, but they couldn't pull over anywhere and had to keep going. I luckily found a small restaurant, but the 2 toilets were in use, of course! I hopped around, cursing at myself for getting into this predicament. Finally, on the edge of going mad, one of the bathrooms became available.
Now to try and find my compatriots! I was sure they were halfway across the city and having to make another round of the maze-like streets. How would we ever find each other? Luckily, they had found a young man who was able to lead the car up to the hotel, only a block from where I was. I found them without a problem, which was a miracle! And lo and behold, the hotel was a gem, the best one we had on the whole trip. And Toledo is still one of my favorite places to this day.
And I learned to go easy on the liquids when traveling by car, something we don't do unless absolutely necessary.
We were in Spain a few years ago with my husband's 10-years older Swedish cousin and his wife, both retirement age and wonderful in every way. We had spend several days in Madrid, but now we had a rental car and we were headed to southern Spain with stops along the way. My DH hates driving in the states, but for some reason, when he gets behind the wheel in Europe, he really puts the metal to the pedal. The cousin's wife is the kind of person who holds 3 maps and worries about everything. She kept telling DH to please drive "gentle", which meant, slow down please!! The cousin is a wonderful driver and never gets ruffled, even under extremely nervewracking circumstances, like 3 people shouting at him that he missed the exit, etc. etc.
We were only going as far as Toledo the first day, which is only an hour or so along an expressway. We had reservations at a small hotel. I had drunk too much coffee, orange juice and water for breakfast and I was in dire straits by the time we reached the town. It is a typical ancient walled city with much of the streets one-way and so narrow that we had to stop and back up out of some of them because we were in danger of being stuck. The guys had to get out of the car at one point and physically lift a motorbike out of the car's way! We were all getting extremely frazzled.
Well, of course, we did not have good directions to the hotel. My husband speaks pretty good Spanish, but most of the people who tried to help spoke so rapidly, he didn't understand them. Meanwhile, I'm dying in the back seat, about to explode. There is no place to pull over but I finally had to get out of the car and run ahead, trying to find a cafe or bar where I could use the facilities. I yelled for them to wait for me, but they couldn't pull over anywhere and had to keep going. I luckily found a small restaurant, but the 2 toilets were in use, of course! I hopped around, cursing at myself for getting into this predicament. Finally, on the edge of going mad, one of the bathrooms became available.
Now to try and find my compatriots! I was sure they were halfway across the city and having to make another round of the maze-like streets. How would we ever find each other? Luckily, they had found a young man who was able to lead the car up to the hotel, only a block from where I was. I found them without a problem, which was a miracle! And lo and behold, the hotel was a gem, the best one we had on the whole trip. And Toledo is still one of my favorite places to this day.
And I learned to go easy on the liquids when traveling by car, something we don't do unless absolutely necessary.
