Travel: Rolling the dice

HALLIE EPHRON: When you travel, sometimes you luck out, and sometimes you roll snake eyes.

Two weeks ago a blizzard was forecast for the northeast. I was supposed to meet my editor and publicity team at HarperCollins the next morning and I was determined to be there.

Just before the storm hit, at 7 AM I drove to the Amtrak station just outside of Boston and boarded a train to New York. It started snowing in Rhode Island. Then whiteout. By the time we got to Queens you could not see the surrounding streets, never mind the Manhattan skyline.

But we arrived... only ten minutes behind schedule. I boarded a subway to Brooklyn (the A-train arrived as I was climbing onto the platform). Emerged in Brooklyn and slogged a block in well-trodden snow to my daughters' apartment. Spent the day playing with my grandchildren! Next morning, took the subway to my meeting, feeling as if I'd slipped through a crack in the space-time continuum and singing the praises of mass transit.

On the way back the next day I boarded an Amtrak train that had arrived an hour late to Penn Station. By the time it approached Boston it was creeping along at about 10 miles an hour and the PA system had died and many of the doors were frozen shut. I hoofed it through two cars to find a working the exit. But I got there.

MEANWHILE, THAT SAME DAY My friend Barbara Fournier tried to get to Boston from... Casablanca:

I had just flown from Casablanca into JFK airport to find my flight, and all others to Boston, cancelled. I went online and managed to buy the last seat on a 10:30 pm Greyhound bus to Boston! I grabbed the shuttle to the Port Authority, slogging through snow and ice. I printed out my ticket and headed for the dock when a representative announced that all buses to Boston had been cancelled three hours ago!!

But I just bought the ticket!" I whined. He shrugged.

I then checked the Amtrak train schedule and grabbed a ticket for the 2:30 am train. I cabbed it to Penn station and paced anxiously in the jammed waiting room. We left on time!!! I found a seat and dozed off as the train left the station. 

But in a few minutes I was jolted awake by the train stopping. The lights went out except for some dim back ups. The heat was off. The train was dead. We were not fifteen minutes out of the station, in the Bronx. We were getting colder by the minute. The toilets began to overflow. The first announcement informed us that the electrical system was down; an hour later it was announced that 'they' were working on it.

Four hours later, finally the train started. We limped into the next station ( New Rochelle). We were directed to leave the train immediately. We can leave our luggage on board, we were assured. The next train is right behind us. We piled onto the platform. It was ten degrees and the wind was howling. The doors shut and slowly the train pulled out of the station. People who left their luggage on board were yelling.

Three trains stopped but didn't open their doors, despite our pounding. Finally a train stopped for us - but it was already full. Many of us stood for the remaining four hours to Boston. But we were warm! We could go to the bathroom!  We were going home!

So it took me six hours to go from Morocco to the US but eighteen hours to go from New York to Boston. What a world!"

What are your good-luck/back-luck travel stories?
(Photo credit Matt Donnelly Lake Shore Limited Boston-DC)

RHYS BOWEN: My worst bad luck travel experience was when we were in Kashmir and wanted to go to Ladakh, in those days a forbidden kingdom high in the Himalayas.

We started in a jeep at four in the morning. Drove up a steep mountain pass with streams gushing across the road and a three thousand foot drop on one side. The pass was 15,000 feet high. Bitterly cold. Then for hours through a high bleak valley. At four in the afternoon we came upon a place where the road had been washed away for fifteen miles. No way around.

We had to turn around and drive back for twelve hours mostly in the dark, with a driver who thought he could save gas by shutting off the engine when going downhill. I had to sit with my hand poised above the keys to knock his hand away!

A good luck experience was when we wanted to visit Yellowstone. We spent the night in Cody where it was snowing and all the signs said the park entrance was closed. John, being stubborn, said we would drive up there, just in case. We drove up and they had opened the gate ten minutes before! We were one of the only cars we saw all day.

INGRID THOFT: A few years ago, my husband, mom, and I traveled to Vietnam.  We're an adventurous threesome, and it was a destination that interested us.  It was a fascinating and amazing trip in many ways, but it also included one of my worst travel experiences. 

As we drove away from our hotel in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon,) we did a passport check only to realize that my mom's passport was missing.  We had a guide and driver for the day (we were supposed to be traveling to the Mekong Delta,) so we returned to the hotel. 

A lengthy search ensued, but the passport could not be found.  First, we went to the local police station to report the missing passport.  Next, we went to the American consulate where they very efficiently issued her a temporary passport.  Phew!  Except we then had to go to the Vietnamese immigration office to get a new visa. 

The next eight hours were filled with chaos, anxiety, and bribes.  Many, many bribes.  At one point, I went out to the car to get more money from my husband, only to hear that he and the driver had been involved in a car chase.  And you know what?  I didn't really care, that's how fraught the situation was in the immigration office! 

Finally, with a lot of cash and the help of our guide, we got the required visa and set off for the Mekong Delta.  A couple of days later the hotel in Saigon contacted us to say they had found the passport in her mini-bar.  Maybe it would have ended up there after our fiasco, but not before.  We suspect the front desk staff misplaced it during check-in and eventually discovered it amongst their paperwork. 

As for good travel stories, every time my plane lands safely, I consider that a successful trip!  Most travel aggravations can be overcome, but not if you don't finish it in one piece!

JENN MCKINLAY: My Mom and I decided to indulge in a trip to Florence (Ah, Firenze) Italy for my fortieth birthday. I left the Hub and Hooligans behind in the frat house for a week of visiting museums, historic sites, and Tuscan vineyards.

It was a wonderful trip. Amazing food, beautiful city, lovely people, lots of laughs, and more gelato than I could ever eat, although I did my best. The only blip in the trip was when Mom got into it with a transportation officer on a city bus and the next thing I knew we were getting hauled off the bus and charged seventy-five euros. Mom hadn't punched her ticket right away and when she remembered and went to do it, the transportation guy nabbed her. Not very sporting of him since she was trying to do the right thing but we were already under way so he felt he had a case. Mom, being feisty, refused to listen to the man, and started calling for "La Polizia!" (I kid you not), meanwhile the other woman who got snagged with us made her escape.

I was too busy laughing at the insanity and taking pictures of the cute police officers, they had white hats just like the British bobbies, who smiled and nodded and told us with a shrug that we had to pay. Mom was miffed but once we caught the bus to our vineyard tour at a castle and had some wine, she settled down.

Still one of my favorite memories. Mom has spunk!

LUCY BURDETTE: Our scariest travel moments involved driving to ski houses in Vermont back in the 1990's. If you rented a house with another couple for a weekend, by God you were going to get there no matter what it took.

I wouldn't have minded staying home if the forecast was for black ice or a blizzard while traveling. Especially with two squabbling children in the backseat! At one point I was reduced to a quivering blob moaning "motel, motel." John honestly could not see the road more than 100 yards in front of him.

I finally prevailed and we got the last room in a crummy dive and we were oh so glad to be there. I consider it sheer dumb luck that we survived all those weekends--and that our fledgling marriage survived too!

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Yes, good luck is when it all turns out fine and everyone is safe. My plane to Atlanta Friday was FIVE HOURS delayed, and there's nothing like the crazed and frantic atmosphere of a planeload of travelers trying to to figure out how to get somewhere. It was doomed. It was presidents day weekend and school vacation week, and seriously, there was not one seat. It all turned out fine, I arrived five hours late, but my event was the next day, so all fine.

But once on a trip to Indianapolis, I smelled a funny smell. you know how when some thoughtless person brings Chinese food on a plane? That's what I thought it was.

Finally, though, it was clear it wasn't. I went to the flight attendant and said, you know, there's a funny smell. (I mean, you have to understand the level of terror I had to mention it..) And she looked at me like I was really annoying, and said this plot has twenty years of experience, I'm sure it's fine. So I shrugged, and tried (and failed) to believe her 

And truly, the smell  grew to be incredibly pungent..I had my scarf over my nose. The flight attendant saw me, and said: the smell is less in the back, want to change seats? And I did. 

As the Indianapolis airport came into view, and we were almost landing, the flight attendants came on the PA. 'BRACE BRACE BRACE"  they yelled. "Heads down, heads down! Brace brace brace!" I peeked out the window.MANY Fire trucks. SILENCE on the plane, except for the commanding flight attendants. We landed. We taxied way to the end of the runway. The pilot came out, and said they that before we deplaned, they had to make sure the plane was not going to catch on fire.

Turns out, the electrical system had shorted out, and been burning, and just before we landed, the ENTIRE electrical system went down.

Forgive me for how long this is, but I had the same pilot on the flight back. I said to him--wow, that was scary yesterday.

And he said yeah, in my twenty years of flying, nothing like that had ever happened. He said--the cockpit was filled with smoke. We put on our masks, and landed.

Oh! PS. He also said "When I first smelled it, I thought someone had brought on Chinese food."

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I made my book signing yesterday in Phoenix by the skin of my teeth! Flying early yesterday morning from Portland, big mess at PBX with a flight very delayed from Chicago and all the American agents scrambling to get people sorted who had missed planes, which delayed my flight, too. But so far, that's the closest call for book tour.

I have a fun travel story. A few years ago, my daughter and I were flying to London. She had booked us for afternoon tea at Gordon Ramsay Claridge's for that afternoon. Even reserving months ahead, that had been the only available date.

So we arrive at Gatwick at 7 in the morning. We get through customs and my bag comes in. Then we wait, and wait, and wait. No bag for Kayti. We finally realize it is not on the plane and fill out the necessary paperwork. Kayti is in sweats and we are panicked about our tea reservation.

So we go shopping in Gatwick and find her a dress at Monsoon, and then some shoes. By this time it's noon and we have to be at Claridge's at two. No time to go to the flat to change and freshen up. I said don't worry, we can change in the Ladies at the hotel. Really? Kayti asks. It's Claridge's, I say. Of course we can.

So we did, and our tea was fabulous, one of our most memorable experiences. Kayti's bag arrived the next morning...

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: My scary experience? A "free" week-long vacation in Manzanillo that my father-in-law got us when he sat through a time share offer. (He used the same technique to acquire a weekend in the Bahamas for us later.) We were young, adventurous and child-free, so we jumped at it.

First off, we booked a cheap flight (not included) saving money by arriving in the middle of the night. There was a driver from the time share company waiting for us, who ushered us into the back seat and began to drive. And drive. And drive. He didn't speak English, and we didn't speak Spanish. We went for what seemed like hours, seeing nothing but impenetrable jungle in the narrow headlight beams. Ross was convinced we had fallen into the hands of kidnappers.

When we finally arrived at the Barefoot Hotel, we were pleased with the spacious accommodations - but the only part of the hotel that seemed lit was our room and the antechamber leading to it. The only sound we could hear was the beating of the Pacific waves. No voices. No muzak. No greeting. Ross told me to bar the door and not open it for anyone, then went to see what he could find out.

Turns out, we were the ONLY guests in the hotel, which was otherwise closed for renovations. Only we never saw any work going on. There was one maid - from the village? - who cleaned our room. We never saw her. The only other person around was Ramon, a sixty-something who spent his days trying unsuccessfully to clear the pool of leaves and who kept a cooler full of ice and beer for Ross, whom he called "Patron." I felt like we had fallen into a Winston Graham novel.

It was a relaxing and eerie experience, made more so by the fact that I can't find any reference to a "Barefoot Hotel" in Manzanillo...

HALLIE: So please, were any of you out and about in a blizzard or trying to get somewhere in California's epic rains? Share the good, bad and the ugly.

You Can't Go Back Again

RHYS BOWEN: I have just returned from a wonderful trip that took me to Turkey, Egypt and Greece. Turkey and Egypt were new to me, places I had long dreamed of visiting.  Istanbul seemed to me a delightful city with a grand bazaar right out of the thousand and one nights (too bad that it has now erupted in rioting and unrest). Egypt was a sad and sorry place, one that the tourists now shun increasing the poverty and desperation there. Piles of garbage line the streets, half built buildings everywhere, no traffic rules, no jobs and presumably ripe for Islamic extremists.

But Greece was another matter. I was visiting it for the first time in 50 years. Fresh out of high school, naïve and idealistic, I had spent three months wandering around Greece with my friend Ruth. We took local buses, rusty ferries and slept in private houses or tiny hotels. Two girls alone in a land where they kept their women firmly at home. When we ate in cafes we were always the only females. We got used to men propositioning us and old women inquiring why we weren’t married yet. I don’t know why I had resisted going back for so long. Perhaps because I had been told that it had changed so much and become so commercial that I would be disappointed.
So it was with apprehension that I watched Mykonos as our ship steamed into the port. But there were no giant Sheratons or Hiltons to be seen. The town looked as it always had—small gleaming white buildings, blue water in the tiny harbor. True there were many more stores and more cafes but it was still enchanting. We had spent two weeks there on my previous trip, buying warm bread and cheeses and grapes before catching the rickety bus to a deserted beach on the far side of the island. No deserted beaches these days—our beach is lined with umbrellas and chairs.
I was even more worried about seeing Athens again. I had heard it was dirty, smog ridden and the Greeks were always having dangerous protests against austeries. But it was still magical with the Acropolis sparkling in sunshine and the evzones parading outside parliament with their “ministry of silly walks” and pom poms on their toes.  And the Greeks were still charming, friendly and laid-back. Everyone wanted to chat, to ask where we had come from, how we liked it there and interested that I had been to Greece so long ago. True the main square was shut for a demonstration once, and we saw a parade of far right black shirts that was scary, but I would go back again in a heartbeat.
So I’m wondering, fellow Reds, have you ever dared to return to a place of your youth? Were you disappointed?

HALLIE EPHRON: A few years ago we went back to Venice - and I felt just that apprehension since it had seemed like such a magical place when we were there on our honeymoon inn 1969. We were not disappointed. This time we steered clear of the Piazza St. Marco which has become ridiculously crowded. The shopping is still extraordinary, the city a work of art, the food fabulous, and there was even a Vaporetto strike like there was the last time we were there.


RHYS: Hallie, I also went back to Venice for the first time since my childhood and found it as entrancing as ever! One of my favorite places.


HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: My mother used to say "Never return to the scene of a former glory." I suppose that was her way of preventing us from trying to recapture something wonderful--that the memory and the experience of a thing is singular--and that new is better. However, my 89-year-old father and his dear wife have just departed for Paris. For the millionth time. They're off to have a birthday dinner for Juliet at the same restaurant where they celebrated 10 years ago, Les Bookinistes. Dad said, when I called him to say bon voyage, "Paris is always wonderful."
I'm trying to figure out what we can learn from this.

LUCY BURDETTE: Hooray for your father, Hank, that's amazing. This is timely because my husband and I are going to the Provence area of France in October. I spent a semester there during my junior year of college. It wasn't a happy time because I was terribly homesick, and my roommate and I were living in cramped quarters with a family who wasn't very hospitable. (counting toilet paper and showers, just for example.)

But we did meet another family who whisked us around the gorgeous countryside every Sunday--Les Baux, La Camargue, Aigues-Mortes, and lots more. John's never been to this area of the country and I'm truly looking forward to going back. I can't imagine being disappointed....

ROSEMARY HARRIS: My husband and I love to go to new places so I suppose we only return to those places we know we still love. Recently that meant Florence, Rome...and Gettysburg, PA.

I'm more likely to have the "you can't go back" experience with books or movies. The first that leaps to mind is The Adams Chronicles. I remembered loving it and in 2013 it was pretty tough going..

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I've never been disappointed in London or Paris. It's been years since I've been to Italy or the south of France, however, so I do wonder if those places would hold up to the memories. I adored Germany on a book signing tour a couple of years ago, much more so than on brief trips in the late 70s.

I was talking to a friend the other night who had spent much time in Mexico City on business, and wondering how I would feel now about Mexico City and Guadalajara, cities where I spent much time from childhood into my twenties, and loved.

And then there's Edinburgh... It's been more than thirty years now since I lived there. I made a very brief visit when my daughter was six, and have passed through Waverley Station a few times on the way to the Highlands. Would I still love it as much as I did then? Now, if I could just think of reason to get my detectives there, I go visit as a research trip...

RHYS: So, dear friends, have you ever gone back to a place that was special for you? Were you disappointed or glad that you did?