6 terribly unpleasant travel moments

6 terribly unpleasant travel moments

We all realize that traveling is about exploring the world, meeting amazing people and finding yourself. The internet is littered with blog posts about life-changing and eye-opening moments. However, it's not all encouraging stories and romantic anecdotes.

I've been on the backpacker block and had some excruciatingly unpleasant travel moments; the kind of experiences that are so frightening that you just don't know where to look or what to say. Here is my list of the top 6.

(Too) close and personal

It was a scorching hot day in Arusha, as it is most days in East Africa. I was on my way to Moshi. Public buses in Tanzania can be quite depressing, so I was happy when I got on early and had free choice of seats. I chose carefully and chose a window seat at the very back on the left.

It didn't take long for the bus to fill up and a rather, how shall I put it, "heavy" woman with her baby soon took the seat next to me. As we departed and began collecting passengers, I was encouraged to mingle so another person could join our line. I, in the spirit of things, happily obliged. By now the bus was full and it was getting more stuffy by the second. Pretty soon the baby started crying.

The child was clearly hungry and so of course the mother took care of it. I like to think of myself as a man of the world, but I admit that I was surprised by her openness: her voluptuous breasts were not only visible, but rested unabashedly on my right arm!

Crammed in like sardines, I could barely move and as a Brit and the only white person on the bus I didn't have the guts to say "sorry" so I left my arm where it was. No one else batted an eyelid as I sat there, glowing bright red, with this woman's naked breast resting on my arm. For one hour.

Serenade...bad...repeated...

The meal had been delicious: a three-course treat in one of the Caribbean's most elegant restaurants. The exquisite dessert had arrived and we began to indulge happily. We were the only guests there. Very intimate, very romantic and very peaceful.

A staff member came in with a guitar. And another clap. They were standing right in front of us. The guitar was out of tune, his voice cracked at the end of each note, and her clapping was sporadic and out of sync. They stood about a foot in front of the table so they literally couldn't see anywhere but look at her. We alternated between polite smiles and offended disbelief at our desserts. Romantic moment: ruined. Finally it ends. I don't even know what it was, but it was bad. At least it was over.

That is, until the next night. We were there for a total of six nights and endured five torturous dinners. We changed the time we ate our meals to try to give them the slip. Didn't work - they still showed up, sometimes with a third member of staff adding "backing vocals". How such an otherwise posh resort got it so wrong we will never know.

On our last evening we noticed another couple had decided to eat on the beach. At first we were jealous until we heard how the “band” sings just for her. We smiled smugly and enjoyed our meal in peace.

Witness a secret Finnish wedding

We were really looking forward to that. Kia and I had booked a room in a hotel in central Helsinki for a long weekend in the middle of winter. Before we left the UK we received an email from the owners asking if we would be willing to witness a secret wedding at the hotel. We readily agreed and speculated about who the mysterious bride and groom might be. “Maybe they are celebrities” or “maybe they are running away from their families and eloping.”

We were given a room number and a time to be at the door. We got home early from a morning of sightseeing and tried to dress as smartly as possible from the carry-on luggage we had. We excitedly arrived at the room and knocked, giggling as we waited in anticipation. The door opened and we were let in.

There were four people in the room: the officer, a photographer and the casually dressed couple. They weren't celebrities, but that's all we know for sure. They weren't exactly what you'd call sociable.

“Are you from Helsinki?” I asked. “Yes,” came the taciturn answer. “It’s very special to have a secret wedding.” "Yes." “We feel very special to be invited as the only two witnesses,” ventured Kia. This time she nodded. Hm.

We turned to the officer and waited awkwardly as she continued in Finnish. The photographer darted around the room, awkwardly taking photos of us. Finally everyone turned and looked at us. It was obviously the right time for us to sign something, so we signed something. More photos of the unpleasant scene.

“Perhaps you could send us some photos?” I asked. An awkward smile. "Well, congratulations. We hope you're very happy together." Nod twice this time. “Well then, let’s go, shall we?” “Goodbye,” came the reply. "Okay, uh, thanks and, uh, yeah, goodbye."

Being “asked” to convert to Islam

“Abdullah,” the driver said, turning to Kia. "That's a Muslim name. You're Muslim?" “Yes, my parents are from Bangladesh.” “But you,” turning to me, “aren’t you, are you?” “No, no I’m not, I’m afraid.” Was I? Was I scared? "What are you? Christian?" It's probably best to just say yes, Pete, I thought. I'm not sure I have the diplomacy to get into a debate about spiritualism, humanism, agnosticism, or worse, atheism. I'm in Jordan - it's probably best to play it safe. "Yes, I'm Christian," I told him. “And are you two married?” he continued. “No, we are not married,” “You will convert before you get married, right?”

I giggled, rolling my head back and meeting his gaze in the mirror. He didn't giggle. “Oh, yeah, I suppose I could convert,” I stuttered more seriously. “Well, if you want to get married, you have to convert.” A statement – ​​no question. "Well, um, we're not sure if we, um…" I started to fidget and blushed as I looked into his eyes again. “Yeah, I guess I better convert.” I smiled weakly.

After a few more awkward exchanges, his attention turned to Kia. He then had her recite an Arabic prayer, and although I sympathized, I was glad he was no longer focused on me.

Avoiding an overzealous tour guide

I love museums. I like to take time to explore the artifacts and read the posters that accompany them. Note the language I use here: taking my time.

I was looking forward to the National Museum in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I knew very little about the country's history, so this would be the perfect introduction. We had organized the visit as part of a tour, which I wouldn't normally do, but it was cheap and included a lot. Our guide (I won't name and shame him) was more than a little... enthusiastic.

We arrived at the museum and I looked at the first hall. It was full of statues that predated the history I was interested in. Further back, in the next hall, was more of my stuff: swords, big ships, warriors with bows and arrows – boy stuff. I set off in that direction.

Unfortunately, our guide had other ideas. He called me back and waved me to the first statue. Okay, I thought, let's not be rude. Let's see what he has to say. About 20 minutes later we had covered the first two statues and I was quickly losing patience. Kia felt better: she nodded gracefully while trying to move him along.

“And what about this one?” She would ask, pointing to one a few statues away, hoping to skip a section. Nice try, but it wouldn't work with this guy.

After an hour and a half in the same hall, I just couldn't take it anymore and marched off towards the guns and cannons. Somehow, with more tact than I could ever muster, Kia managed to shake him off after about the twentieth statue and join me, stressed and exhausted.

Later in the day we continued to the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, the former S-21 prison and the site of some of Cambodia's darkest moments. “We can’t have him with us all the time,” I told Kia.

“No, I can’t bear that again – not here.”

Kia boldly told him that we preferred to walk the grounds alone and promised to meet him when we were done. As I watched her gently put him down, I'm pretty sure I saw the moment his heart broke and he considered quitting his job forever.

A request too far

It was a particularly hot day that summer of 2012. We were on assignment at a high-end hotel and I was tasked with taking photos to accompany Kia's article. In general, I offer to share my photographs with the host hotel so that they can use them for their own purposes. Occasionally they will request a specific shot (e.g. a shot of the deluxe suite, gardens, or dining area). Sometimes – well, this one time – the host asked for a little “extra”…

“We could use a photo of the new showers we just installed,” the resort manager said. “Okay, no problem,” I replied. “I’ll get something after we check out and the room is cleaned?” "Well, it would be great if we could get someone in there." I was a little confused. "Um, well, I don't really work with models, so we'll have a hard time getting a good shot, I'm afraid." "Oh, no, that's fine. We'll just use people you're comfortable with." She pointed at Kia. "And we'll get Leo to join her." She pointed to one of the employees, a tanned waiter in his 20s.

My eyes widened. Did she ask me to photograph my own girlfriend... in the shower... with another man? "Um, I don't think Kia would be comfortable modeling." "Oh, we don't need to see her face; just her silhouette." "Uh..." she continued, "And it would be good to get them both on the massage table." I blushed. How could she not see that this was unprofessional and inappropriate? “Well, I’ll leave it to you to choreograph everything,” she said airily, strolling away. I stood there dumbfounded. Did that just happen? I spent the rest of the drive trying to avoid her. When she finally held me, she asked me about the recordings. “I have a mix,” I said vaguely. “I can’t wait to see her!” I smiled and backed away...very, very slowly.

Mission statement: Atlas & Boots

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