What was your biggest travel mistake, faux pas or blunder?
 

Now that I'm getting a little older, I look back on some of my early travel blunders and wonder how I could have been so stupid. Has anyone else ever had such experiences? If so, would you care to share? Maybe our collective confessions will spare other travelers similar embarrassment. One rule, though. No piling on. Anyone who posts knows he/she did a dumb thing, so there's no need to point out all of the errors. Expressions of sympathy are permitted. <BR> <BR>OK, I'll go first. About 13 years ago, I took a trip to Italy, Germany, Spain etc. with a connecting return flight that had a long layover in Paris. I had traveled all over for about a month, so I figured I could handle anything. Since I had never been to Paris, I figured I'd just hop off of the plane, exchange a few dollars for francs, catch the train, and get a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower. Problem: I didn't speak even a word of French, and my guidebook and phrase book were in my checked luggage. Undaunted, I set off anyway. I was shocked to find that the subway maps were in French, and there was no stop clearly marked "Eiffel Tower." So I just got off in the middle of Paris somewhere, figuring I could find it. I left the subway, and lo and behold, I could actually see the Eiffel Tower -- but it was miles away, and it looked kind of small and hazy. So I figured I'd go back into the subway and ask someone how to get to the Eiffel Tower. I approached every French person who came near me with the following question: "Ooo aaaa Eiffel Tower?" They all recoiled in horror and totally ignored me. I guess I was lucky no one slapped me across my face. Discouraged, with time running out, and having only a few francs to get back to the airport, I gave up, went back to the airport, and to this day, that is the only glimpse of the Eiffel Tower I have ever had. I did get quite a good look at the subway, though. <BR> <BR>So what is the moral of the story? Don't just set off with limited time and minimal money and no language skills or map or planning whatsoever and expect everyone to speak English and be your personal tour guide.

My biggest mistake was the idea that I could take the train from Paris to Calais, catch a cab to the ferries, take the ferry to Dover, go through customs, take a cab to the train station, take the train to London, take a cab to King's Cross and take a 4 1/2 hour train trip to Edinburgh in one day. <BR> On my first trip to Europe, I had no idea of distance or travel time. Needless to say I was exhausted after doing this all in one day. <BR> I laugh about it now, but I was never so tired. Plus, I forgot to mention that I carried all of my girlfriend's luggage. She carried my small bag and I carried her's (one bag was as large as a small refrigerator). <BR> I definitely learned a lot from that trip. I thankfully have had many successful trips since that experience. The total travel time of that day was approximately 15 hours. (ouch, how embarrassing)

My most embarassing blunder was many years ago in Paris(a mother and daughter trip). My mom and I decided to splurge and go to a nicer restaurant than we had been going to . I decided to order snails but did not quite get the hang of the tongs,removal,etc. Yes-the first one went flying right into the next table where the patrons were mortified.The waiter remarked in french to them that we were Americans and that "perhaps" we did not understand the "french" way of snail shell removal. <BR>I was ready to crawl under the table ! Years later-I have mastered the fine art!!!! Debbie

In Venice, it was Lorenzo. In Siena, it was Alessandro. (For those of you with your minds in the gutter, nothing REALLY happened.) I could pass along some words of wisdom to females traveling solo for their first time, but I really don't want to broadcast my experiences. Suffice it to say that I'm not as naive as I once was (I hope).

Haven't done this myself, but I've noticed the biggest blunder anyone can make is to book flights and rooms through a travel agent to a foreign destination and engage in no other preparation whatsoever. I am continuously astonished at the American tourists in shorts and sneakers found in hotel lobbies and on street corners who've not read (much less brought one along) a single tour guide, don't "need" a map, and assume they'll find friendly locals who speak English and will tell them where to go, what to do, how to get there, what it costs (all in English).

Blunder 1 - losing your Hotel. <BR>I have searched for my hotel for 40 mins knowing that I'm within a few hundred yards of it.This occurs in cities with narrow confusing alleys, everything looks different after dark. <BR> The best place I know for lost people is Amsterdam - it's circular street pattern mashes your sense of direction. By late evening the streets are full of bleary eyed sore footed lost souls. <BR>Usually they have given up screaming at one another by that time & are resigned to blundering around until they either hit it by accident or mercifully stumble into a canal. <BR> The worst cases are those who have also forgotten the name of their hotel - easily done, you dump your bags & head out excitedly.... <BR> They can be spotted in the lobbies of other hotels saying "it looks a bit like this place except....do you take Visa?" <BR>

We flew from Dallas to Guadalajara. No problem. Except the entire plane's load of luggage did not go to Guadalajara; it went to Montego Bay, Jamaica. My wife and I checked into a hotel. "It happens all the time, senor," said the desk clerk. So we waited in Guadalajara three days until our luggage showed up on the fourth day, covered in U. S. Customs Service plastic tape because it exited the U. S. and re-entered the U. S. and left the U. S. unaccompanied by its owners. Since this happened many years ago and we had little travel experience, we had not packed a change of clothes in our carry-on. Nor had we packed our toilet articles, medicines, and other necessities separately. So we shuffled around our Guadalajara hotel room, dressed in towels, while our clothing dried. I grew a moustache; a total failure. And we learned a thing or two about Mexican hospitality, how to pack, and how to laugh a lot at ourselves.

Our biggest mistake was taking an organized tour! Why do Americans spend thousands of dollars and travel half way around the world to make friends with Doris and Fred from Des Moines?

Hopping off a train arriving in Amsterdam at 10:00 PM in summer and not taking the first room offered to us. We were backpacking and couldn't believe they were asking $30 a head! <BR> <BR>Well, we soon figured out that that had been our last chance for a room and spent the night in the train station - until they closed it to clean the floors at about 2:00 AM. We weren't alone, of course, there were plenty of other backpackers, roving aggressive drunks, homeless and drug users to keep us company. Even the occasional police car would quietly sneak up on the sidewalk only to blast its siren and lights to scare the hell out of everyone. The cops laughed harder every time. <BR> <BR>So we spent a surprising cold and very eye-opening night holding a very strong grip on our packs. I make advance reservations without fail from then on.

Not getting a sleeper car from Rome to Milan on our honeymoon. There we sat in our Gap khakis and polo shirts (yes, learned from that too) while the world's largest and scariest people got on and off the train during the night. Each time three new people would sit across from us and stare while laughing and speaking some indistinguishable foreign language. Feeling so stupid and knowing exactly how we looked we wanted to curl up under the seat - or at least construct a sandwhich board that read, "Yes we are stupid Americans and we look REALLY scared!" <BR>Thankfully we arrived in Milan in one piece and got to the airport to catch our flight back to Dallas. Only to be told we were at the wrong airport with one and a half hours to spare ("you mean there is more than one airport in Milan!"). We hopped into an unmarked taxi driven by another huge person wearing one black, well used glove (as we sat there thinking, "you know how easy it would be for him to pull over, kill us and take off with our empty wallets?"). $200 American dollars later we were at the right airport. Filthy and shaken, but laughing and CERTAINLY wiser!! :)

Well, there was the time my wife and I decided to try to drink an Italian guy under the table. We went to a cute restaurant in Milan on our last night in Italy. At another table there was a huge Italian man eating by himself. He ordered an entire vat of red wine. This bottle was huge! Much bigger than a two-liter bottle of Coke, if I recall. We noticed this, and then it was time for us to order. We asked for the same huge tub-o-wine, and we decided that it would be fun to drink every time the big man drank. (Now, we were in our early 30s, light drinkers, and we ought to have known better than to engage in such childishness). Anyway, he was really going at this bottle of wine, and so were we. I honestly don't recall if we finished the whole thing, or if he did. Frankly, I don't remember the food, either. Anyway, we paid the check and wandered around for what seemed like forever trying to find our hotel. I don't think we were loud or obnoxious, just pathetic. But I do recall feeling pretty awful on that long flight home early the next morning. So we learned that we can't hold our liquor at all, and I can't say we did a whole lot for the image of Americans abroad. Let's just say we'll never do that again.

Putting Unleaded gasoline in a car that only took Diesel!!!!! In Salzburg, at rush hour, rain pouring down....Trolly's chugging up the street. Our poor little rented Fiat made it about 80 feet out of the gas station when my husband, informed me (his voice rising in panic) that the more he pressed down on the excelerator, the less power got to the engine... 10 feet later the Fiat expired... Of course we were in the middle of the street, directly on top of trolly tracks! Did I mention that we were going UP hill in bumper to bumper? <BR>Some guy who was a passenger in a car going the opposite direction jumped out and helped my poor husband push our red Fiat up the hill and over to the side of the road.. just barely missing a nasty encounter with one of the trolly cars. The stranger never said a word, just helped push and then ran back to his own car!(where ever you are, who ever you are... THANK YOU). Of course we were on our way to drop off the car at the rental agency and catch a train to Budapest. We didn't have any cash and were quite far away from the train station. As luck would have it, our deceased Fiat had landed on a curb next to this clothing store. We ran in and asked to use the phone (of course we were out of Austrian Currency, weren't we on our way to Hungary?) This LOVELY young woman who worked in the shop, ran out into the pouring rain, tried to start our car (she could read the manual since it was in German)pronounced it dead, called the rental car company and had them agree to come and pick it up, then GAVE us enough schillings to pay for a bus that took us to the train station!!!! (Again, who ever you are, where ever you are THANK YOU). <BR>End result,we made our train to Budapest with time to spare, the rental car company took care of the Fiat, we enjoyed the rest of our trip, had a dozen laughs at our own foolishness, pronouced the citizens of Salzburg Austria The Finest of any people anywhere!!!! And learned a valuable lesson. Did I mention that the clothing store where the girl worked sold one line of clothing only... guess what it was called? Diesel!!!

Overpacking! And, as I am a slow learner, doing it over and over again. Until I finally learned my lesson on a trip to Acapulco. I have told this story before on the Forum, so if you have heard it, please skip over this... <BR>For a one-week trip to Acapulco, I had packed practically every summer clothing item we owned (for my husband, daughter and me). We each had one HUGE suitcase and myriad carry-on items. When we were leaving our condo one night for dinner, my husband suddenly became ill. We were lucky he was able to make the plane two days later, and in the sweltering, withering heat, my daughter and I had to maneuver all the baggage. During a layover in Mexico City, I suddenly became ill in the terminal. We had left the condo at 7 in the morning, and we finally arrived at Newark Airport around 8 p.m. at night. There were severe storms up and down the East Coast, flights were being delayed and canceled, and we had to trek all those heavy suitcases all over the place, while we also kept an eye out for convenient restrooms... <BR>Our commuter flight kept getting delayed, and finally took off, in the storm, around midnight. It bounced all over the place and I actually didn't care if it crashed as it would put me out of my misery. Ten minutes after takeoff, the pilot decided to return to Newark. At 12:30 a.m. we had to retrieve all that luggage once again and stand in line at the phones with other stranded passengers to find a hotel room, for which we payed an exorbitant rate, in order to get a few hours sleep and then return to the airport for an 8 a.m. flight. At that point, I wanted to give my luggage away (or at least sell it to make up for the price of that hotel room). <BR>I learned my lesson. We are going to Spain for 28 days this summer, and we are each taking one SMALL suitcase with wheels and one carry-on with changes of clothing in case of lost luggage. I am taking far less to Europe for a month that I took to Mexico for a week. <BR>PS: You are right in what you are thinking--we didn't wear even half the clothing that we carted with us to Mexico.

My biggest mistake was made on my first trip out of the country 24 years ago. My travel partner and I were flying to London from Canada, but on separate flights and arriving at different airports (Heathrow and Gatwick). We asked a friend where we should arrange to meet. Our friend, who claimed she had been to London, suggested the 'magazine stand at Victoria Station'. How were we to know that the place was huge? I can't believe that we were so naive, but we had made no backup plans in the event of not meeting up. Fortunately we managed to find one another and the trip continued. We then flew to Athens - for some reason we were on separate flights again and I flew out of England 2 days before my friend. The deal was that I was to meet her at the airport. I think I had only the foggiest idea of her flight, just approximate arrival time. (We were slow learners.) Amazingly enough, she was the first person I saw when I got into the airport. <BR> <BR>That was my first trip. I still can't believe how well it turned out - set me up for a lifetime of happy travels.

Taking the wrong shoes to Paris without realizing how much walking I'd be doing. I had these cutesy loafers (with a fashionable but not-made-for-extended-walking square chunky heel) and a pair of mid-heel leather boots. I wanted to be ''fashionable'' but my adventurous side won out. By the third day, my feet had swollen like sausages. I swallowed my pride and bought a pair of sneakers in a street market the next day. So much for fashion. But aaaah, the relief...

I am sure there are many ladies on this forum that will certainly empathize with me; still..... I accompanied my husband on a business trip to France that was to be followed by a two-week vacation in England/Scotland. While in France, I found myself in the middle of an incredible designer suits sale (Cacharell, Chanel, named it....). I went overboard and had to carry about 30 pounds of extra lugagge for the rest of the trip. Not a pretty sight.

Cindy, <BR>Having lived and driven in New York, Houston and Atlanta over the years, driving in European cities rarely intimidates me. However..... <BR>I was driving with my wife from Bruges to Brussels'Centraal Station with the intent of picking up another couple with whom we would continue our journey through the Low Countries. There is absolutely no rhyme, reason or symmetry to Brussels'arrangement of streets. Street signs are doubly confusing since they're in both Flemish and Walloon. Needless to say I proceeded to get lost, until.....until I found myself smack dab in the middle of the Grand Place. Me, wife, Renault, 9 bazillion flower pots and an equal number of bemused tourists, all agape in one of Europe's most stunning squares and one from which no escape seemed possible. We'll cross the square to rue Chair et Pain by the Maison du Roi, where we can hang a right on rue de Marche aux Herbes to the train station, thought I and proceeded to wend my way past zinnias, marigolds and tourists immobilized with trepidation. Alas, rue Chair was a shambles with cobblestones in the process of being reset by work crews. What to do? Wife announces cheerily "Why not ask the two policemen coming toward us how to get out of here?" "No-o-o-o", say I, "we'll cross the square and exit to the right of the Hotel de Ville. See the little street there?" The two policemen had their hands, not on their guns, but apparently on either ticketing books or warrants for our arrest and long term incarceration. "Let's get outta here!" say I as I career past geraniums and gallardias in a sort of floral Gymkana. Plowing through petunias, we turn up rue de la Tete D'Or only to be confronted by a two foot high chain stretched across the rue. "Unhook it", say I. "Unhook what?", asks she. "Unhook the chain from the post so it lies on the ground, I'll drive over it, you rehook it and we're out of here", say I. "You're mad!", says she. "I'm neither angry nor insane" say I. "If you want to see 'mad', look at the faces on the two cops bearing down on us back there." "Oh" says she, scampers out of the car, unhooks the chain, lowers it, waves me on over it, raises the chain and hooks it, waves gaily to the cops, hops in the car and off we went.

My husband and I had taken an Air Force hop up to Rhein Main and were trying to get to Berchesgaden for a military retreat. We had to take a train Berchesgaden. When we boarded at Frankfurt, because the train was getting crowded, I decided I wanted to go into a car farther down on the train instead of the one we were told to. The train split the cars later on and we wound up in Austria someplace at the end of the line, standing in line at customs and trying to explain to them that we were supposed to be in Berchesgaden. Finally they took pity on us and let us back onto another train that was going where we needed to go and we didn't have to pay. I learned to follow directions from that experience.

Overpacking when taking a backpack in '94. I couldn't carry it after London (first port of call) and had to buy a trolley to carry it on. <BR>My trouble now is that I don't overpack, but then proceed to buy things when I'm away to fill the bag up! I'm an incurable shopaholic, I'm afraid.

Many, many moons ago my friend and I ran <BR>to catch the ferry from Tangiers back to <BR>Spain; I had to make an 'urgent call' - <BR>luckily there was an outhouse on the dock - let's just say the wooden floor <BR>was 'awash' - as I was doing up my pants <BR>the ferry ticket I had clenched between <BR>my teeth fell onto the 'wet' ground just <BR>as my partner yelled that we were going <BR>to miss the boat - without thinking I <BR>picked up the sodden ticket and PUT IT <BR>BACK IN MY MOUTH!! O the horror; o the <BR>fear! Finally after a month of fretting <BR>I realized I'd dodged the bacterial bullet! Ah youth! <BR>