Sheila

<BR>My most recent surreal moment was driving early ( 8am) along the side of Lochmaree in Wester Ross, Scotland on a pink glowing summer morning towards abeckoning mountain, wne we passed a man (nekkid but for his keks) with muddy patches on his buttocks as tho' he had sat down in the mud. He was walking south as though it was the most normal think in the world. <BR> <BR>My companion and I looked and said nothing.....

RosemaryM

My husband and I were in Yorkshire in 1992 and stopped to explore Helmsley Castle on the way to beautiful Reivaulx Abbey. Inside the ruinous 12th century walls of the castle is a very well preserved Elizabethan manor house. Inside the panelled great hall there was a large built in cupboard, in the middle of which was a tiny door. My husband can never resist these things so he opened the door. Inside was a plastic spray bottle hand labelled "Ye Olde Windowe Cleanere". It completely broke us up in that ancient hall with sun streaming through the nicely cleaned windows. I can never think of Helmsley without a smile. <BR>This anecdote was published in the BTA magazine "In Britain" as a letter last year.

Adam

This moment was divided between two continents! Many years ago I was driving with an animal loving woman friend - Joanna - in Brussels during rush hour when we espied an injured cat in a very busy road tunnel. Slightly against my better judgement, I agreed to stop in the tunnel and rescue the cat which we took to a vet who sadly put it down - end of story. <BR> <BR>Several years later Joanna had moved to South Africa and I was working in Mozambique. We arranged to meet in Johannesburg and decided to make an overnight trip to Swaziland. Driving through the highlands of that beautiful country we came across a very picturesque lake and stopped for a moment to take in the view. Then Joanna pointed out a dark grey shape lying prone at the side of the lake. A marginally closer inspection revealed that it was an adult hippopotomous. Joanna was convinced that it was injured and insisted that I go and check if it was breathing! My sanity obviously in suspense I advanced a few steps when a sudden flash of déjà vu reminded me of the reality of the situation - was history repeating itself? - would I plonk this injured creature in my car and head for the nearest veterinary clinic? At that moment the hippo lumbered to its feet and I, without giving further thought to the zen qualities of the moment carried out a superbly executed imitation of an olympic sprinter closely followed by an engine surge which would have done any formula 1 driver proud. <BR> <BR>I have no information on the fate of the hippo.

Nora

This is a great thread--I just discovered it looking for something else. Adam, yours had me laughing out loud -- the best, by far! Sheila, please clue in some of your Yank friends by telling me what "keks" are. <BR> <BR>My moment -- waking up in Venice just after sunrise, with shimmering rainbow light on the ceiling reflected from the water up through colored glass windows; overwhelming fragrance of baking bread; and sound of church bells and slapping waves. Memory keeps me sane in some moments of every-day lunacy.

Janice

Also in Venice, on New Year's Eve day, early in the morning on the boat from the main part of Venice to Lido. The man sitting in front of us seemed a little bit...odd, kind of disoriented, maybe like a homeless person would be here in Chicago. And he was eating something that smelled pretty hideous, and he kept kind of tugging on it like it was tough or sinewy. But I guess we were just happy that he had some food, and was behaving pretty calmly - until we stood up to get off the boat and got a good look at his breakfast: RAW CHICKEN!!! No kidding - the tough parts that he was yanking on were tendons in the chicken. We didn't eat the rest of the day. How did he avoid getting sick?

Phantom Topper

Worth few more tales!

Karen

Thank you, Cass, for starting this thread and allowing all of us to share these wonderful memories. You can do what you want with mine! Indulge me, I have one more: This time in Rome, driving along the Via dei Fori Imperiali, in an ancient and battered Fiat 850, which stopped running in the middle of traffic! I managed to pull over and then got out, with I'm not sure what plan in mind, when a young Italian soldier walked over to ask what was wrong. He told me he was a mechanic, looked at the engine, determined that something fairly simple was wrong with it, and proceeded to step out into traffic, stopping several cars until he found one that had some tools! He then used the borrowed tools to fix my engine on the spot, sent the other driver on his way, and told me that I would now have to take him somewhere to wash his hands (which were, of course, covered with grease). Not sure whether I was dealing with a madman, but also feeling I owed this rescuer some courtesy, I drove him to a friends house, where I knew there would be several other people at home. My soldier washed his hands, said goodbye, and went on his way, no doubt off to rescue other ladies in distress!

carolyn

Six of us--four 25-year-old girls (one of whom was my daughter), a 65-ish woman, and I--were walking back one night to our hotel from a coffee shop on the lake in Lucerne. I was at the back of the crowd when a man came up behind us fairly closely. I kept moving over thinking he wanted to pass us, when I got one of those "Mo-om" routines from my daughter. Sure enough, the young women were aware that the man was exposing himself, but the older lady and I were clueless.

topper tom

These stories are great! Any new ones?

Ed

Rome, New Year's Eve 1992. During nearly a month of Eurail travelling through a dozen countries that included many nights on overnight trains, we heard countless tales of fellow backpacking travelers who had things (including backpacks) stolen on the trip. Every night I would wake up and look at my bag, relieved it was still there. It was our first time in Europe, and we were protective of our things and had had no bad experiences. <BR> <BR>In Rome, we wanted to find the Times Square, the central place where masses of people would be gathered. Noone could tell us where that place was, and we gave up the search and ended up at the Trevi Fountain, drinking cheap wine from the bottle and celebrating with a crowd of mostly tourists. Very drunk and still carrying one of the bottles, we ambled out to find a taxi to take us back to our hotel. I put the bottle down to flag down a taxi and turned around to find a hobo wandering off with our half-full wine bottle. We got in the taxi, as he needed the wine more than we did. And that bottle was the only thing we lost on the month-long expedition.

Byrd

Everybody has a Gypsy story, and this is ours--Rome 1997--My husband and I left our hotel and happily strolled toward the metro station. We saw the Gypsy kids approaching, but they were real pros, and before we knew it, two of them grabbed John's arms and another, before my horrified eyes, scooted around to check his back pocket. (Being faithful Fodorites, of course we had all valuables in a money belt!)There was much yelling and swinging of arms, and the kids quickly backed off with arms raised, smiling and saying what must have been the Gypsy equivalent of "OK, you win!" As we continued our walk down the street, we realized they were casually strolling along with us! At the corner, they went left and we went right- still in possession of our money, if not our nerves! <BR>

Jeanette

It was in Berlin 1983 when Germany was still divided. My cousin and I had left our group who were all freaked out from the long day of being checked in and having our passports taken and not returned for a few hours while blue eyes followed us everywhere (carrying what looked like machine guns to me.) We were both in our 30's then, and I wanted desparately to call home as I had left my 3 year old for the first time and hadn't talked to him for almost a week. <BR>We had both kinds of money (EAST AND WEST);found some phones and couldn't stay connected as you couldn't get the coins in fast enough (because of inflationary etc. problems). We finally figured out how to do it (me dialing/talking while her throwing coins in as fast as she could) and by the time we were finished we had an audience of about 10 people watching us. They <BR>clapped at the end and one young boy came up to me (he was about 18) and asked if he could listen to me speak English as he had lived in the United States and hadn't heard it for awhile. <BR>We walked with his group in the underground and to the mall. At that time Berlin seemed almost all college kids and schools- with beautiful new buildings and expressways. Later that night we could not remember the name of our hotel as we had only been there a few minutes- and all we could tell the taxi driver was where it was in relationship to the WALL. (He did know a little English, thank God!) We found it and my cousin never went anywhere with me again. The entire night was strange and I also remember all the subway exits etc. being divided and barred with guards etc. etc. Searched our bus out top and bottom as we left. But it was a wonderful visit and the WELCOME people gave us everywhere was never forgotten.

Paule

In 1974, I was travelling from Ireland to Scotland with a friend. Instead of taking the 6-hour ferry from Dublin to Liverpool, he thought it would be better to go from Belfast to Ayr, Scotland. He certainly was right-- it was quicker, but it meant travelling in and out of Belfast. Something that I wasn't all that thrilled to do. But he reassured me and said, "Don't worry, nothing every happens in train stations." This is, after all, during a very bad time in Northern Ireland. <BR> <BR>We arrive in Belfast (2 20-something backpacking Americans) and, fortunately, were waved through customs without much difficulty. We enter the main room of the train station, and I notice that many of the skylights are broken. Then I notice a sign: "Toilet facilities temporarily out of order due to bomb damage." I look at my friend, who shrugs his shoulders and says, " So I lied..." <BR> <BR>We leave the train station, and I notice that all the shops outside the train station have their windows boarded up; signs in the windows say "Bomb Sale". I realize that even my NYC smarts has not prepared me for life in Belfast and the matter-of-factness of living with this kind of violence. <BR> <BR>We walk down the street, and there are a couple of British soldiers standing on the street, holding very serious-looking guns. My friend tells me to ask directions to the ferry to Scotland. So, I, a petite female with a backpack, walk up to the soldier to get the information. He looked down at me, and I know that he was more than a little amused. It turned out that we needed to take a bus to the other side of Belfast to get to the ferry slip. And so we walk into the center of town to get to the bus stop. I notice that there is barbed wire everywhere. Signs in the street are posted saying not to park because of bombs that have been found in the area. <BR> <BR>We get to the bus stop and finally, finally the bus arrives. I can't wait to leave by now! It's a typical double-decker bus, and my friend and I walk to the back of the lower level; it's quite crowded, too. At last, we are leaving-- but before we're out of the city, 2 policemen stop the bus. One goes upstairs while the other walks toward the back of the bus, poking around the seats. Suddenly, he stops (and my heart does, too)-- he looks around at all of us, and says,"Well, I don't really want to bother you, so, DOES ANYONE HERE HAVE A BOMB???" <BR> <BR>The passengers all break up laughing, while I sit there wondering about life here and hoping that I get out before I have anymore "exciting" experiences!

Hooty

My friend and I were in Rome (2 females) and passed a group of young policemen with big guns. As we walked past, these official looking guys all yelled "Hey Baby" and started making kissy faces at us. That was pretty bizarre!!

Cass

Hey, I'm back and delighted to read all these postings -- they're all great! <BR> <BR>Here's another, from 1972 when it was still Tito's Yugoslavia and crossing the border from Greece meant that all these ferocious-looking soldiers with red stars on their caps boarded the train and disappeared with passports until hours and hours later. When we arrived at the Belgrade station, I hadn't slept well worrying about whether we'd have trouble as young Americans, and I hadn't been able to use the toilet since it clogged at about 2 am (and I was too afraid to go to another car without my passport). I assumed I could use the station's restrooms, but those getting off the trains were herded directly out to the street, without going into the station. <BR> <BR>I was now pretty desperate but it was very early in the morning and none of the cafes around the station appeared to be open. All there was, was a hotel across the plaza, and I thought there would probably be a bathroom common to the bedrooms on the second floor. But coward that I was, even "en presse," I sent my husband over to do the requisite reconnaisance. <BR> <BR>About 2 minutes after he disappeared into the front door, a police car with screaming "beee-booo-beeee-booo" siren and flashing lights came careening down the street and pulled up onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel door. The 3 policemen ran into the hotel and I expected them to re-emerge dragging my husband behind them. <BR> <BR>But no, a minute or two later, they reemerged each holding the latest Beatles album in hand, smiling and laughing; and they got back into the police car and drove off. <BR>

Ann

Really more human nature stories than anything else from I lived in Belfast... <BR> <BR>One day after work it was raining buckets (surprise), and I wasn't feeling well, so decided to take a taxi instead of walking home. Went inside the taxi stand next to a supermarket, and told the guy behind the counter where I was going. His reply? "It'll be about 5 minutes, love, until I finish my chocolate eclair and tea." Sure enough, I went outside and 10 minutes later, I had my ride home. <BR> <BR>A few weeks later, on St. Patrick's Day (day off from work!), I was taking a walk on a path along the Langan River that runs through some nice countryside, although you're still basically in Belfast. Lovely day--it was even sunny! About 10 a.m., two men in their early 20s walk by me. It wasn't until they stopped to ask me the time that I realized they were both carrying rifles, and each also had a plastic bag full of bottles of Miller beer. Don't really want to know what they evenutally got up to.

hooty

Speaking of guns...we were in Athens on our way down from Lykovitos(sp?) last Feb. No one else was around. We passed a twenty something guy in regular clothes carrying a Rambo gun and walking quickly up the hill. He didn't look like a cop to us and we were just glad he ignored us and kept walking!

Ed

Here's one more. This was in 1995, early morning in a cheap hotel near the Puerta del Sol, Madrid. I was half awake, and heard a loud bang. I was listening to my walkman a few minutes later and sure enough there was breaking news of a terrorist bomb, set off by ETA a few streets away. That was a very surreal feeling. The attack damaged some storefronts including FNAC and killed a police officer.

Art

You all have had some interesting experiences and most of mine were positive but the most powerful experience that I had was in East Berlin in 1965. Some friends and I walked over to East Berlin for the day (we had to wear our military uniforms) and visited some of the museums where we saw things like lampshades made out of human skin and soap made from human fat but the worst was when we stopped in a pub for lunch. When I went into the mens room 3 young Germans came in behind me and asked if I could help them to get out of East Germany. The fact that they were prisoners and had no freedom to go where they wanted made an impression on me that I’ve never forgotten. I was so upset that I mouthed off to the East German police at checkpoint charlie and almost got my self shot.

julie

Driving down a very muddy road in Kenya...starts to Pour, not just rain, and road turns to slick muck. sliding along in our range rover, and trying as best we can to stay on the road. Out of the bush steps two masi warriors in full dress, long hair plastered in elegant designs with red mud. They just ignore us, and one slips his hand into his bag, hidden under the sling they wear similar to a dress, and pulls out a tiny rain hat, the kind old ladies keep in their purses for emergencies, (fold into a tiny packet) and he pops it open and covers his hair as he continues to stroll along side the road.