Find the silver lining: Part 1 of travel disasters, robbery, and other mishaps

Floods, illness, scams, robbery, pandemics, taking the wrong train, losing our daughter, motor falling off a boat in a storm. Not all our travel experiences have been idyllic. But what seems like a travel disaster often turns into a sound lesson for future travels, and even a funny story or trip highlight.

We’ve had our share of hiccups, nightmares, mistakes, challenges, scams, near-misses, and even life-threatening situations. In fact, we’ve had so many that I’ve broken our stories into two parts, for your reading enjoyment – or horror – at our moments of naiveté and downright idiocy.

Here is Part 1 of our funny and hair-raising travel disaster stories and the silver-lining lessons we’ve learned.

Tickets! Need ‘em!

Passports! Need ‘em!

We visited Boston, U.S.A., for a four-day weekend with our three kids (then aged 5, 8, and 11) and booked a hotel in the suburbs where it was cheaper. After we walked the Freedom Trail and met Paul Revere, we went to the station to board our train to the ‘burbs.

“Tickets! Need ‘em,” called the uniformed man selling tickets on the platform.

“Well, that’s dumb,” I muttered. “Of course we need tickets.”

Tickets already in hand, we hopped on the train. But as we rode along, the stops didn’t seem right. Bill and I sat discussing our confusion, and a woman overheard us.

“You’re on the wrong train,” she explained. “This one’s going to Needham. You’ll have to get off at the next station and then take the… You know what? Get off with me and I’ll drive you to your hotel.”

We demurred, saying it was too much, what with our three kids and luggage and all. But she insisted. So we did. We got into her station wagon, stopped at a daycare centre to pick up her toddler, and then she drove us right to our hotel door.

We heaped our gratitude upon her, but she simply smiled and waved. She restored my faith in human kindness and the goodness of most strangers. We vowed to pay it forward.

Lessons: Needham is a place name. Most strangers are good. Don’t be afraid to accept help when offered; people can turn a travel disaster into an act of kindness. And doublecheck where the train is going!

Robberies on buses

The blue daypack (left) is like the one we stole in Thailand. After the bus robbery, Rachel wore her new green-and-purple bikini for the rest of the trip.

When we got on the Costa Rican bus, the driver told everyone not to put their bags on the overhead rack. But everyone else did exactly that, so we did too, keeping our valuables on our persons, of course. The bus made many stops on our trip to the Arenal Volcano. At one, Liz called out “Mom! He’s got our bag!”

I’d been watching out the window to ensure no one took our large bags from underneath the bus. “It’s okay, sweetie. Our bags are fine.”

“No, Rachel’s bag!” She pointed at a man disappearing with Rachel’s daypack. Bill immediately jumped off the bus and ran after him. All my meagre Spanish vanished as I simultaneously tried to warn the driver about the robbery and guard Bill’s seat from people who wanted to take it. I was afraid the driver would leave without Bill or that he’d be attacked in an alley by the robber or thugs.

Finally, phew, Bill returned, without the bag, and we kept on going to the Arenal hot springs. Rachel’s GameBoy, her bathing suit and her sweet little six-year-old’s journal were gone. (The journal was the biggest loss.)

When we got to the hot springs, I tried to turn this travel disaster around by going into the gift shop to find a substitute bathing suit. I ended up buying the smallest adult bikini I could find, which was generous in the chestal region and looked funny on a six-year-old! But Rachel was quite pleased with it.

Later, the unthinkable happened. We robbed someone!

Inadvertently, of course. We got off a bus in northern Thailand with a daypack that looked exactly like Liz’s. After the bus drove away, we realized we had two daypacks that looked exactly like Liz’s. We felt absolutely terrible because we knew how robbery felt.

No ID in the pack – just a change of men’s clothes. We eventually found a police station and took the backpack there, trying to explain what had happened to the Thai policemen, who spoke no English. (We could barely say “Hello” or “Thank you” in the difficult tonal Thai language.) We finally just left the pack with them, hoping the owner might contact the police there.

Lessons: Check your bags carefully to see that they’re yours. Put ID in your bag. Trust the driver when he says not to put your bags in the overhead rack.

Parrot and monkey scams

We fell prey to the parrot scam in London… or did we?

Back in 1987, Bill and I visited London, England, where a nice man perched parrots on our hands and shoulders. He took a photo and promised to mail it to us in Canada, for £5. Even though we were travel newbies, we sensed a scam but were too polite to refuse. So we handed over our £5, knowing we’d never see the photo. About a month later, we received the photo in the mail!

Fast forward to three kids later, on our Round-the-World trip, we’d been falling prey to the animal-kid-cute-photo scam. A person foists (sometimes rather aggressively) a parrot or monkey on your child’s shoulder and, after you’ve exclaimed “Oh, how adorable!” and taken several photos, demands money.

(Perhaps I shouldn’t call it a scam, since it was a way for extremely poor people to make some needed cash. We just weren’t initially aware of the cash demand when you take your own photo.)  

Ten-year-old Liz loved this monkey encounter in Singapore.

Seven-year-old Rachel and 10-year-old Liz, who adored animals, were magnets for the animal owners. We, however, felt uncomfortable about supporting a money-making venture that involved animals who were often mistreated. And, we were tired of shelling out money at every tourist attraction for the same photos.

At the Batu Caves in Malaysia, we sat the kids down and explained our cunning plan. When we saw people with monkeys and parrots, we would let the kids walk ahead and meet the animals. We, however, would walk straight past and ignore them, pretending we didn’t know whose kids these were. While we waited up ahead, the kids could honestly say “Sorry, I don’t have any money.” Then they’d catch up to us.

Worked like a charm!

Lesson: Just because we’re not aware of how things work doesn’t always make it a scam. But it’s still tiresome.

Flight delays and cancellations

I finally smiled after United Airlines rebooked our flight with Cape Air to Culebra, Puerto Rico.

United Airlines notified us that our next-day flight from Ottawa to San José in Puerto Rico had been cancelled. No reason given – it wasn’t even weather-related despite it being snowy February in Ottawa.

Our plan had been to land in San José and immediately take a smaller plane to Culebra, an island off the east coast. The cancellation meant we would also lose our money on that flight and that hotel night.

Bill spent hours and hours on the phone trying to rebook our flight, turning down options that included 19-hour layovers and other ridiculous substitutions. Finally, United found us acceptable flights for the following day and also re-booked us on the Culebra flight, even though they didn’t have to.

We lost one night’s hotel room but, more importantly, we lost a precious day of our vacation. When we were working full-time, that lost day meant more to us than now, when we’re retired.    

Lessons: Don´t book back-to-back flights. Don’t accept ridiculous substitute flights.

Nine-minute pack

We travelled around the world with our kids when they were aged 7, 10 and 13.

I awoke with a start at 6:51 a.m. in our Singapore YMCA family room. Our taxi to the train station was arriving in nine minutes! I woke Bill and our three kids, who quickly sensed the urgency in my voice.

“Put your clothes on, then throw everything into your backpack as fast as you can,” I said. “Don’t even brush your teeth! We’ll do that at the train station.”

Fortunately, we had pre-packed the night before, but we still had much to do in nine minutes. We couldn’t be late because we still had to buy tickets at the train station and get on the right train (see Tickets! Need ‘em!).

We all packed at lightning speed, raced downstairs, checked out, and got to the curb as the taxi arrived. All in nine minutes! That was a record for us. Travel disaster averted! I was proud of the kids.

Lessons: Set multiple alarms for early morning departures. Our kids are amazing under pressure!

Pandemics and friends

I have never been so relieved and happy to see an Air Canada airplane as when this one finally landed in Buenos Aires to take us home to Canada at the start of Covid.

We were in Argentina when Covid hit and had to get back to Canada quickly – a story that millions also experienced. As Argentina shut down its domestic transportation and then international flights, and imposed a mandatory quarantine, we found our way back to Buenos Aires (thankfully avoiding roadblocks), holed up in a hotel, discovered our flight had been cancelled, re-holed up, and tried to book a new flight home. We reached out to everyone we knew who might help. It was a high-stress time for us and everyone else too. But we learned once again that friends old and new are godsends. They want to help. All you have to do is ask. (Read more about our experience getting home.)

Not like when we were in Bangkok at the height of the SARS crisis in 2003. I developed a symptom that did not permit me to stray more than 10 feet from our hotel room toilet. I was afraid that if anyone found out I was sick (even though I had no SARS symptoms), we would be thrown out of our hotel. So I stayed put while Bill took the kids to see Bangkok’s sights. We didn’t ask anyone for help.

After a few days with no relief from my symptom, we had to board a 13-hour flight to Paris. I took enough Imodium to stop a horse, and it worked. But in Paris, my symptom returned. I finally saw a doctor who said it was the anti-malaria drugs I’d been taking. Not SARS! New prescriptions finally solved my problem. I should have seen a doctor earlier in Bangkok. 

Lesson: Ask for help when you need it.   

Sick knight

Apart from getting sick, we all enjoyed our knightly tour of Obidos.

The day before flying to Portugal’s island of Madeira, we and two friends enjoyed a guided tour of Obidos. A knight in shining armour led us around the cute little walled village with a castle at one end. He took us into places we’d never seen before, despite our many times visiting Obidos. (It’s close to where we live in Alcobaça.)

The next day, the four of us drove to the airport. Our friends Suzanne and Blair flew home to Canada while we flew to Madeira for a week’s exploration of this gorgeous volcanic island. That night, I woke up vomiting and was so sick for the next 12 hours I could barely leave the bathroom. I blamed the fish chowder I’d had for dinner.

But then Suzanne emailed saying they had both suffered similar symptoms. And then Bill got sick too. Our collective blame shifted to our knightly tour guide. He’d been mopping his brow and looking flushed. We had assumed his armour was hot, but in retrospect he probably had a fever.

Getting sick can really throw a wrench into travel plans. From that week-long Madeira trip, we lost a day when I was sick, and another when Bill succumbed to the knight fever. (Why couldn’t we have been sick together?)

For the most part, we’ve been healthy while travelling, but Bill got a sinus infection in Greece, and I’ve had several allergic reactions to peanuts – in the Galapagos and at Uluru in Australia. And we caught Covid while we were on a trip, forcing us to stay put for an extra week. We’ve learned to include “empty” days in our itineraries; if you don’t get sick, you can always sit in a café with a glass of wine.

Lessons: Don’t fight it – hole up until you feel better. Leave flex time in your itinerary for the unexpected. Stay away from feverish knights.

Leaky lemon of a camper van

We rented a leaky camper van to visit Kakadu National Park during The Wet – i.e. northern Australia’s rainy season.

The camper van we rented for five days in Darwin, Australia, turned out to be an absolute lemon. Every system failed. The lights and electricals didn’t work. The roof leaked. They forgot to give us the key to the water compartment, so we couldn’t fill the water tanks or use the sink, shower or toilet. The air conditioning not only didn’t work, but also the vents blasted heat at us – and it was about nine million degrees in the shade plus 200 percent humidity. Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but trust me, it was incredibly hot.

The rental company tried their best to fix it while we were in Kakadu National Park. The camper spent an afternoon at a service station, to no avail. The company said to save receipts from bottled water and they’d pay for it. And they said to think about what compensation we wanted.

When we returned the camper, I said we wanted two days rental fee refunded. They agreed so quickly I thought “Rats! I should have asked for more.”

Lessons: Check all systems when you pick up a rental vehicle. Make sure you have the water key. And learn how to bargain better.

The Rome Dash

Even Roman gods look askance at taking driving-time advice from an Italian.

We were staying in a village on the spur of Italy’s boot, Apulia – about 380 kilometres southeast of Rome, where we had a late afternoon flight. We asked our kind and helpful host how long that would take to drive.

“Oh, three-and-a-half or four hours,” Luigi said. (Note that very Italian name and understand that most Italians drive super fast.)

I added another hour since we had to return our rental car at the Rome airport, plus another hour for mishaps, and oh, another half-hour or so just because I like to get to airports early. So we left 6.5 hours ahead of when we wanted to be at Rome’s airport, which was two hours ahead of our within-EU flight.

“Do we need gas?” I asked Bill, as we got underway.

“Nah, we’re good,” he replied.

So, of course, we needed gas in the midst of a national park. In a country speckled with villages, there were none around us. No highway refuelling stations. Just a sea of green. I finally spied a few buildings off in the distance. Calculating the time and distance to the airport, I began panicking that we’d miss our flight.

As we approached the next exit, we realized we’d have to pay the toll, and we had just 15 euros left in cash. We fretted until the toll booth, when we realized we could use a credit card. Phew!

We drove the long and winding road until we finally reached a village. I tried my rudimentary Italian on an older gent sitting on a bench. Using sign language, he said “No gas station.”

I decided to ask at a hotel. I entered through a gate and found myself amidst a wedding party in the courtyard. I skirted the celebration, and went through a door, hoping to find reception, but then found myself in the kitchen, with busy people trying to serve the wedding feast! I backtracked and bumped (literally) into a biker dude in black leathers. I tried my Italian again and, bless him, he answered in English! Gave me directions to a gas station in another village. 

By this point, I knew for sure we’d miss our flight, so I calmed down. We followed Biker’s directions and finally spied the gas station. Closed! Our hopes tumbled even further. Bill pulled in anyhow and discovered that, even when the station is closed, you can pay at the pump. But it was cash only! Bill inserted our last 10-euro bill (leaving us with only 5 euros), pumped the gas and we were off once again.

We wound our way back to the toll road and Bill drove like an Italian, which is to say, like Mario Andretti. I consulted my watch.

“I think we can make our flight now!” So then I switched back into worry mode.

As we neared Rome, I watched for signs to the big ring road and consulted MapsMe. I instructed Bill to take the next exit onto the ring road. But, I realized too late that MapsMe had not told us to move from the central lanes into the collector lanes first. Our exit went sailing by and we were headed for central Rome. I pictured having to drive around the Coliseum and shuddered. I also knew then that we’d miss our flight, so calm was restored.

We took the next exit, got turned around, and found our way onto the ring road. Could we make our flight? Worry asserted itself again. We raced to the airport, returned the car, and ran to the Ryanair check-in desk. Security was blessedly light, and then we ran to our gate, arriving just in time to board our flight. Huffing and puffing, my emotional roller coaster slowed to a halt.

Lessons: Don’t do “The Rome Dash,” as we’ve come to call it. Stay somewhere close to the airport the night before a flight… even if the airport is “just four hours” away. Don’t trust Italians to give you normal driving times.

My biggest lesson from these and other mishaps and travel disasters is to shrug, laugh, and say, “It’s all part of the adventure!”

Next: Read about drugs, floods and blizzards, scammy border crossings, a lost boat motor, and our lost daughter in Part 2 of our travel disaster stories.

We’ve been accumulating travel disaster stories and learning lessons together since 1986. Find out where we are right now by visiting our ‘Where’s Kathryn?’ page.