Sue_xx_yy

I had just graduated and was on my first trip to Paris and the Louvre. On this particular day I was wearing hiking boots, so I must have looked like a real clodhopper amidst all the elegance around me. I strolled down a wide corridor, looking all about me, revelling in the fact that I had made it here at last. Unfortunately I should have been looking where I was going, because a guard started barking at me and gesturing fiercely. It appears I was about to step onto what I can only describe as a large decorative shield that seemed to be embedded in the floor.

In my haste to comply with his directions, I tripped over my hiking boot laces and landed on my hands and knees on aforesaid shield. The upshot is that not one but two guards, redfaced, now started screaming their heads off.

I was so traumatized by the whole thing that I have never sought to find out just what the thing I landed on was, even though it's probably a famous feature of the Louvre.

celticdreams

Only twice and not too badly.

The first was in France in a parking garage. My first experience with paying at the cash machine before trying to drive out. I didn't know. I pulled the car up, pushed the button and tried to figure out where to put the money or who to give it to. Naturally, the cars were lining up to get out behind me. People were leaning out their windows yelling. Horns were beeping... finally some kind woman (sort of) got out of her car - walked over, motioned at my money. She plucked out the coins I needed, walked over to the other side of the garage, stuck my ticket in a machine and then gave the ticket back to me. I made it out without looking back.

The second time was in Germany when I finally learned that Einbahnstrasse was not the name of the street. (it means one way street) I learned, of course, by going the wrong way down it. A man leaned out his window - shaking his fist at me and screamed "schweinhunde" at me. I made it out and then learned that pigdog is a huge insult in German!

Sue_xx_yy

I loved all the entries, especially chardonnay's.

This thread proves that not only the fabled beauty-challenged American, but many of our European hosts themselves subscribe to the belief that if one's subject does not understand one's language, one need only speak louder.

I SAID, THIS THREAD PROVES THAT IF YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ME, ALL I HAVE TO DO IS.....

PatrickLondon

Two really old ones:

Leipzig 1969, where the trams ran down the middle of the street on a fairly broad track a few inches above road level so cars couldn't drive on it. Nothing in sight (this was the old DDR, so not too many cars anyway), so I decided to walk to the next stop along before the next tram came. Out of the blue an officious whistle, shouts and gesticulations from a policeman. Both parts of Germany are, after all, famous for pedestrians waiting for the light to go green before they cross even if there's no other traffic on view. We Brits (or Londoners especially will dodge the cars on principle, signs or no).

Oh, and I got a total failure of communication when I first tried to find out how much the tram fare was. How was I supposed to know it was 20pf everywhere in the DDR and always had been? How was anyone else to know that anyone who didn't already know it would be using their trams?

An even older and rather different form of being shouted at. My first school exchange trip to Paris, 1963, and I'm being driven by a friend of my host family to a wedding celebration somewhere out in the country. Our kind driver has a very large, slobbering Great Dane in the front and two teenagers in the back of a rather small car. As she hares along the motorway at 100kph she keeps an eye on the direction signs to a place she hasn't been to before, using one hand to keep the dog lying down. On top of that she tries to make the English guest feel at home by shouting out the names of the various sights of supposed interest and using her other hand to point them out....I didn't get to see very much - I didn't dare open my eyes.

Ozarksbill

I was yelled at, as perhaps some of you were, while at the Sistine Chapel. Who could blame me for wanting to sit down on some steps so to better view the magnificent ceiling paintings? And after all, we were a little tired. But as soon as I did so some little old laides came running over yelling at me that that wasn't permitted, so we just craned out necks looking up.
Bill in Missouri

OaktownTraveler

March 123:

I am so sorry that you got hit. OMG.

Really sorry.

Oaktown Traveler

indytravel

Me too march123. Hopefully you didn't land in hospital or have it ruin your holiday.

jimcolorado

Twice come readily to mind. The first was at the airport in Barbados after a flight from Georgetown Guyana a month or so after 9/11. As I was walking across the tarmac toward the terminal I turned to take a picture of the BWIA (BWEE) airplane parked against the beautiful blue sky, I heard somebody yelling "No photo!, No photo!." As I turned around I found myself staring down at the business end of an assault rifle pointed at my stomach. I am glad he yelled first. The second, but for some reason more humiliating was in Venice the folowing summer. My wife and I had stopped at a sidewalk bar to buy a couple of tramezini from the display case. I had studied and practiced Italian before the trip and prided myself on being able to communicate quite well. As I was standing at the bar, I heard somebody saying "Attenzione! Attenzione!" quite loudly. I didn't immediately comprehend the warning until a native Venician pulled me out of the way of a delivery man struggling behing me with a handcart and a very large box. Now if he had said "Hey buddy, get the hell out of my way" in Italian, I would have jumped, but the "Attenzione" certainly didn't get my "Attenzione." I felt so embarrased, I could only walk away from the snickers about the "stupid tourist."

Giovanna

I guess the first time was in the museum on the Acropolis in Athens. Photography was allowed without flash. As you probably have guessed, I thought my flash was disabled when I lined up in front of a statue, aimed and shot and the flash lit up the whole area. A guard came running and chastised me for several minutes. I tried to explain it was not intentional, but....

On another occasion we were on the airport bus from Gatwick to Heathrow on our return trip home. We sat in the first seat after the door across from the driver. There was a sort of shade directly in front of us. I accidentally bumped it and it flew to the top. The bus driver didn't yell, just muttered and yanked the shade down with great force. Again accidental, but....

Both embarrassing but I suppose maybe character building. &gt

swalter518

I too was in Paris for the first time travelling with my friend where we were eventually going to Italy to stay with her relatives. As a result, she had two huge suitcases (the old fashioned kind-hard sides and all)filled with Michael Jordan tee shirts and candy (apparently this was what the Italian relatives wanted and it absolutely could not be shipped to Naples. Now I know why after visiting Naples.) We were dragging these stupid suitcases from DeGaulle through the Metro and up the steps where I finally told her we were getting a cab to the hotel b/c I wasn't dragging her ##$@%luggage any more. We get in the cab, I give the cabbie the hotel address and he starts cursing like crazy in French and proceeds to drive and after about 10 mins. we get to our hotel. Later I realized that our hotel was literally less than a block away from the metro station and the cabbie was ticked at it being such a small fare and took us on the tourist route to make up for it!

TamT

In Venice the rudest waiter to walk the earth made a show out of me because I wanted to have risotto for dinner - it said for 2 people only something like that. I said fine I will pay for 2 people - that is all I want. But NOOOOOO, on and on for 2 people only.

Seated next to us a couple gets what I want and he says SEE they know how to order. He claps and encourages them - now I am mortified and if I wasn't so tired and hungry I would've left. My husband comes to rescue and says fine he'll have the damn risotto. (Hate to admit it but it was delicious)

After that, in Sestri Levante, I was able to handle the Italian grocery clerk storming me over to the vegetable isle with great authority to weigh my fruit, punches out the price lable and slaps it on, then back to the checkout where a considerable line of people were waiting behind me. Whoops.

StCirq

I get yelled at with remarkable regularity by one of the employees of the Bricomarché in Le Bugue, affectionately known in our family as Jeannette the Bricob**ch. It doesn't matter what you do in that store - Jeannette will materialize and stick her face in yours and begin to yell. First it was my attempt to return an item by going to the Customer Service window instead of the cash register (who would have thought?). Jeannette held me up as an example for everyone in the store, screaming "Madame, il faut vous présenter à la caisse, Madame! A LA CAISSE!!" Once I mistakenly grabbed a bag of mulch from the outside of the store and put it in my cart and brought it into the store so I could purchase it - got yelled at royally for that, too - mulch does NOT come inside, Madame!! Another time I innocently asked her where I could buy a bag of sand - "Where do you THINK, Madame! Sand is OUTSIDE, Madame!" But can you bring the sand inside to purchase it? - I didn't ask. Last time I was in the store, Jeannette was haranging some poor Dutch person who wanted to buy some oilcloth in a half-meter length. You'd think the republic was going to fall if he didn't want full meters. On that same trip, though, I saw Jeannette finally reap what she sows. A man was examining a pool wand in the center aisle of the store, and stood up and turned around with it in his hands just as Jeannette came walzing down the aisle - WHAP!! Right in the kisser.

mendota98

In the palace at Versailles my chiildren and I were on a fantastic tour. The guide was the definition of a deep, patriotic, proud Frenchman. One of the people on the tour was leaning on a wall. The guide stopped speaking, excused himself to the group, went over to the man and said "PARDON" with a look of glare ice.

Mu children , 12 and 9, were just in shock. They listened attentively for the next hour and have never forgotten that day. It remains a joke in our family.

==Mike

ThinGorjus

Darling, I get yelled at a lot, actually. I usually yell back and try to spill hot coffee on the bloke. (I never get yelled at by women.)

The funniest experience was at the National Gallery of London years ago with my ex-husband, Tom. We were looking at the Velasquez ROKEBY VENUS, when my husband put his hand on the frame (horror!). A guard across the room yelled, "DON'T TOUCH THE ART." Tom and I both burst out laughing as Tom yelled back, "OK, PATSY." Anyone who is a fan of the Britcom, ABFAB, will recognize the line from one of the shows.

1tiredmama

While traveling in the Pelponese area of Greece, our bus stopped for a break and I went to use a public restroom (not a toilet, but what I call a "pee pit", those self-cleaning things that just aren't). I had tissue packet in hand when I entered the restroom to find an elderly woman with squares of tissue stacked on a filthy table. Since I had my own tissue, I bypassed her, not realizing that she "owned" the place. She yelled at me shaking her fist violently and pointed to her cup with change in it. She really scared me. Oops!

dcespedes

At the Sacre Coeur on a Sunday morning ...my husband walked in with camera in hand...oh, the horror!

SeaUrchin

I was in one of the Medici palaces in Florence and one of the doors was ajar, through it I could see the most beautiful frescos on the ceiling and saw some people standing and I thought they were fellow tourists. I went in and saw people sitting down in folding chairs so I thought they were just tired tourists, I was more interested in the ceiling.

I strolled around taking my time, looking up and really enjoying myself, admiring the views from the windows, etc. then I noticed the room had become hushed, I turned towards the people and realized to my embarassment that they were business people having a private meeting.

The foreman nodded at me and nodded towards the door, I took the hint and sheepishly exited, closing the door as quietly as I could behind me.

Marija

We wandered into the church of Santa Maria Novella in Florence on a Sunday afternoon. The stern priest guarding the door told us a service was in progress. We volunteered that we would pray, since sitting through a service is a great way to experience a church, and this wasn't even a Mass, just a prayer service of some kind. After 20 minutes the priest concluded the prayers and a procession with the largest number of priests, altar boys, incense bearers, etc. that I had ever seen began. Every priest, seminarian and altar boy in Italy, except for perhaps the Pope, was there. Knowing that this was a bad omen for the length of the service to follow, we attempted to escape the church before things got into full swing. (We were willing to commit to a Mass but this was no ordinary Mass!) The guardian- of- the- door priest screamed and sent us back into the church. It took some time before we mustered up the courage to run for it. Haven't ever made it back to Santa Maria Novella...

suze

Hmmm, the only times I've been actually yelled at were at home by my fellow Americans, usually involving men in cars!

Although I have gotten a few frowns from locals for not understanding something most often in a grocery store i.e., how to unhook the grocery cart from the rack in Switzerland(insert coin in handle), messing up the self-serve scale for produce in Venice, wandering around in a health food store in Amsterdam after an announcement had been made for closing time (in Dutch).

BikerScott

I had heard before going to Paris that students get a discount at just about everything - museums etc. I hadn't heard about the age limit - I'm an adult part-time student so I have a student card. I'd been showing all the ticket agents my card and no one questioned me about it - until the miltary museum at Les Invalides.
I speak a bit of converstational french if it's relatively slow - not, however, when being yelled at by a rather angry, elderly ticket agent, who I later gathered, was asking for some form of ID that had my date of birth on it.
Ended up paying full fare (as I should have) after about 5 minutes of extremely embarrassing confusion.