Kris_Peterson

Of all the Hotels in Italy, I embarassed myself at the San Pietro in Positano, the shee-shee-est hotel I think I've ever stayed in. <BR><BR>I successfully put on cool &quot;I stay at places like this all the time&quot; airs during our four day stay, and on the morning of the 5th day, we packed up our tons of baggage, called the porter for assistance, and went to the lobby to settle the bill. <BR><BR>As they were printing out the receipt, the desk clerk got a very upset look and asked &quot;oh. I am so sorry that you didn't enjoy your stay and will be leaving us. Is there anything that was wrong?&quot; <BR><BR>It took a long time for me to figure out what was amiss; my poor husband (shocked and mortified)sorted it out much quicker. We weren't supposed to check out until the NEXT day! Since I was the itinerary-maker, I was the only one to blame. We had the porter wheel our stuff back to the room, and we &quot;re-checked in&quot;.<BR><BR>Too much limoncello the night before. Or perhaps in my mind, we couldn't have possibly afforded a 5-night stay. Or maybe anxious to get to Tuscany. <BR><BR>Oh Well. Best part was: one more day in Positano in a fantastic hotel, and a day trip to gorgeous Ravello!

maitaitom

&quot;Too much limoncello the night before.&quot;<BR><BR>Yes, it happens to all of us sooner ot later.

Figaro

I've posted this somewhere before... probably under language barriers...<BR><BR>When in England in 84 my husband landed in the hospital for several days. We'd been all over the countryside for the week prior so most of our laundry was pretty - you get the picture.<BR><BR>He was in his hospital bed in his t-shirt and gym shorts for ... too long. He asked me to take his laundry to get it washed and he'd ask the nurse for a johnny.<BR><BR>That evening when I called him to say goodnight, he told me he'd had the most confusing conversation with the nurse when he asked her for a johnny. After several attempts, and several other nurses running into the room yelling &quot;what did you ask Sister??&quot;, he told them he wanted the gown that tied in the back... oh, they said, a dressing gown! What's a johnny? a condom... crazy American!

Maira

mj, is your last name Ross?

bookchick

This is DEFINITELY one of the most enjoyable threads we've had here in while! Keep 'em coming in &amp; don't be bashful! (If you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?)<BR><BR>BC

mclaurie

It was my first time driving in England and my first time in the English countryside. I had 2 friends in the car who wouldn't come NEAR the steering wheel. We were driving along a 2 lane road (one lane each direction) with sheep and amazing rolling hills as far as your eye could see. I was screaming at the top of my lungs &quot;I feel like I'm in a PBS series&quot; when I noticed a sign with symbols I didn't understand. The next thing I knew I had a red stop light in front of me sitting on a metal tripod like a music stand(we were in the middle of NOWHERE- stop light???) I slammed on the breaks &amp; managed to stop but the 3 cars behind me didn't...the small van behind me wound up in a ditch while the other 2 cars spun in the opposite direction. <BR><BR>They were doing roadwork &amp; only had one lane open so this light was timed to let opposing traffic pass. We pulled over to the side of the road &amp; my friends helped push the van out of the ditch while I sunk low in the driver's seat with the van driver screaming expletives I'd never heard before.

Bob1

Still hard to believe this one: When I was stationed in Germany in 1970-71 I had a map that I used to travel around Germany. When my wife and I took our first trip back to Germany in 1988 I took the old map to use. Boy! It took me two days to figure out that they had been busy in 17 years. I was driving on the old roads and hearing the sounds of autobahn next to me. My wife still calls me a dummy for that one. We sure got places a lot quicker with the new map!<BR><BR>Driving on the sidewalk in Rudesheim? Never mind.....later.<BR><BR>

mj

Maria,<BR>No Mamam, I'm not a &quot;Ross&quot;. I posted my name only once in response to one of Unka' Sam's rants.

indytravel

Speaking of limoncello, it was actually Chimay beer in Li�ge, Belgium that contributed to my downfall.<BR><BR>My friend and I had left Luxembourg City that morning, stopped in Viandan where he twisted his ankle a bit and arrived tired, thirsty and hungry in Li�ge. We checked into our hotel and walked a half-block to a little Italian restaurant and started unwinding. Several courses and Chimays later it was time to go and we discovered that we had a bunch of French francs and a few Luxembourg francs usable in Belgium. The establishment didn't take credit cards.<BR><BR>Through my poor French I determined the bank machine was too far. We discussed back and forth and determined we could pay with French francs, but the waiter told me the exchange rate would be poor which was OK. We paid the approximate 40USD tab that included the service. I was leaving a nice tip of my only Luxembourg note that was a 500LUF worth about 11USD. To the credit of the waiter he tried to give it back, but I was insistent that he keep it. He did look surprised. The next day I figured out I'd given him a 500FF bill worth about 70USD. No wonder the waiter looked surprised. <BR><BR>Thankfully the Euro has come along.

richardab

I'm in France. i am driving from Paris to Strasbourg in a shiney green Citroen. French car, french countryside, french road signs. I am more than halfway there and I see that I am low on gas. Not knowing the road ahead I stop at a rest area to refuel. I pull up, I look at the tanks. What do I put in this? It seems like I have a choice of 3 different types of gas, with lead? without? gasohol? I look and look. I find the cars manual written in French and look some more. I am a man I don't like to ask. Besides i can't ask them in French. I keep looking through the French manual. Nothing. OK, I'll ask. It takes two or three tries but I end up putting something sans-???? whatever. I think that means no lead. OK, great. I am ready to fill. I pull up I get out I look. There is the gas compartment, but how do I open it? There is no knob, no keyhole. I look in the car, I look under the seat, I look under the dash. No button. I pull aside because I can't open the tank. I look more. I feel under the dash, I look in the glove compartment, I toy with the knobs and lever around the steering wheel. I pull on a lever under the dash, the hood opens. Nope. I look thru the French manual, nothing. Time passes. I get out. I look at the thing. I tap it. It opens. Shit. Just push in and it pops open. Damn. Its been a half hour. I feel stupid. I fill. I hope no one was watching. Am�ricain Stupide.<BR><BR>I drive away.

Rudy

We're walking on the moors in England on a blustery day. No one is in sight for miles. I ask my dear hubby to reenact the scene from &quot;Wuthering Heights&quot; where Cathy is calling for Heathcliff. Reluctantly, he agrees. I climb to a high area and shout lustily, &quot;Heathcliff!&quot; No answer. I shout louder and more lustily, &quot;HEATHCLIFF!&quot; Then I realize why DH hasn't answered. A man walking his dog smiles up at me and says, &quot;No need to feel embarassed. Happens all the time.&quot;

wayno

I was in Copenhagen, alone, and took a cab to what I understood was a pretty happening bar. But, as I exited the cab, I neglected to remember that, to the immediate right of the cab, was not the sidewalk but the bike lane. Just as I swung the door open, I heard 2 big thumps, one following the other and saw 2 comely young women go flying over the handlebars of their respective bikes. This is now only embarrassing and not tragic because, after I checked on them and got the deserved tonguelashing, neither turned up injured. However, it was so unnerving I never went into the bar but instead just turned and walked to my hotel.

kosmonaught

Was at Heathrow airport a yaer ago. My then girlfriend and I had just had a Huuge Mexican meal right before we left for the airport ( I know eating mexican food in England is silly, but the food we had all vacation was abyssmal, and I HAD to have salsa or perish)!<BR> As we are going through check-out, BAM I Had to (how can I put this gentilely) donate an offering to the porcelain deity! I begged her to stop so I could go, but she insisted we had no time. She was practically dragging me through the airport. My pleading was getting almost meniacal after a while, and she insisted we hurry. Finally, I let go of her hand, and in a really loud voice, AND in front of a group of English airport police, said, &quot;Honey, I've GOT to drop the Bomb!&quot;<BR> Needless to say post 9-11 security was waaaaaay Not amused! I had to demurely explain to them it was just a saying, and that I'm a harmless, and STUPID midwesterner. Needless to say taking care of the said problem which by this point was a intensive emergency on a airplane is not fun.

AnnM

Driving through the French countryside after a day out, back towards our rented cottage, we found various roads blocked and officials of some sort waving us in other directions. We kept trying different routes until eventually my husband said triumphantly that he had found the back road into the village.<BR>Increasing numbers of people appeared at the sides of the roads until there were crowds on either side, leaning forward to get a better look. &quot;What are all those people looking at?&quot; asked our sons. &quot;We seem to be approaching the finishing tape for a cycle race&quot; answered my husband, as I slipped lower and lower in my seat with embarassment. Crazy Anglais indeed!

JmVikmanis

We were in Innsbruck staying at the Steiglbrau hotel. I had gotten the room using my very bad German--ein zimmer for svei nacht is what I thought I'd said. On the second day of our stay we returned from a long walk and found our bags packed and in our room with a note in German and full of exclamation marks. My husband showered and layed down for a nap--in the alltogether as they say--while I went to the desk to figure out what was going on. Meanwhile Brunhilde the maid rushes into the room, as my husband hurriedly pulls the sheet about him--says nary a how do you do but rushes to the other side of the bed, grabs the phone and calls the desk. Turns out I had apparently only asked for the room for one night and a Japanese tourist group had the hotel fully booked for the second. The had settled the matter by rebooking some poor Japanese tourist into a sister hotel but it was plain that they were not very happy with my booking error. Ever since my husband has been a bit more modest when lying about hotel rooms whether locked or unlocked.

klondike

Traveling with my husband and two teenage sons, both having studied French. Husband, NOT. My husband trying to impress, hugs me and suavely announces to the world: Ah, mon petit cochon (my little pig) Instantaneous silence...then gales of laughter. My sons informed dad, he'd probably do better using mon petit-choux (my little cream puff)! It's become a standard family joke now.

Marilyn

I once caused an entire luncheon table of Japanese to gasp and stare at me in stunned silence as I passed a tidbit from my chopsticks to my husband's. It seems that is how Buddhist monks pass the bones of the dead. I'm not sure if it is sacrilegious, bad luck, or just terrible manners, but it was probably the hugest faux pas I've ever made.

Milhaus1000

I'd taken French in college and tried to brush up on it before our trip, and felt pretty confident in the basics. But when we got to Paris and it came time to use it, it all seemed to fly out of my head! Eventually, I calmed down and was fine until one odd experience w/a shopkeeper make me realize I was greeting him and asking him if I spoke english (instead of asking him if he spoke english). No wonder he kept looking at me like I was an idiot!

Peggyann

OK here it is. My husband andI made a pact that we would never reveal this to anyone, but hey, I'm among friends right, at least friends on the Web who are also admitting to some really embarassing snafoos. We were in Florence about a month ago for 3 weeks. In the second week we had arranged to go to Rome for a few days by train. So we ask around and find out that we can take Bus #24 from near our street and save ourselves the longish walk to SMN train station. Wonderful, we get on said bus, it drops us off right in front of the station. I, in my obsessive way of &quot;Making Sure&quot; that we find our way back on our return, take very careful notice of exactly where that #24 deposited us. And so three days later at around 7 PM we pull into SMN and off we head for the previously well noted spot. I look to make sure that #24 is on the sign post, and sure enough, it's listed. We wait, #24 comes along. We are first in line and so smug that we are getting street smart in Firenze at last. So smug that we dared to refrain from putting our tickets into the machine, just like so many others. We're doing great!!! Around the city we go, first noting that we were taking a new and strange route through the city. Now we've been to Florence many times and sort of know generally where we are and where we thought we should be. The bus is getting very empty. The familiar streets of the Centro are nowhere to be seen. John and I exchange worried glances. And then we spy the big sign FIRENZE with the RED LINE through it. We've been on the roads of Italy enough to know what THAT means. We are in the middle of Nowhere. The driver pulls over, turns around, I dash up the aisle and we procede to try to communicate. After saying DUOMO a few times and looking sort of panic stricken for fear that we've been kidnapped we finally come to realize that, no, we are not to be murdered by a bus driver. After a 10 minute discussiom, my terrible Italian failing to make the mark, and his total lack of Inglese causing lots of frustration on his part, we come to find that there are TWO #24 bus routes, one going into, and one going out of Centro and that this one will be going back into Centro in about 15 minutes. So I take a seat and wait it out. We finally see the Duomo and get off. It is a five minute walk to our Apartment. Probably an hour and a half has gone by since our train had pulled in. It would have taken us 17 minutes to walk home. I am humbled, once again.Stupido americanos.

Judyrem

Mataitom: very funny story, I actually started laughing out loud, and my husband came into see what was what. I can just imagine that happening to us! Richardab: very funny too! Wonderful thread!