Your worst "misadventure" in Europe?
Jun 13th, 2012, 07:12 PM
#1
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Your worst "misadventure" in Europe?
Traveling is supposed to be fun but sometimes the unexpected can happen and throw a big monkeywrench into your plans. maybe you lost your passport?..your wife even?...... maybe the hotel had no record of your booking......maybe you got food poisoning?? Pick something that turned a promising vacation into a stressful one. Kudos if you point out how it could have been reduced or avoided alltogether. Some of these could be educational or humorous, maybe both. I'll go first:
After missing the last tube of the night in London a cop directed me to a bus stop that would get me back to the city center. I boarded an increasingly crowded bus and realized after 20 minutes that nothing around me looked familiar. My GPS showed I was headed East of London in the WRONG direction. i had to jump off and switch.. tired, hungry, and not in the mood it took me almost an hour to reach the hotel and pass out. i should've been more mindful of when the last trains would leave or at least checked bus directions.
Getting thrown out of the Tower of London for photographing the Crown Jewels in front of 30 other tourists and my wife was pretty bad as well ;-)
After missing the last tube of the night in London a cop directed me to a bus stop that would get me back to the city center. I boarded an increasingly crowded bus and realized after 20 minutes that nothing around me looked familiar. My GPS showed I was headed East of London in the WRONG direction. i had to jump off and switch.. tired, hungry, and not in the mood it took me almost an hour to reach the hotel and pass out. i should've been more mindful of when the last trains would leave or at least checked bus directions.
Getting thrown out of the Tower of London for photographing the Crown Jewels in front of 30 other tourists and my wife was pretty bad as well ;-)
Jun 13th, 2012, 07:41 PM
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I read your trip report and about your bus misadventure.
I just thought of a few.
We ended up in a someone's chicken yard, looking at their coop, trying to drive from Lastra a Signa to Vinci in Tuscany. Followed a little road that turned out to be more of a driveway than a road.
We once were walking from Bellagio to a nearby restaurant on the outskirts of town, following poorly marked footpaths. A huge tractor or some such piece of farming equipment turned its lights and horn on us, and chased us out of a field in the dark. It seems we have a thing for getting lost in agrarian settings.
And then there was our honeymoon, when we lost one another in Doge's Palace in Venice. We both took off in different directions looking for the other, and finally met up outside after well over an hour. These were the days before cell phones of course.
I might think of more, but all these happened in Italy and jumped right into my memory when I read your post. None of these events were that stressful, except the Doge's Palace thing did shake us both up a little.
I just thought of a few.
We ended up in a someone's chicken yard, looking at their coop, trying to drive from Lastra a Signa to Vinci in Tuscany. Followed a little road that turned out to be more of a driveway than a road.
We once were walking from Bellagio to a nearby restaurant on the outskirts of town, following poorly marked footpaths. A huge tractor or some such piece of farming equipment turned its lights and horn on us, and chased us out of a field in the dark. It seems we have a thing for getting lost in agrarian settings.
And then there was our honeymoon, when we lost one another in Doge's Palace in Venice. We both took off in different directions looking for the other, and finally met up outside after well over an hour. These were the days before cell phones of course.
I might think of more, but all these happened in Italy and jumped right into my memory when I read your post. None of these events were that stressful, except the Doge's Palace thing did shake us both up a little.
Jun 13th, 2012, 10:23 PM
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2005 on a train from Vienna to Budapest, by myself. I hadn't really paid attention to the names of the train stations in Budapest. Apparently there were several, as it's a huge city. For some reason, I had a brain freeze as we got to the first station in the suburbs - I saw the name "Budapest" and whatever the station name was and panicked - ohmygod, am I supposed to get off here??? I knew the train was continuing on to Belgrade.
Common sense should have told me that lots of people would be getting off at the main Budapest stop - and by then I had been on many trains and to Europe by myself several times - but for some reason in this moment of panic, because I hadn't been paying attention and hadn't thought about the station names, and I didn't want to get stuck going all the way to Belgrade, and I wasn't thinking clearly, so...I grabbed all of my bags and hopped off the train! They don't stop long at these little stops; I didn't have enough time to change my mind. The train was gone in a few seconds. Then I realized I was FAR from the center of Budapest at some tiny suburban train station, with no ATM nearby, no Hungarian money, and knowing not a word of Hungarian!
I tried to avoid freaking out. It was early in the day so I knew I wouldn't be stuck there, but I was also supposed to meet someone in Budapest later on. How would I get in touch with her if I was late? How would I buy another ticket? How late would I really be?
In the end I calmed down enough to read the posted train schedules of incoming trains headed on to Budapest. I saw another one due - a regional train - in about 20 minutes, so when it came I just hopped on. I didn't have a ticket or Hungarian money. I assumed my prior ticket was useless. What would I do? I just stayed between cars, the ride wasn't that long, maybe 20 minutes, and no conductor came. I got off at the correct station and still made it to my appointment in plenty of time - whew!
Not sure that qualifies as a "misadventure" as I wasn't stuck overnight or something awful like that - but it was such a stupid mistake, and I was kicking myself all afternoon over it, even though it turned out OK.
Common sense should have told me that lots of people would be getting off at the main Budapest stop - and by then I had been on many trains and to Europe by myself several times - but for some reason in this moment of panic, because I hadn't been paying attention and hadn't thought about the station names, and I didn't want to get stuck going all the way to Belgrade, and I wasn't thinking clearly, so...I grabbed all of my bags and hopped off the train! They don't stop long at these little stops; I didn't have enough time to change my mind. The train was gone in a few seconds. Then I realized I was FAR from the center of Budapest at some tiny suburban train station, with no ATM nearby, no Hungarian money, and knowing not a word of Hungarian!
I tried to avoid freaking out. It was early in the day so I knew I wouldn't be stuck there, but I was also supposed to meet someone in Budapest later on. How would I get in touch with her if I was late? How would I buy another ticket? How late would I really be?
In the end I calmed down enough to read the posted train schedules of incoming trains headed on to Budapest. I saw another one due - a regional train - in about 20 minutes, so when it came I just hopped on. I didn't have a ticket or Hungarian money. I assumed my prior ticket was useless. What would I do? I just stayed between cars, the ride wasn't that long, maybe 20 minutes, and no conductor came. I got off at the correct station and still made it to my appointment in plenty of time - whew!
Not sure that qualifies as a "misadventure" as I wasn't stuck overnight or something awful like that - but it was such a stupid mistake, and I was kicking myself all afternoon over it, even though it turned out OK.
Jun 13th, 2012, 11:51 PM
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Mine revovles around rental cars. About almost going over cliffs, driving in restricted areas, taking off other people's sideview mirror, paying for tickets on the spot, finding myself in the midst of 1,000 bike race,and having a trunk filled with 60 pounds of octopi.
Jun 14th, 2012, 02:22 AM
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My girlfriend and I were planning on touring though the Netherlands, Germany and Denmark. As we left Schiphol airport in a rental car, we made a wrong turn and went southwest towards Belgium instead of east towards Germany. We could have turned around after 20 miles but decided to carry on towards France and Switzerland.
If that happened now I would stop the car and cry. Back then it was all part of the fun.
If that happened now I would stop the car and cry. Back then it was all part of the fun.
Jun 14th, 2012, 04:02 AM
#6
We have had two. During a trip to London and Paris (with our children (2 and 7 at the time), and my inlaws), we learned, rather sadly, that our beloved dog had passed away at home; this put a cloud over us from the start, but we were bound to enjoy the holiday. From London we took the Eurostar to Paris and were laden with luggage, car seat, and a stroller, but could not connect with our VRBO host for anything. We spent the afternoon not sightseeing, but waiting outside the building and calling the owner, while one of us roamed the Marais looking for a hotel as backup. We found a hotel, dropped our luggage, and went for dinner, a little downhearted over missing a day of sightseeing, not to mention having to sort out the apartment problem. We returned to the hotel around 9:00 p.m. and discovered that the VRBO host had tracked us down by going to every hotel in the Marais! The concierge called him and he promptly took us to the apartment. For all that went awry, we all look fondly back on that trip.
The second mishap was more recent, in 2011, and the children were much older and therefore more helpful! This was our first all-train trip; we flew into Frankfurt to enjoy the week in Amsterdam, and then trained via Cologne to Oberwesel for a night in a castle before departing the following day from Frankfurt. On the morning of departure we checked out of the castle and went to St. Goar to tour the castle ruins, noting the train schedule for the RegionalBahn to Frankfurt airport from St. Goar. Except there wasn't a RegionalBahn from St. Goar. We had read the schedule incorrectly, which cost us an additional 90 minutes of waiting on the platform for a connecting train. On top of that we had the wrong tickets for the train, but I think the conductor took pity on us. We arrived at Frankfurt airport with 33 minutes to check in for the last flight home of the day, clear immigration, and race to our plane at Gate A67, all while pulling our luggage as it was too late to check. Only after we collapsed in our seats did we all start laughing.
The second mishap was more recent, in 2011, and the children were much older and therefore more helpful! This was our first all-train trip; we flew into Frankfurt to enjoy the week in Amsterdam, and then trained via Cologne to Oberwesel for a night in a castle before departing the following day from Frankfurt. On the morning of departure we checked out of the castle and went to St. Goar to tour the castle ruins, noting the train schedule for the RegionalBahn to Frankfurt airport from St. Goar. Except there wasn't a RegionalBahn from St. Goar. We had read the schedule incorrectly, which cost us an additional 90 minutes of waiting on the platform for a connecting train. On top of that we had the wrong tickets for the train, but I think the conductor took pity on us. We arrived at Frankfurt airport with 33 minutes to check in for the last flight home of the day, clear immigration, and race to our plane at Gate A67, all while pulling our luggage as it was too late to check. Only after we collapsed in our seats did we all start laughing.
Jun 14th, 2012, 09:26 AM
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wow these are some GOOD ones! it's good to laugh about this stuff now but not when it was going on. getting chased out of a field in the middle of the night...almost driving over a cliff... jeez 
Jun 14th, 2012, 10:38 AM
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What great posts. I’ve been fending off disaster for years in my travels. But the time I felt like a complete idiot was in Germany, 2001. On 9/10/2001, I made non-refundable reservations to Frankfurt. In the ensuing month after 9/11, the world waited, scared to death to fly. I was determined to go, so in mid-October, I went, terrified. Security was incredible, obviously. I had a great vacation, but when I was leaving Germany I wanted to be sure I made it in plenty of time to the airport for a Sunday 11:30 am flight. I was staying at a small hotel, the Luther, in Freinsheim on the Weinstrasse about an hour away from FRA. I set the alarm for 5:00, giving myself lots of time. I dressed and carried my bag downstairs to check out. Reception was closed, all the lights out, not a soul around. Well, I thought, I’ll leave the key and head out. I tried the door to parking. Locked. I tried the front entrance. Locked. All the doors to outside were locked. How was I to leave the hotel?
I went back to the room and called the desk, hoping someone might answer. No luck. I wandered around the quiet hotel trying not to wake others and found an upstairs door leading to a bridge from the hotel across a little alleyway to the old medieval wall around the town. I could open it from the inside, but in the dark, afraid there would be no passage and the door would lock behind me, I propped it open with my suitcase. With some trepidation, I took out my tiny flashlight and headed across the passage to a stone staircase on the other side. Down I went, the steps barely lit by my light, into a dark, damp yard. I tiptoed through high, dense vegetation in the direction of the parking area, when my movement awoke the chickens. Their squawking awakened the dogs who took up the alarm. Mortified amidst the din, I found myself facing a high stone wall. No gate. I looked for something to stand on, thinking I could crawl over. Nothing except those chickens. I went the other direction and found a stout wooden gate. Locked.
My light fading, I went back upstairs, retrieved my luggage and went back to reception where I tried my room key in the lock to the back door. It worked! I hauled the suitcase out and looked for a place to drop the key. Nothing. I went back inside and had to lock the door behind me because it wouldn’t automatically lock itself. I tried the front door to the courtyard. It opened but the courtyard gate was bolted. The key didn’t open it. What was I to do? It was already past 6:00. I couldn’t miss my flight, so after waiting another half an hour, hoping the kitchen help would show up and getting panicky, I decided to just go, lock the door behind me and mail the key back.
I got to the airport in plenty of time, dropped off the car, and got in the line at security. They spent half an hour questioning everything I had with me, my suitcase, camera, a translator. How long did I have them? Who gave them to me? How long had I known those people (husband, best friend). Finally through security, and running late, I hurried to the gate. At 11:00, the flight had not been called. I kept checking my watch, then finally noticed a clock on the wall. Checked my watch again. One hour difference. Daylight savings time had come to Germany that night. Upon my return I had a very terse e-mail from the hotel asking for their key back. I’ll never be able to stay there again. Of course, I don’t have to. I live in Germany now, about an hour from the Weinstrasse. And continuing to have one bizarre adventure after another.
I went back to the room and called the desk, hoping someone might answer. No luck. I wandered around the quiet hotel trying not to wake others and found an upstairs door leading to a bridge from the hotel across a little alleyway to the old medieval wall around the town. I could open it from the inside, but in the dark, afraid there would be no passage and the door would lock behind me, I propped it open with my suitcase. With some trepidation, I took out my tiny flashlight and headed across the passage to a stone staircase on the other side. Down I went, the steps barely lit by my light, into a dark, damp yard. I tiptoed through high, dense vegetation in the direction of the parking area, when my movement awoke the chickens. Their squawking awakened the dogs who took up the alarm. Mortified amidst the din, I found myself facing a high stone wall. No gate. I looked for something to stand on, thinking I could crawl over. Nothing except those chickens. I went the other direction and found a stout wooden gate. Locked.
My light fading, I went back upstairs, retrieved my luggage and went back to reception where I tried my room key in the lock to the back door. It worked! I hauled the suitcase out and looked for a place to drop the key. Nothing. I went back inside and had to lock the door behind me because it wouldn’t automatically lock itself. I tried the front door to the courtyard. It opened but the courtyard gate was bolted. The key didn’t open it. What was I to do? It was already past 6:00. I couldn’t miss my flight, so after waiting another half an hour, hoping the kitchen help would show up and getting panicky, I decided to just go, lock the door behind me and mail the key back.
I got to the airport in plenty of time, dropped off the car, and got in the line at security. They spent half an hour questioning everything I had with me, my suitcase, camera, a translator. How long did I have them? Who gave them to me? How long had I known those people (husband, best friend). Finally through security, and running late, I hurried to the gate. At 11:00, the flight had not been called. I kept checking my watch, then finally noticed a clock on the wall. Checked my watch again. One hour difference. Daylight savings time had come to Germany that night. Upon my return I had a very terse e-mail from the hotel asking for their key back. I’ll never be able to stay there again. Of course, I don’t have to. I live in Germany now, about an hour from the Weinstrasse. And continuing to have one bizarre adventure after another.
Jun 14th, 2012, 12:03 PM
#9
Let's see, Here are the ones I remember.
Trying to show off my terrific French on one of my first trips, instead of ordering "chocolate cake" I ordered a "chocolate cat."
Trying to get through a toll gate outside of Florence with no ticket and 30 cars behind us all none to pleased with the "Stupid Americans." After only speaking in Italian for about two minutes as four of us searched the car for the ticket to pay the toll, finally a ticket appeared in the machine and a voice (speaking now in perfect English) sternly said, "Take the ticket and Go Away!"
Nearly mowing down three nuns in Florence.
On my first trip to Florence, all the one way streets seemed to be going the wrong way to our hotel, so in desperation I backed up (very fast) on a one way street going the wrong way (lucky I wasn't arrested for that one).
Driving on what I thought was a nice, large parking lot looking fir a space, but instead I was driving on the car-free town square of Trevi.
Not knowing how to put the car in reverse, and having to push our rental car backward into a parking space in Spello.
And, of course, putting Super Gas in a Diesel Car outside of Gubbio.
It's amazing my passport has not been revoked.
Trying to show off my terrific French on one of my first trips, instead of ordering "chocolate cake" I ordered a "chocolate cat."
Trying to get through a toll gate outside of Florence with no ticket and 30 cars behind us all none to pleased with the "Stupid Americans." After only speaking in Italian for about two minutes as four of us searched the car for the ticket to pay the toll, finally a ticket appeared in the machine and a voice (speaking now in perfect English) sternly said, "Take the ticket and Go Away!"
Nearly mowing down three nuns in Florence.
On my first trip to Florence, all the one way streets seemed to be going the wrong way to our hotel, so in desperation I backed up (very fast) on a one way street going the wrong way (lucky I wasn't arrested for that one).
Driving on what I thought was a nice, large parking lot looking fir a space, but instead I was driving on the car-free town square of Trevi.
Not knowing how to put the car in reverse, and having to push our rental car backward into a parking space in Spello.
And, of course, putting Super Gas in a Diesel Car outside of Gubbio.
It's amazing my passport has not been revoked.
Jun 14th, 2012, 12:25 PM
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Ah, reading Maitai's response puts me in the mood for a new MaitaiTom and Tracey trip report. I hope you're going somewhere soon! I always love reading about your adventures! (and misadventures)
Tailsock, I really enjoyed your blog and pictures. You have a great travel style. You should checkout Maitai's trip reports, too. I think you may be kindred spirits. You both have great travel attitudes -- and, it seems, great travel partners.
Tailsock, I really enjoyed your blog and pictures. You have a great travel style. You should checkout Maitai's trip reports, too. I think you may be kindred spirits. You both have great travel attitudes -- and, it seems, great travel partners
.
Jun 14th, 2012, 12:35 PM
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Sorry, one more driving story. We were in Perugia and I must have made a wrong turn. I could see a cop's face turn red from two blocks away. Mrs. Adu and I speak enough Spanish that we get the gist of the converartion in Italian. I told her that we do not understand a word he is going to say us. I remember a story Clement Freud told years ago. He was stopped in Spain by the police for speeding and although he speaks Spanish, he pretended he did not. He took out a phrase books and said in Spanish to the police, "I need an enema."
They let him go. Quickly I assume.
When we arrived at the cop, he screamed at me. I just looked at with a puzzled look and kept on saying "Hotel?" Hotel?" and he let us go.
They let him go. Quickly I assume.
When we arrived at the cop, he screamed at me. I just looked at with a puzzled look and kept on saying "Hotel?" Hotel?" and he let us go.
Jun 14th, 2012, 12:51 PM
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A few years ago my wife and I were at one of the Greek ruins sites in Sicily (can't remember which). We had to climb what must have been a couple of thousand feet to the top of the hill to view the old theatre. It was cold and damp and our descent was highlighted by drizzle turning to rain turning to sleet. At the little station at the bottom we needed acouple of coretti to get blood flowing.
As we left we noticed that we needed fuel. We drove around interior Sicily (which is essentially vacant) for a long time, watching the gas guage descend. Believe me, there was no one and no sign of habitation. I finally passed another motorist and flagged him down. Somehow my insuffucient Italian finally got through, but he didn't know the territory. Minutes later (thank god) we came across the same guy again and he said the nearest station was "centro metri". Sure enough the station was just around the corner! A day of infamy!
As we left we noticed that we needed fuel. We drove around interior Sicily (which is essentially vacant) for a long time, watching the gas guage descend. Believe me, there was no one and no sign of habitation. I finally passed another motorist and flagged him down. Somehow my insuffucient Italian finally got through, but he didn't know the territory. Minutes later (thank god) we came across the same guy again and he said the nearest station was "centro metri". Sure enough the station was just around the corner! A day of infamy!
Jun 14th, 2012, 01:00 PM
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Mine tend to involve when I am alone (and I'm about to try to have solo day trips while DH works near Frankfurt--oh, my, cautionary tales for myself!)--
In London sightseeing this and that, alone while DH rested, I took some pix of the American Embassy. I must have crossed some line, because a suddenly pretty irate security person scolded me. The nearby guard-with-automatic-weapon just shrugged, but I scooted away and took a few pix from Grosvenor Square but not upclose anymore. Wandered up to Oxford Street; went into Marks and Spencer. Two uniformed police approached me--Excuse me, miss, no problem but can we have a word? You were taking pictures at the Embassy, right? They took my passport to check, I offered to show my pix on the camera which they looked at, they wrote up a "Successful stop" and I still don't know what I did to send those red flags up! It really wasn't stressful until it hit me a little later; and by the time I made it back to the rooms to tell DH, it was actually funny (although I did hold my breath a little when passport checked the next day! Ha!)
In Rome, I was with a group of student-tour-group-leaders on a training conference. Despite my DH's cautions before I left home--Stay with the group!-- I decided to strike out on my own in the late November afternoon as I wanted to walk on a bridge over the Tiber; I got separated from my couple of new-found-friends so I just set out. Soon nothing was matching up with the map I had. It got dark. I still had an hour before meeting the group near the Emmanuel Memorial for our transport to dinner. But I began to decide I was lost and maybe I should stop and get a taxi. I stepped into a hole in the sidewalk (where? no clue!) in the dirt ring around a tree and bam! fell to my knees with my SonyDSLR around my neck pulling my face further down so I bonked my mouth on the sidewalk! A man with trayful of bread said, Oh signora! and kept on working. Oh, well. I got up. Camera ok (well, one little dent in guard-thing); no limbs broken; lip definitely bleeding and already puffed up but no teeth chipped! I went into a chocolate shop (where? no clue!) and despite their limited English and my non-existent Italian, they called a taxi, which arrived in 5 minutes, and I was deposited at our meeting point 15-20 minutes early. Lesson? Have better map! DH would say Don't go off by myself!
In London sightseeing this and that, alone while DH rested, I took some pix of the American Embassy. I must have crossed some line, because a suddenly pretty irate security person scolded me. The nearby guard-with-automatic-weapon just shrugged, but I scooted away and took a few pix from Grosvenor Square but not upclose anymore. Wandered up to Oxford Street; went into Marks and Spencer. Two uniformed police approached me--Excuse me, miss, no problem but can we have a word? You were taking pictures at the Embassy, right? They took my passport to check, I offered to show my pix on the camera which they looked at, they wrote up a "Successful stop" and I still don't know what I did to send those red flags up! It really wasn't stressful until it hit me a little later; and by the time I made it back to the rooms to tell DH, it was actually funny (although I did hold my breath a little when passport checked the next day! Ha!)
In Rome, I was with a group of student-tour-group-leaders on a training conference. Despite my DH's cautions before I left home--Stay with the group!-- I decided to strike out on my own in the late November afternoon as I wanted to walk on a bridge over the Tiber; I got separated from my couple of new-found-friends so I just set out. Soon nothing was matching up with the map I had. It got dark. I still had an hour before meeting the group near the Emmanuel Memorial for our transport to dinner. But I began to decide I was lost and maybe I should stop and get a taxi. I stepped into a hole in the sidewalk (where? no clue!) in the dirt ring around a tree and bam! fell to my knees with my SonyDSLR around my neck pulling my face further down so I bonked my mouth on the sidewalk! A man with trayful of bread said, Oh signora! and kept on working. Oh, well. I got up. Camera ok (well, one little dent in guard-thing); no limbs broken; lip definitely bleeding and already puffed up but no teeth chipped! I went into a chocolate shop (where? no clue!) and despite their limited English and my non-existent Italian, they called a taxi, which arrived in 5 minutes, and I was deposited at our meeting point 15-20 minutes early. Lesson? Have better map! DH would say Don't go off by myself!
Jun 14th, 2012, 01:12 PM
#15
In planning a 10 night stay on Lake Como in Italy we booked 9 nights at The Grand Tremezzo Hotel, leaving the last night open as we were sure that in our travels around the lake we would find a quaint little place to spend our last night.
When it was getting close with 2 nights left at The Tremezzo, we decided to ask at the desk for help to find our dream place.
You could hear the desk clerks laugh all the way through the lobby. "You are looking for accommodations for THIS weekend?" "THIS Sat. night?" "This is Monza weekend, you won't find a place to stay within 300 miles." I guess we forgot to check our race schedule.
Next the clerk asked if we had ever been to Bergamo? She could get us in there. Off we went on a new adventure to somewhere we had not even heard of. What a delightful town. We had a great day & night wandering the pedestrian streets, checking out an interesing market, and hearing some nice street music.
And, lesson learned. It's called---reservations! Don't leave home without them!
On another trip, our luggage was lost going to Paris for 3 weeks. We received it at home after the trip. Thankfully, I pack a good carry-on. It was an eye-opening experience because we both learned that we didn't need all that stuff. It was nice to look in the closet and not have so much to choose from.
For some people, it would have ruined their trip trying to track it down every day. The first call, we were told it went to Croatia so we were done looking for it. We moved on and had one of our best trips to Paris & the Loire Valley.
Lesson learned---pack a good carry-on, choose an apt. with a washer/dryer, & wear lots of black!
When it was getting close with 2 nights left at The Tremezzo, we decided to ask at the desk for help to find our dream place.
You could hear the desk clerks laugh all the way through the lobby. "You are looking for accommodations for THIS weekend?" "THIS Sat. night?" "This is Monza weekend, you won't find a place to stay within 300 miles." I guess we forgot to check our race schedule.
Next the clerk asked if we had ever been to Bergamo? She could get us in there. Off we went on a new adventure to somewhere we had not even heard of. What a delightful town. We had a great day & night wandering the pedestrian streets, checking out an interesing market, and hearing some nice street music.
And, lesson learned. It's called---reservations! Don't leave home without them!
On another trip, our luggage was lost going to Paris for 3 weeks. We received it at home after the trip. Thankfully, I pack a good carry-on. It was an eye-opening experience because we both learned that we didn't need all that stuff. It was nice to look in the closet and not have so much to choose from.
For some people, it would have ruined their trip trying to track it down every day. The first call, we were told it went to Croatia so we were done looking for it. We moved on and had one of our best trips to Paris & the Loire Valley.
Lesson learned---pack a good carry-on, choose an apt. with a washer/dryer, & wear lots of black!
Jun 14th, 2012, 01:31 PM
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our luggage did not arrive from Croatia to Paris.
Air France gave us an emergency 'kit"....tooth brush and paste,
a comb,and several other items including a condom!
This was more than ten years ago.
I don't know if their policy has changed.
Now, we travel with carry ons
Air France gave us an emergency 'kit"....tooth brush and paste,
a comb,and several other items including a condom!
This was more than ten years ago.
I don't know if their policy has changed.
Now, we travel with carry ons
Jun 14th, 2012, 01:36 PM
#19
My luggage has only been delayed one single time, and it was on the way home. They delivered it by taxi to my apartment the next morning. I was trying to figure out how to have that happen every time!!
Jun 14th, 2012, 02:28 PM
#20
Join Date: Jun 2004
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One of my misadventures happened many years ago (1970's), when I was not familiar with Italian trains. I was sailing from Cyprus to Marseilles single handed, and had tied up my ketch against the quai in Fiumicino (the port/fishing village on the Tiber, not the airport). I wanted to get into Rome to look for someone to crew with me.(Long story) My plan was to write out a sign on the back of a chart, "Yacht Crew Wanted", and sit on the Spanish steps until someone came along looking for a low cost adventure; sharing food costs as we sailed together to the south of France.
Anyway, I rolled my chart and caught the local train that ran into Rome. I had asked the proper stop from the Captain of the Port, who spoke a bit of English, and away I went. I kept checking the name of each stop, as I had no idea how far mine was, but I had difficulty seeing the signs, and had to get up from my seat to see them.
Finally, I saw my station sign, and rushed back to my seat to get my chart/sign, and hurried off the train.
What I didn't realize was, 1) how short the stops were, and 2) how smoothly the train started, so I had one foot in the air over the platform before I realized the train was moving.
Fast!
"Oh, S#*t", I said, as my leading foot hit the concrete, shortly followed by the rest of my cartwheeling body. I tumbled a considerable distance down the platform, narrowly missing a pillar that would have stopped me, but probably broken a number of things I consider important.
I was instantly surrounded by a crowd of concerned Italians, who were gesticulating wildly, and loudly shouting things I didn't understand; probably ranging from, "Call an Ambulance", to "Did you see what that a**hole American just did?". They picked me up, dusted me off asked about my well being (I suppose) and handed me back my sign. I told them I was OK, shook off their offers of help, and slunk away as quickly as I could hobble.
I had a number of scrapes, and some bruises the size of New Jersey, but was not seriously hurt. My most lasting and painful contusion was to my pride. I really felt foolish, clumsy, and embarrassed.
I did get to the Spanish Steps, and did get a nice Dutch/Australian couple to crew for me, but I was surprised they trusted the disheveled chap with the tattered shirt, bleeding from his knees and elbows.
Anyway, I rolled my chart and caught the local train that ran into Rome. I had asked the proper stop from the Captain of the Port, who spoke a bit of English, and away I went. I kept checking the name of each stop, as I had no idea how far mine was, but I had difficulty seeing the signs, and had to get up from my seat to see them.
Finally, I saw my station sign, and rushed back to my seat to get my chart/sign, and hurried off the train.
What I didn't realize was, 1) how short the stops were, and 2) how smoothly the train started, so I had one foot in the air over the platform before I realized the train was moving.
Fast!
"Oh, S#*t", I said, as my leading foot hit the concrete, shortly followed by the rest of my cartwheeling body. I tumbled a considerable distance down the platform, narrowly missing a pillar that would have stopped me, but probably broken a number of things I consider important.
I was instantly surrounded by a crowd of concerned Italians, who were gesticulating wildly, and loudly shouting things I didn't understand; probably ranging from, "Call an Ambulance", to "Did you see what that a**hole American just did?". They picked me up, dusted me off asked about my well being (I suppose) and handed me back my sign. I told them I was OK, shook off their offers of help, and slunk away as quickly as I could hobble.
I had a number of scrapes, and some bruises the size of New Jersey, but was not seriously hurt. My most lasting and painful contusion was to my pride. I really felt foolish, clumsy, and embarrassed.
I did get to the Spanish Steps, and did get a nice Dutch/Australian couple to crew for me, but I was surprised they trusted the disheveled chap with the tattered shirt, bleeding from his knees and elbows.
