wes fowler

During my first trip to Europe many, many years ago, I was perhaps too young, ignorant and naïve to be intimidated by anything I encountered, though the sign "Correspondance" in Paris' Metro threw me for a bit. I'd never experienced a sense of intimidation in well over a dozen subsequent trips to well over a dozen European countries over the years, probably due to careful, thoughtful and really comprehensive pre-planning. Last October, on a whim, I made a day trip from Vienna to Budapest and experienced intimidation on a grand scale. A first exposure to the Hungarian language left me at a total loss. I couldn't commit the names of Metro stops or street names to memory. I racketed about on public transportation with no conception of where I was, couldn't remember where I wanted to be or how to get there if I could figure out what and where there was. Directional signs were meaningless; schedules impenetrable. Dining was an adventure. While the thought of stilling hunger pangs at the KFC or Dunkin Donuts near the train station crossed my mind, I opted for a non-tourist oriented café in the wilds of Pest and ordered and dined on I know not what. In all, an interesting, challenging and revelatory day which prompts the questions: What has intimidated you in your travels? What was your reaction: amusement, bemusement, anger, frustration? How did you cope?

adrienne

Wes, <BR> <BR>Many years ago I was traveling with my mother by train from Vienna to Switzerland. Little did we know that the train passed through Germany and ended there. Apparently everyone else on the train got off at the previous stop to transfer. When we realized that there was no one else left on the train I told my mother to stay on the train while I went onto the platform to look for signs of where we were. I left my luggage and purse (with passport and money) on the train as I was only hopping off for a minute. During that "minute" the train started moving out of the station (with mother, passport, and money) and a man on the platform indicated that I should follow him into the station. Meanwhile, I was jumping up and down, pointing at the departing train, and yelling "the train is leaving with my mother on it." I was hysterical and could do nothing but follow this fellow into the station where the station master asked for my passport (the same word in German and English so I knew what he meant). I explained the situation in English and he asked again, in German, for my passport. After repeating this scenario several times, and pulling the pockets of my jeans inside out to show I had nothing on me, I was about to begin crying since I didn't know where I was (someplace in Germany) and had no passport and no money. No one spoke English for several minutes during this exchange when the station master finally explained in flawless English that the train went into the yard to change cars and would be right back. For a brief time I was intimidated and scared and absolutely relieved when the train did indeed return to the station. I'm also sure I completely over-reacted to the situation since I had limited travel experience then. I also learned a lesson...never leave your passport and money any place - not even for a minute! <BR> <BR>Adrienne <BR> <BR>

Sheila

When I was 17 I spent 6 weeks in Italy with a family which was intending to move to the US and wanted to improve their English..so I was there for conversation. A great deal about that trip was awful- mostly my fault- but it did lead to me first serious bout of drunkenness(would that there had been no more). <BR> <BR>I went with papa to Milan on a business trip so we could converse in the car. He went off to his meetings having arranged to meet for lunch. We went to the restaurant with a colleague of his. I was the only non-male in the place. My Italian was three weeks into "Teach Yourself". The expensively dressed waiter kept filling my wine glass. <BR> <BR>After the meal, I went to the loo. I (spare not my blushes) used the bidet by mistake. I then realised how legless I was and went and hid in a cafe drinking strong expresso all afternoon. I blush even now to recall the scene...

xxx

Hey Wes, I made that same day trip from Vienna to Budapest last October! Maybe we were on the same train (*grin*) <BR> <BR>I don't know about you, but all those Hungarian soldiers and police officers who boarded the train at every stop intimidated me somewhat. I was a solo woman and a little nervous when my passport was demanded four times on the inbound train and three times on the outbound train, each from a different soldier or officer who had guns strapped all over his body. They also walked up and down the train corridors, patrolling them during the entire trip. O.K., they overthrew communism over ten years ago, didn't they? You'd never guess it. But hey, nothing happened, some even tried to speak a little English, so I guess it was just visual intimidation. <BR> <BR>I had a Hungarian phrase book with me, and a few furtive glances at it helped me decipher the code at the train station and so forth. Running the gauntlet of gypsies and street merchants who lined the exit from the train station was also intimidating, as all I saw were outstretched hands on either side and pleas (I'm assuming) to buy something. And one glance at the metro told me I would be walking. There was no way I was going to press through the crush of people at the entrance, all of whom seemed to be pawing each other. <BR>Crossing the street in Budapest was intimidating as well; pedestrians in crosswalks mean nothing to the pedal-to-the-metal Hungarians. Find a kid or old lady to cross with and they might stop. <BR> <BR>But overall, I think it was one of the biggest adventures of my life, and I'd go back to Hungary in a heartbeat. It was nervewracking to go alone but I was proud of myself for doing it.

Al

Very foolishly, I took a train from Brussels to Ostend, ferry to Dover, and train from Dover into London, arriving alone and very late at night. I say "foolishly" because I was wearing a suit and tie, carrying a suitcase, when I arrived in London. No cabs in sight. So I went into the "underground" and caught what surely must have been the last train from Waterloo Station to Marble Arch. You wouldn't believe the kind of people who were on that "last train" -- and I thought surely it would be my last! Great hulking, muscular, tatooed monsters. And those were the women!!! You should have seen the men!!! <BR>But nobody bothered me; they were too busy playing their guitars and singing away, all roaring drunk. I tried to make myself invisible.

John

I was working on an assignment in pre-Ayatollah Iran, in a major city on the Caspian Sea. On a day off I went to photograph some of the interesting old buildings in the town. Just after I snapped a pic of a cute old house a small police officer with a really large gun pointed said gun at me (the caliber looked like "garden hose") and invited me to accompany him (via a commandeered civilian car - one of the perks of being a police officer I guess) to the jail. I was presented to the captain (sergeant, general, whatever) who asked me why was I photographing that building. "I thought it was cute" wasn't enough of an answer, I guess, because he kept looking at my ID and I kept suggesting he phone the provincial government office (who knew of our assignment) etc. I sat in his office with the small copper looking on, until he made the right call, hung up, looked sheepish, offered me tea, and saluted. The arresting officer was last seen hustling out of the courtyard, the other cops laughing. <BR> <BR>I was totally in the dark about why I was apprehended, never mind saluted. I was then offered a ride back to my hotel, good day, sir. Intimidated? Well, scared blankless if you must know, but bewildered is really closer to the mark. <BR> <BR>I was informed the next day that the cute building was the secret police ("Savak") headquarters for the city. The salute had followed a conversation between the cop in charge and the secret cops really in charge. <BR>

Bob Brown

Wes, if by intimidating you mean scared [x]itless that you were going to be assaulted, the answer is YES. (where x is any letter or combination thereof you care to insert -- e.g. w)A few years ago, when I had more more energy than brains and more brains than money, I was on a my European Odyssey. It was early spring, and in Munich I bought a green hat of distinct Bavarian styling. Nice warm hat. I got to Paris, and was walking along Pont Neuf with it on, when a huge !! Frenchman walked past me, looked at me with contempt and hatred, and barked BOCHE in my face. Speaking about much French as my cat, but having seen a few war films I knew that word!! <BR>I was a little concerned that he might throw me over the side. (It was not exactly the type of weather for an impromptu swim in the Seine! ) <BR>I quickly whipped out my passport and showed it to him and said "Americain", or something to that effect. He grunted, pointed to the hat, and made a sign like take it off! Within an hour I was clad in a beret!! Glad it was daylight.

elvira

The gamut of intimidation (sublime to the "x"less): <BR> <BR>First trip to Paris, on my own, I decided to go to Jules Verne restaurant for lunch. I was dressed in a navy dress, stockings, navy shoes, no camera or guidebook in sight. The 'receptionist' (and I use the term loosely, given the definition of the word) looked at me and snarled "reservation?". Mind you, the place was COMPLETELY empty. I said "non, pardon, pas reservation" and she haughtily spit out "no reservation? we cannot serve you". Four Japanese people came in, speaking Japanese, and she just beamed at them, and took them to a table. I stood there like a schlub...I couldn't figure out what I'd done to deserve such terrible treatment. I was nicely dressed, I was no more obviously a tourist than the four Japanese people, so all I could think was I was loathsome in some unkown way (up until then, I'd been having a fine time, no problems) and slunk away, abashed and ashamed. Fortunately, I found a little restaurant not too far away, where I was the *only* American in a roomful of French businessmen and women...and was treated wonderfully. A few years older and wiser, I now wouldn't feel that way, but back then... <BR> <BR>With my sister on her first trip to Europe, we were on an evening train from Paris to Perigeux, in a cabin that sat six. Two young men came in, and started talking to us. They were from somewhere down in the south of France, and their accent was hard for me to understand, their English negligible. There were hardly any other people in the car, and I got the distinct feeling they were looking for a good time with the two American girls. They asked if they could have one of our American cigarettes, and offered us two of theirs. In pig latin (thankyou3stooges) I told my sister not to smoke it, and I thanked them and told them we'd smoke them later. When we got off the train (a stop, not the terminus of the train), THEY got off with us. It's nighttime, there's nobody in sight...they offer to carry our bags across the tracks. Heart pounding, pig latining warnings to my sister, we make it into the depot. The boys finally left, looking terribly disappointed. They may have had no felonious intentions, but my not understanding most of what they said put me at a distinct disadvantage, and feeling intimidated. <BR> <BR>Then there was the 'guide' in Tetouan (Morocco) that inferred he'd leave us lost in the medina if we didn't go with him into an 'antique' store...

alan

Last fall we were in the Czech Republic and stayed in a city called Beroun, so that we might visit some of the sights in the area. as my wife was driving the car back to the hotel we turned off to a small street parallel to the main street we were on. As we reached the end Two Police Officers, one holding a Stop sign stopped and and in Czech apparently told us we had broken some law. My wife was about to argue with him and I reminded her it was probably cheaper to pay a fine than to bail her out. She asked him about the fine and he managed to say in English that we could choose to pay from 1000 to 4000 krns. I offered him a 1000 and he took it readily. It was about 35 USD and a lot less embarrasing than the possible alternative.

Donna

Wes, I'm so surprised! Must have been an early excursion for you. Nowadays, one can print a beautiful metro map at www.ratp.fr to fold and carry in your pocket. And, you learn right away to plan your route before descending into the station. You are so correct about the pre-planning. Thanks to the enormous resources (including this Forum) on the web, our second trip (with the web) was problem free. We were lucky, too - no strikes! Most of all, one is well advised to learn essential word/phrases of the languages in the countries one visits. Knowing what "sortie", "escalier", "tirez", and other basic words mean is a HUGE advantage...

jim

I have not been on a trip to a foreign country where I do not meet up with someone who would like to bully me the minute he realizes I am a foreigner. I am presently working overseas and the same thing happens. No difference. <BR> <BR>How do I cope? <BR> <BR>I treat it as a learning experience. When I return to my native country I go out of my way to dampen my bullying/superiority complex and be nice and considerate, speak slowly, and listen. <BR> <BR>When it actually happens to me in the country I grin and bear it and say to me myself how lucky I am to be given the oppurtunity to travel when others are not as fortunate.

Jaime

On my first trip abroad, I went to Scotland for a while, but arranged to have a 2 day stay in Amsterdam en-route. I focused on planning for Scotland and was woefully unprepared when I arrived in Amsterdam around 7 p.m. I had the name and address of a youth hostel, some guilders, and nothing else. I figured that I'd just take the train into the city from the airport, but when looking for the "#2", I discovered that some trains had "#1" on the top half and "#2" on the bottom! Meanwhile, it's getting darker and darker. I finally chose a train and headed into Amsterdam. The electronic sign that told us of the stops did NOT give an english translation and I had to continually ask, "Central Station? Central Station?" I did not speak a WORD of dutch - not hello, goodbye, nothing. I got to Central Station - it's pitch black outside - and I have to find my hostel, which was on a street named something like "Veermekrenhausenvlaken" (and, incidently, most of the streets seemed to have this same exact name!). I got lost and wandered around the Red Light District (being followed by the stereotypical man in a black trench coat) before somehow stumbling into my hostel. It was an incredibly intimidating and disorienting experience, but a little rest and a good old American hamburger (although, admittedly, it tasted extremely strange) fixed me up nicely.

rand

Well there was the time in 74 in Ethiopia flying between towns when the DC3 with no rear door touched down at an 'airstrip' with no buildings within sight. A soldier climbed in and ordered me out. An argument persued with him pointing his machine gun at me and waving to the door while yelling the same words at me in a language for which there is no phrase book. I was replying that I would not go in English and indicating that I was with my parents and would not seperate. Calling the bluff of an angry man with a machine gun and winning left me shaken And stirred but also slightly euphoric at having survived. This of course was a week after I beat up the guy who tried to mug me for my wallet in Addis Abbaba. Hey I was 16 at the time, played rugby and water polo and felt invincible.

karen

I posted this as part of a trip report last year but it's perfect for re-posting to Wes' topic! In Bayeux (inside the city's ring road) while returning to our B&B after dinner (one of the four of us said, "Let's drive by the cathedral one last time!"), we noticed police motioning to cars ahead. Are we being detoured? Is there an accident ahead? Are they looking for someone? All these things passed through our minds as we were pulled over. A policeman handed a strange device to my husband, (the driver) who looked at it quizzically. The policeman gestured to blow into it. At that, the four of us realized we'd come upon a roadblock looking for inebriated drivers. My husband had truly drunk one glass of wine and one sip (to sample) of <BR>someone else's Calvados. The gendarme took a long time to study the results of the test, asked us if he had had any alcohol (I had enough French to explain "seulement un verre avec le diner"), proceeded to study the rental car's stickers on the windshield by flashlight and take a long, careful look at each of us before finally deciding to wave us along. I think we were very lucky. (My husband says all he could think about was the Napoleonic code, where one's guilt is assumed first!) Our B&B hosts (by the way, they were the Chilcotts) said they'd never been stopped at such a roadblock. To this day, the phrase, "Let's NOT drive by the cathedral" is a common after-dinner sentiment when we're out together!

Judy

Hi all, I did not know whether to laugh or cry, but it was very enlightening! Adrienne: that was so spooky! What would you have done? Your mother???? Elvira: A schlub??? I love it! Pig latining, you are something else...What an incredibly interesting group of people you are! John, pre-Ayatollah Iran???Now I really feel like a "schlub".

Joanna

My intimidating experiences have all been in the Middle East. A man pretending to not own a perfume shop in Khan El Khalili (Cairo bazaar), but who had his photos all over the wall, scared my two friends and I - we had to run out of the shop when he started getting angry at us. We didn't want to buy his perfume, mainly because of some of the ingredients being from endangered species, but also because he'd lied to us for no apparent reason. We luckily found our way out of Khan el Kalili easily, despite being led to his shop through lots of little side alleys and curtain things. Outside the Cairo Museum men came up to us and said it was only open that day for tour groups and we should come to his shop for a drink. My friends started following him until I called them back. It was my second trip to Cairo and I knew that he wasn't telling the truth. Sure enough we walked straight into the museum after that. <BR>In Jerusalem I saw a lovely old stone building lit up at night and started to photograph it, only to be surrounded by armed men - yikes, it was the American Embassy! We went down into the Kidron Valley to see the tombs, but were intimidated out of the area by unfriendly locals. We were sure a stoning was coming!!

s

I was teaching English in Korea (1970s) on a tourist 90-day visa (don't tell!). When my visa ran out, I took the ferry from Pusan, Korea, to Shimonoseki, Japan for a weekend visit, intending to start a new 90-day period when I set foot in Korea again. To my surprise, I had only a ONE-TIME visa for Korea. *There I was* no money, no visa, no entry. The ferry captain came by and said I could ride back to Shimonoseki for free and get a new visa from the Korean consulate there. That night, enroute to Japan, the captain politely invited me to visit his cabin; I politely refused; he politely invited me to find the money to pay the fare. Lucky for me, there was an American Peace Corps volunteer on the ferry who loaned me $20. That $20 paid the round-trip ferry fare to Shimonoseki, the visa fee at the consulate, and left me enough extra cash for two or three meals of curry rice. To this day I can't stand curry rice. I arrived back in Seoul two days late and several decades wiser. <BR> <BR>s

jwagner

Venice, last March. We had taken an early morning train from Florence and when we arrived at the station, I decided to head out to find a USA Today to see how Iowa State had fared in the NCAA tourney. I handed the woman at the kiosk a lire which she examined carefully and then waved to a policeman. He grabbed the bill and then led me to a bank where he called over the manager. They looked over the bill again and told me it was counterfeit. "Where did you get it?" the policeman asked. <BR>"I've been printing them up on the train because a 1000 lire note is so darn valuable that I want to paper Italy with them," is what I thought. (I still can't for the life of me comprehend who would waste their time making phony lire. They might as well be printing Monopoly money.) <BR>I spent 45 minutes filling out papers, showing my passport, sharing my itinerary, describing my travel party, etc. I was baffled, a little worried, and a lot intrigued by the whole situation. I just soaked it in and survived. <BR> <BR>

Sjoerd

To "jwagner": <BR>You wrote: "I still can't for the life of me comprehend who would waste their time making phony lire. They might as well be printing Monopoly money." <BR>Think about what you wrote. Hope you regret it. Italian money is as valuable as all other monies. You must be one of the (fortunately few) American tourists who think everything is better, richer, bigger at home.

jwagner

I plead guilty. I should add the phrase "in 1000 lire denominations." Thanks for responding with a nice generalization of me.