Only 39 replies? People, we can do better! Come on, fess up!

I was eating lunch in an expensive restaurant in Paris (can't remember the name of it, but it's supposedly the oldest house in Paris) and I ordered prawns, and they came with the shell still on them. Now, I had been told that it was very rude to eat with your hands in France, so I was trying my very best to eat these prawns with my knife and fork (if you've never tried it - Don't - it's not a walk in the park) and as I was clumsily trying to pry the prawn out it's shell, I somehow managed to fling a large chunk off my plate and into the middle of the floor. I'm not kidding - this thing flew high! I discreetly picked it up before a waiter stepped on it or something, and had a good laugh with those at my table.
Only later did I find out that shellfish is an exception....

OK. How about the time I arrived at CDG and had to wait 3 hours to catch a train to Angers?

In my "this is the beginning of my 8 week trip through Europe" excitement and jetlag fog I managed to lock the key to my suitcase into my suitcase.

I found the welcome desk for the airport. In hushed tones I explained to the kind lady what I had foolishly done. She called maintenance then said I should wait off to the side.

I was standing there thinking it wasn't too embarrassing yet. That's when I spotted the maintenance man across the terminal walking my way. How did I know it was the maintenance man that far away? He had a pair of 4 foot long, bright red bolt cutters with him.

I felt everyone was watching him as he approached the welcome desk, had the lady point and then walk over to me. It really wasn't much of a lock. He used the small set of sidecut pliers he had to break it rather than the huge bolt cutters.

I said my thank you's then slid out of there as fast as I could.

When Marcy and I were on the plane back home from Paris a few days ago, I said to the nun in front of me, "Excusez moi, mon soeur." as she was blocking the aisle. (She took up a lot of space in her old-fashioned flowing habit, complete with whipple.)

Marcy got to our seats after me, nearly convulsed with laughter. "Did you say 'mon' to that nun? That's masculine!"

Oops. Luckily "Mr. Sister" didn't come after me with a ruler to correct my glaring grammar error.

What a great thread! I have never seen this one before!

My most embarresing moment was in Venice. We had been in Italy for two weeks or so. Guess I sort of overdid the eating part.

So in Venice we went back to Harry's Bar for a drink. Enrico remembered my husband and just assume we are going to have dinner. We had not planned to but did not have the heart to tell him that.

So we get a great table on the main level and we ordered lightly. But Enrico is sending over extra dishes. I had on a very elegant linen suit that was so tight around the waist (due to the pounds I had put on after arriving in Italy) I could hardly breath.

I went to take a sip of my wine and the button on my skirt waistband popped off. It not only popped off but it went "clink, clink, clink" and rolled across the room. I looked at it in horror!

A waiter quickly grabbed a silver tray, ran over and picked up the button and put it on the tray and then strolled across the room and presented me with my button. As the entire room watched!

Mortification does not even begin to describe how I felt, LOL.

I said something stupid like "mille grazie" and popped the button in the purse. And prayered the skirt would not fall off when we left the restaurant. It didn't, in fact could hardly get the skirt off when we returned to our hotel. ((*))

We were in Monterosso, Italy, and we went inside an olive oil shop. The owner was up on a ladder, arranging VERY TALL olive oil bottles on a shelf FULL of very tall olive oil bottles.

We stood there watching for a second, when he bumped one of the bottles and it started to waiver. OH GOD....it wasn't going to happen! IT DID! The domino effect, right before our very eyes, and tons of the bottles went crashing onto the hard tile floor. Olive oil slick all over.

We all stayed put, except for me. Don't ask me where my brain was, but I picked up my 5 year old daughter, and decided to leap the puddle. IN FLIP FLOPS. I landed right in the oil, slipped, recovered, slipped again. I looked like I was a baby deer on ice. With a child on hip.

Everyone gawked at me like "what did you THINK would happen?!"

I played it cool, and tried to hide my limp. I confessed to hubby when we got back to the room that I threw my back out....

Oh yeah...and I got preggo that day! ;)

I have a story a lot like Grandmere's, above, using up my only ticket getting my luggage through the exit turnstile of the RER. My "incident" was very early in the AM, at Luxembourg, and I was traveling alone. My solution was that I -- a 50+ "sophisticated" woman in a long black cashmere coat-- shoved the luggage the rest of the way through and climbed over the turnstile. Pretending to be invisible, of course. Everyone else seemed to pretend I was invisible too.

A few years ago I spied a purse in a market in the Dordogne that had a rotating lock on it - the kind where you select a 4-digit "password" and set the lock to that number, and then have to rotate each digit back to that number in order to get into it. I immediately thought of Fodor's and all the posts about people getting pickpocketed and robbed on vacation in Europe. THIS'll be the answer to THOSE problems I thought as I handed over my euros to the purse stall vendor - just wait until I get back home and post about my fabulous discovery!

I carried the purse with me for the rest of my time in the Dordogne and fell in love with it. Not only was it totally secure, it was a nice souvenir - one of those stiff, black leather, boxy types of things that French men carry their business papers in.

Back in Paris the next week, I am at the Rivoli métro stop. My sister was planning to take a group of people on a tour later that month and had asked me to purchase 10 carnets and 10 museum passes to save her time. The lady at the window at the station gives me an odd look when I ask for 10 of each and says "vous avez dit DIX?" I say yes, and she begins to count them out. I, meanwhile, put my purse up on the counter and begin to rotate the digits to my code. "Hmmm...très utile," says the woman, eyeing my purse. I agree, and we begin to chat about theft in the métro and petty crime and so forth. But my purse isn't opening.

I reset the code several times while the lady begins to eye me strangely again. Then she asks me if I know the combination. Yes, of course I do. I keep trying over and over but the purse is not opening. A line has formed in back of me, a line full of people speculating on what the heck the lady wrestling with the purse is doing. The lady at the window tells me to step aside and calls for a station maintenance guy to see if he can help me. He disappears into a closet and comes out with a toolkit. Now everyone in line is having a fabulous time watching the maintenance guy attack my purse with pliers and wrenches.

Nothing will open the purse. I'm leaving for the USA the next morning, and all my valuables are in that purse. The maintenance guy says he can saw the top off for me (voluble laughter from people in line), but suggests I first take it to a luggage store.

So I bid adieu to my friends at the station and go up to the rue de Rivoli. Down the block is a store selling purses and luggage, and in I go to throw myself on their mercy. The first lady I talk to listens to my story and immediately asks if I bought the purse at her store. When I say no, she abruptly says she can't help me and walks off. An assistant motions for me to come over and asks if I have tried all the possible combinations. I tell her I'm no mathematician but I think that might take a very long time. She offers to help, takes the purse, and after trying the combination I tell her is the right one, begins to try variations on it. She works on this for a VERY long time, and I'm feeling guilty because I could have done the same thing. But she says there is a trick to it and she's done it before. In about a half-hour's time, she's got it! I feel compelled to buy a purse from the store to show my gratitude - one WITHOUT a lock.

Fantastic, funny stories! ((*))

I'm proud to say I've NEVER had an embarrassing moment in Europe.

Slipping on that pile of dog poop on the marble sidewalk in Montpelier and sliding until I came to rest actually sitting on the pile and having to walk back to my hotel to change wasn't the least bit embarrassing.

Looking up while walking along the harbor seawall in Rhodes where there were fisherman, and falling into the water and being fished out by them wasn't embarrassing either.

Standing at the train station in Switzerland trying louder and louder in broken German to find out which platform to go to while the guy nodded his head until finally saying in perfect English, "I know what you're asking, I just don't know which one" wasn't the least bit embarrassing. He turned out to be an ex pat from Texas.

Sitting at a pretty restaurant in Sirmione by the water, my partner wasn't the least bit embarrassed when a bird flew over and dropped right onto his menu, splatting all over our table. The waiters cleaned it all up, only for another bird to come by and dump all over my partner's head. It was running down the side of his face. But I don't think that would be embarrassing to anyone.

And why would I have been embarrassed when the Paris taxi driver couldn't make sense of the written address I had given him and I kept insisting that it was correct. How was I to know I had given him the Rome address instead?

Nope, glad I've never been embarrassed in Europe.

Good grief Patrick, LOL, they remember you two all over Europe I am sure!

Great stories, and would imagine a lot of high clothe cleaning bills?

BTW, aren't you glad the Paris taxi driver didn't drive you to the address in Rome? ((*))

Many years ago a girlfirend and I thought we would try some sake - had heard about it and gotten good reviews so thought - 'what the heck?'

Ordered it, waiter brought it to the table: large steaming tea kettle type vessel. We poured it in the little sake cups, toasted to new experiences and drank.

Hmmm... tasted like hot water. Okay, we thought this is something new that takes some getting used to. Had another. Still tasted like hot water. Looked at each and said 'well, nothing special but now we've had sake'.

Waiter comes over and askes how our sake is - we honestly say that well, not what we expected, tastes like hot water. He lifts the lid on the tea kettle to expose a carafe filled with the sake sitting in hot water. Seems that the kettle full of hot water was just to keep the sake hot and we had been drinking the hot water, not the sake. He looked at us with a 'how do you find your way home at night' look.

We then drank the 'real' sake, loved it, had two more carafes and then truly couldn't find our way home that night....

Live and learn, eh?????

Great Stories!

I was studying in Florence in 99 and I had only been there about a week. I had a week of Italian lessons under my belt, so I knew just enough to get me into trouble. It was the weekend and I was going out of town, and I was at the train station. A very nice couple came up to me and started speaking to me in rapid Italian. Of course, I didn't understand a word, so I said "Non parli Italiano". They looked at me odd and continued speaking. This went on for a few minutes with them talking and me saying "Non parli Italiano" before they gave up and walked away. Only after they left did I realize that instead of saying "I don't speak Italian" I was telling them "You don't speak Italian". I was so embarrassed and felt horrible!

Many years ago, in the early 1070's, I was working for an environmental engineering firm, ih their Madrid Office. I started to go to a friendly, nearby, Basque bar/restaurnt to eat the lovely seafood and to practice my rudimentary Spanish.

I noticed one dish they often served at the bar; a wonderful skewer of alternating bacon and huge shrimp that had been grilled over an open fire. It seemed to be partivularly popular with young lovers, one of whom would hold the skewer while the other slid a prawn off with his or her teeth. Something right out of Tom Jones. Looked delicious!

Anyway, I kept listening for the name of the dish and, when I was confident, called the bartender over and said in my best Spanish, "I'll would like two ******s, Por Favor."

His head snapped up, startled, and he said, "You want WHAT?" I had mis-heard the word for the dish, and had used a very rude word, similar in meaning to the equally rude word, "Fanny", in England. The word used in the States to describe this particular part of the female anatomy begins with and "P" and ends with a "Y".

"I would like two ******s", I repeated in my bravest manner.

He turned to the crowded bar, and loudly announced, "This guy just ordered two *****s!" That got everyone's instant attention. He turned back to me and asked, "Did you want to eat those here?"

A bit confused and still innocent, I stoutly replied, "Si, Como no?" (Sure, why not?")

That brought down the house!

The guy on the next stool, who spoke English, quickly explained the reason for the hilarity, and I was an instant friend of the restaurant. I could not buy a drink all night, and my order of ******s was on the house as well. Luckily, I toughed it out and ate every one of my shrimp, despite the good natured shickers of the patrons.

Every time I came into the bar after that, I was greeted with a shout. Not like on Cheers, however, but with a rousing, "Here comes our "****** eater!"

These are great, but Patrick, =D> yours takes the cake (for me anyway.) Your brevity, style and building to crescendo are just perfection. Bravo =D>

Speaking of cake, I must admit Grandmere's first story is a mystery to me too. Isn't foret noir black forest? Wasn't it a black forest cake which is exactly what you thought, a dark caked baked in an oven?

LoveItaly, I have been there with the buttons more times than I care to a

Ooops. That great sake story reminds me of another time we "weren't" embarrassed.
In Tokyo we hunted up a restaurant we read about. We finally found the building, but realized that it was several floors of restaurants. We went into a rather nondescript door and found what was sort of like a fire escape stairwell. We went up until we came to a door that had the name of the restaurant in English under the Japanese sign. We opened the door and walked in. We saw that we were on the wrong side of the room, so walked all the way across the room, with groups of diners sitting in their "pits". When we got to the main entrance we realized we had come up the back way and they had us remove our shoes and put them in lockers. That's when we realized that we had just walked in our shoes all the way across everybody's "tables". But why would that embarrass us?

Just thought of another (there are many- my memory just tends to selectively eliminate the MOST embarassing...)

Going through Rome airport, security checkpoint. Seems pretty laid back, no-big-deal checks. UNTIL... Security official informs us that our bags may be opened and checked past this point.

In my delirious and sleep deprived state I off-handedly comment, 'Well, I hope whoever checks this bag opens it slowly because it's going to EXPLODE'.

Needless to say my feeble attempts to explain that there was not a potential threat just that a bag overpacked and FORCED to close is an accident waiting to happen and that opening it could be a treacherous undertaking fell on deaf ears.

Next on my list of Italian phrases to learn:
"No explosives in this bag, I promise!"

also:

" Nice badge, love the whole 'official' look. Will I ever see my children again?"

Upon our arrival in the Brussels train station at the start of our first trip to Europe 25 years ago I felt a need for the WC.

Outside the men's was a very elderly woman at a card table tending the dish of coins. I was aware that I should drop a little change for the use of the toilet, but I thought it would be okay to pay after I was finished.

Wrongo.

In the middle of my "relief" I sensed a "presence". I turned to see, to my horror and chagrin, this five-foot grandmother standing at my elbow with her hand out in an obvious gesture of, "Pay up."

I felt very...uncomfortable.

In Paris I was going to dine in a swanky intimate restaurant with a boyfriend. I had just purchased that afternoon a snug fitting cashmere sweater with the cutest little pearl buttons, so I wore it to the romantic evening dinner.

I wore a light wool jacket over the sweater and as I swept through the door anticipating romance, the maitre'd helped me with removing my jacket.....and the little snug sweater too! The lovely little pearl buttons had opened under my jacket and they both were down to my wrists when I and the maitre'd noticed!

You know how they keep their cool? Well, he was the coolest and all he said was "Madame?" like it was a perfectly normal happening. He held up my jacket while I slipped my arms back in and rebuttoned and then nodded approvingly and showed me to the table.

Some of the diners saw what had happened, but they were French so they just politely nodded too.

I was glad that I had also purchased lovely new underthings that afternoon, but I hadn't anticipated showing them off in the restaurant.

Oh SeaUrchin, much more embarrasing then my button rolling across the restaurant floor. Remember what our mothers told us about underwear being clean in case we were taken to the hospital in an emergency??? They never warned us about restaurants! Too funny ((*))

Oh, this is such fun. I've never read anything on this site that made me SNORT I was laughing so hard!

I'll have to think of a good embarassing story to share. Thanks for the needed giggles!

Okay, I am a "newbie" here but I will share anyway.
We were visiting our son in Rome over Christmas. He is in a study abroad program. This was my first time to visit Europe. I was so excited!!

I researched and studied everything I could before our trip. I felt in was prudent (not to mention polite) to learn a "little Italian" before we left.....So, study I did!

Quick Backround: When I was in school, many years ago, I studied Spanish. When we have traveled to Mexico, I can get by..a little

Anyway, upon our arrival in Italy, I immediately began testing out my NEW, limited Italian. After two days, (and ignoring my family rolling their eyes), I was feeling very good about myself.

I could never understand the Italian response to my Italian spoken (?)question, but that was ok. I would smile and they would smile and I felt great!!...Little did I know, they weren't just smiling, they were probably laughing!!

My son finally said to me.."MOM, just speak English, You are speaking Italian with a Spanish accent"

Needless to say, I was heartbroken!! BUT, just briefly! After dinner and some great Chianti, I was laughing along with the rest of family!!

Lesson learned: No more phrase books for me, I will use the audio lessons!!

Yep, I still plan to learn!

A nun wears a wimple. perhaps you were referring to Mr. Whipple?

Kellee - your post reminds me of my hubby's wonderful gift of speaking any language.

Well, let me clarify that. His gift of conversing with the locals is to speak english with the local accent - I guess that makes it easier for them to understand?

In Italy, he speaks english with an Italiano accento. In Mexico he speaks english with el spanisho accenta. In Japan - well let's not get into his Japanese... hehe

Somehow it works for him though - guess that's just the charmer in him - he's always the guy with everyone gathered around his table buying him drinks, slapping him on the back and inviting him back to their childs confirmation.... go fig!

I am in Banff with my family and I am so excited about going skiing in the Canadian rockies. I am juiced up and I cannot wait till morning to go skiing. Its my family's first ski trip out west and we are staying in the Banff Springs hotel. A magnificent hotel. I wake up early and figure I am going to go to the gym first. I am very quiet in the room so I do not wake up the kids and look at my watch and it says 5:30AM. This is great because I will work out for about 1 1/2 hours before the huge buffet breakfast they serve and away we go on a magnificent day of skiing. I go to the front desk and notice it is very quiet and dark outside. I ask about the gym and they say it opens at 6:00 AM but if I want I can go to the coffee shop and have coffee before the gym opens. I go to the counter and ask about the coffee and he says the special coffee's are usually brewed at 6:00 AM. I figure it is close to that now but will not wait I just get a regular cup of coffee. I am so excited about skiing I sit down in a booth and start to read a travel paper. I look at my watch and figure after the cup of coffee I will be ready to hit the gym. Well, after the 9th sip I look at my watch again and start to think. Did I change my watch from New York time. I think again and I almost spit out the coffee. I realize it is 3:00AM and I have a long way to wait. I have now left the room drank coffee and now have to go back to my room, not wake the family and try and go back to sleep with a 1/2 cup of coffee already drank. I laughed for 2 days over that and my family didn't stop for the entire week asking if I was going to the gym for an early workout.

What a great thread!

Our last trip took us to three countries, so we had heard quite a few different accents and languages. The last week of it we were in France, and for some reason I starting speaking in my pathetic Italian. Italy, however, was not a part of that trip, so I have no idea why I started speaking that language!

Frankdaddy--We have been to the Banff Springs Hotel so I am just picturing you at 3am there waiting for the gym, lol!

hightide...
Your message, (thanks), makes me feel better!
Maybe they weren't laughing..maybe they were JUST smiling!

Didn't get invited to any confirmations, but may be next time!! (Grin)

Your husband sounds like my husband, how do they do that???

Message: Have told this one before on an obscure thread which quickly became buried. Here it is again.
We were in Tuscany, driving and recognizing that our rental car was getting pretty tacky after a couple of weeks of touring. We had stopped at a market to get fixings for a picnic. As we left the parking area, we spotted what appeared to be a car wash of some kind just above the market. Good timing. We would take advantage of it. We took the little side road, drove up to the apparent entrance and positioned the car for the wash. I got out and looked at the coin receptacle and, satisfied that I could manage it, I fed the appropriate coins. I quickly joined my wife in the car and waited for the washer to spring into action. Nothing! I got out and read the instructions again, making sure I had put in the right coins. I had. I pushed the slide mechanism in and out several times and quickly jumped into the car again. Nothing! I did this several times and could get no action. Pretty upset by now (damned foreign machines never work like ours), I jumped out to check once more. As I carefully examined the coin mechanism, I happened to look up on the slight rise above the washing apparatus (about 15 yards away). There I saw two elderly gentleman sitting on a bench, caps at a jaunty angle, sweaters tightly buttoned across ample midsections, complexions of leather and they were laughing uproarously; I mean knee slapping, head wagging, belly jumping laughter. They were looking right at us, so we were obviously the source of their mirth. All of a sudden "the light went on". I jumped into the car and moved forward to the under-washer position to wash. The water came on and we got our wash. This was a stationary car wash and no matter how long I would have waited or jiggled that coin mechanism, that washer was never going to move over our car. We obviously made the day for those two old gentleman, "dumb Americans". What a story they had to tell there friends; "there were these two Americans who drove their car in front of the car wash...." This is many years ago and we still cannot remember this experience without breaking into laughter ourselves. The thought of those two old gentleman watching me, in and out of the car, checking the coin op, a car length short of the overhead washer, it's too much.

I don't see my post here so it must be another with the same subject.
Mine was my first time outside of Paris, but that is not important here. We were dining at a resto as a stop off on our way. I had to go to the toilet, but, could not figure how to flush and did not want to face the next woman seeing my bounty. So I stood outside the door and waited for the next female. She was beautiful, humerous, when I tried my few french words and gesturs, she laughed and told me how!!!
She later sent us a glass of champpagne.

We were in Brugge and were jet lagged. Went to bed early. Woke up and it was 9 o`clock! I made every one get up and get dressed, so we could go sight see and have breakfast. Then found out it was actually 9pm, not 9am, and we had barely been to bed! I still get teased about it.

SeaUrchin--tears rolling down by face!
:D :D :D

We were in Metz, France with our two daughters (10 & 14 at the time). Early in the morning I walked from the hotel to the nearest boulangerie to get our morning croissants. I speak some Spanish, but only "bare neccesity" French. I ordered six croissants, she questioned me so I repeated several times, "seis" croissants. Well of course the word for six in Spanish is seis and the French for sixteen is pronounced the same way.

We fed the extra croissants to the birds. My girls (22 & 26 now) never let me forget this incident.

Margy

Okay, well...this embarassing moment didn't happen in Europe, but I'll still share. My husband took me to Mexico last year. Of course, I had to try a Margarita. Very mild. Went down too easily, tasted like it didn't have any alcohol in it! Well, it must have, because during the water Taxi ride back to the mainland, I felt compelled to tell a total stranger about my husband getting "de-ah-raya" from some fish tacos. And then invited her and her kids to come visit us in the US. And then swapped email addresses! Needless to say, I never heard from her, nor did I write. Nor did I have any more margaritas!

<<so I repeated several times, "seis" croissants. Well of course the word for six in Spanish is seis and the French for sixteen is pronounced the same way. >>

Huh? No, the word for sixteen isn't pronounced anything like that in French. The word for 16 in French is "soixante," nothing like the Spanish. It doesn't sound like the same word at all. I'm confused about what you were confused about.

Well....then I'm the one who is confused. Could I have been wrong all these years? I just did a search for French numbers and the first site I came to also has "seize" listed as sixteen in French...

http://french.about.com/library/begin/bl_numbers.htm

Now I'm really confused!

I just took another look at the numbers site...it says that "soixante" is sixty?

Lots of little embarassing moments - but my worst ever one was nearer to home. Was spending a Saturday down in San Francisco w/ a new-ish boyfriend. We were still in the "trying to impress each other, on our best behavior" phase.

The plan was lunch downtown, matinee at ACT, wander through Chinatown/North Beach, dinner at a Japanese restaurant at the Wharf.

OK - in this order: at lunch I spilled an entire glass of red wine down the front of my peach silk dress (no place to change), stubbed my toe on a curb which cause a run about 3 inches wide and all the way up my leg (went into a bathroom and shed my pantyhose), got a attack of hiccups which lasted for more than an hour and nothing worked to stop them (finally went into a bar and got a wedge of lime sprinkled w/ salt and angostera bitters - works every time BTW).

So by now I look like a homeless bag lady w/ stained clothing, scuffed up sandals and mascara stains on my cheeks from all the hiccupping -- but it got worse.

We got to the restaurant and I freshened up as best I could. We were in a screened room and I was feeling adventurous. I had had Japanese food many time but never Sashimi - so that's what I ordered. The boyfriend ordered Sukiyaki so the waitress brought the garnishes for my sashimi and then left to get the hot plate to cook his. I am looking at all the little bits - pickled carrots, radishes, etc. And there is this little ball of green stuff - looked just like Avocado to me. Well I take my chopsticks and pop the entire ball into my mouth -- and MY HEAD EXPLODED! My first ever taste of wasabi!!!!. I lunged for my Saki bottle and downed it in one gulp, reached across the table and downed the BF's saki. Just then the waitress returned and opened the screens. At one glance she knew immediately what had happened. She was wearing those cleated wooden Japanese sandals and a long kimono - but she RAN across the whole restaurant to the bar to get me a pitcher of water. You could hear the click clack of those sandals throughout the whole place.

I really impressed that new boyfriend - yeah, that's for sure :)

Of course, that should be "sake" (oh, the memory is still painful)

Okay so I was In Switzerland with the Girl Guides (yes, a long time ago)and the local outdoor pool often had giant inflatables in it. I was so excited to get in I had changed and put my bathing suit UNDER all my clothes first thing so I could rip it all off and jump in....needless to say after plunging in and fighting my way to the top of a giant slide I stood up and shouted with glee....only to find out that my giant blue 'granny' knickers were still on.....thankfully it was only the WHOLE troop and several local attractive teenagers laughing away. Luckily that was the last time I EVER wore giant undies and to this day never live it down when I run into the 'gang' at home!

hi margyb: Just to make you feel better!seize is 16, soixante is 60, six is six,pronounced like "siss".
Great thread!