Fresh off of last night’s baking disaster, I thought that I would share a disastrous travel story from days long past. I really wish that I had photos of my college travels through Europe, as there was always an adventure to be had. Alas, digital cameras weren’t invented yet, or at least they were not very common.
Living in Ireland as a student meant that we were a hop, skip, and a jump from continental Europe, and with Ryanair emerging as THE discount airline to fly we had no reason NOT to travel. For much of the semester, we cleaned a house that our landlord owned just to make extra money. We were determined to go everywhere.
One weekend, we found round trip tickets from Shannon to Frankfurt for around the equivalent of $50, and we booked them on the spot. Knowing nothing about Frankfurt except that we had never been there and that it was the birthplace of Goethe (Hey, I was an English major!), we set off for Frankfurt and our weekend home, Jugendgastehaus.
We spent our first night as any 20 year olds in Europe would, bar hopping, I remember in particular capirinhas at a Brazilian bar called Ipanema and singing Irish songs at an Irish bar called O’Reilly’s. It was an early night as we had traveled early in the morning and were exhausted, but it was not to be a restful night. Not long after I fell asleep, I was woken up by the piercing screams of my friend. In the dark, there was no telling what had happened. Our other hostel roommate, a much older woman, had sprung to action and turned on light. My friend was laying face down on the floor in a pool of blood. A deep sleeper and unfamiliar sleeping in a top bunk bed, she had rolled out and on to the floor, only waking up when her face collided with the hard wood!
Our strong and fast moving roommate, shouting in German, scooped my friend up, using the hostel towels to stop the bleeding from her nose. I got my first and only ride in a German ambulance that night and got the inside scoop on German healthcare. We spent most of the next day sleeping, my poor friend with two black eyes and a broken nose. Other than a few walks by the river and a few slices of cake in coffeehouses, we didn’t see much of Frankfurt, and now I want to go back!
So that’s one of my travel trials. There are many more to share!
How about you? What is your most disastrous travel story?
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Wow that’s a classic travel story! This summer I took a night train from Milan to Paris. There were four other people besides my husband and I in the couchette. One of them was a French woman who cried on the phone with her Italian lover for over an hour. Also, the air was broken, and it was August. I was ready to get off that train for sure.
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