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By scrolling through Instagram you could be forgiven for thinking that travel is all sunrises and sunsets. Perfect memories being created on an almost constant basis. For anyone that has experienced long-term travel, the reality can be far from that. It is almost inevitable that at one time or another something will go wrong. I was keen to hear for others to share their travel disaster stories. Here is part two of my Travel Disaster Stories collab post;
To read part 1, click here
The Cambodian Crash
Story by Adam @ www.roamingirishman.com
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It was one of those nights that, still to this day, makes no sense to me. It was my final night on Otres Beach, a quieter area of Sihanoukville, Cambodia. I had arrived there a few days earlier with the intention of chilling on the beach, no alcohol whatsoever and to relax before moving on to Vietnam. As good as my intentions were on arrival, the reality was much, much different.
From the first of my four nights, my time was spent between the beachside bar and my deck chair. Drinking all day, eating at the hostel and continuing on drinking until the early hours. It wasn’t partying as such, instead, a group of people chilling around the bar, having a laugh and drinking as much as they could.
On my final night, after the bar had closed, the barman and I decided to take the drive into Sihanoukville to catch the end of a football (soccer) game that was on. We hopped on the back of his scooter without a helmet in sight and drove into the town. We found the game to be showing at a small bar he knew that was run by an older English gentleman. The night was spent drinking our $1 beers and playing pool. I even avoided getting in a fight with an English guy, who took serious issue with me being Irish and watching the game, until the bar decided to close not long before sunrise.
In our very drunken state, we got back on the scooter and made our way back to Otres. Speeding down the back roads, avoiding the stray cows and dogs that filled the streets. We were determined to reach the bar before the morning staff arrived. To this day, I don’t know why. After all, I was with the barman who surely could have got us free beer and if not, $1 is not exactly a high price to fork out. Nevertheless, in our drunken minds, we had to get there first.
The hostel came into sight, the gates still open and us at full speed. I should have foreseen what was going to happen next. Our journey came to an abrupt end as we crashed into the bar we were so desperate to reach. We somehow ended up underneath the bike and a giant flowerpot that I never even knew was there. Thankfully, the bar was largely undamaged. I was left with a bad cut on my foot but nothing lasting. The barman fell asleep on the beach shortly after and I never spoke to him again. I do know he was left with no lasting effects though. The bike, I am sure met a different fate but that was the least of my worries if I am honest. Thank god there were no cameras.
We did get our free beer but that certainly didn’t make up for the pain I was in for the next few days. I made my way to Kampot shortly after, leaving the drunken world of Otres beach behind. It was a lucky escape given the cuts and bruises you see so many with when travelling in South East Asia. It also made me realise how stupid I was to get on the back of a bike, drunk and with no helmet. Never again!
Stranded in Germany
Story by Rachel @ thehistorictraveller.wordpress.com
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My best friend and I were on a pre-graduation trip around Europe. We awoke in Prague ready for the longest day of our trip. We were facing a 10-hour journey (in 30°C heat!) to Brussels. The day started off quite smoothly as we hauled our rucksacks onto our back and walked towards the metro. Stumbling off the carriage we sat around Prague’s train station – well I did. My friend ran to the Sephora whilst I guarded the bags. With about 15 minutes until we were meant to leave, we suddenly realised that we were nowhere near the bus zone. So, there we were, two English girls looking like turtles with oversized bags on our back running through Prague’s station. After following numerous signs with a picture of a bus on it, we finally walked through a pair of wooden doors and found our bus. This was just the start.
After a smooth journey to Nuremberg, we hopped off the bus and had around an hour to kill in the train station. This time we were definitely getting a train. Our only issue was which train we were meant to be on… What our ticket said, and what the departures board said were two completely different things (and we get easily confused). The train information desk wasn’t much help to us, so we winged it. We went to the platform and waited for a train to roll in – this one said the same as our tickets so on we got. Although, we had no seat reservations, and this was a 3-hour train! We found two relatively close to each other and settled in for a long ride.
I wish we spoke German. I really do. The train conductor told everyone that there was a train delay, but sadly we were completely unaware. It wasn’t until my friend asked the guy next to her that we realised what was going on. ‘Rach… I don’t think we’re going to make the connection’. This was not what I wanted to hear. We made the decision to get off a stop early at the main Frankfurt station since we thought we’d have more options of what to do here.
We went to the help desk, and the delightful woman at the other side of the counter offered us 5 trains connections for €135 – money we definitely didn’t have. For a moment, we thought we were stranded in Germany for the night. Someone told us about Flix Bus, so we ran outside to find their office and book ourselves on the next bus to Brussels at 10:30pm… the people at the desk were incredibly friendly and useful and for €18 we were happy to take it. We just wanted to get there.
This did mean we had 3 hours to kill in a train station that was closing everything for the night. I tried to call the hostel to let them know we would be 7 hours later than expected, but it was their world cup semi-final, and nobody wanted to answer the phone! The heavens opened as we waited at the outside bus stop. Three buses came at once and it was absolute mayhem. I jumped ahead, got my bag on the bus and jumped on, yelling and pointing at my friend so the driver knew we were together. I got us the last seats together and settled in for a very, very long night.
Watching the sun rise over Brussels made this 20-hour long journey slightly better. Seeing the buildings silhouetted against a streaky pink sky was beautiful. However, walking through Brussels at 6am was not the one. We got to the hostel at 6:30am to which we were told we couldn’t check in. I made sure he knew we have a bed waiting for us; ones we crashed straight onto and immediately fell asleep.
That day was certainly an experience, a disaster I am glad I didn’t have to face alone.
Fire in The Hold and an Emergency Landing at London Luton Airport
Story by Alina @ worldoflina.com
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It all happened in February this year when I was on my way back to Austria from Los Angeles. I had a layover in London Heathrow and when I was on the plane to Vienna, I fell asleep immediately because I was so exhausted. I didn’t even notice when the plane took off. After about 30 minutes in the sky, I woke up and looked out of the window. That was the time when I noticed how close to the ground we were and wondered if we’re landing already. However, when I looked at my watch, we’ve only been in the sky for around 30 minutes.
I started to feel very uncomfortable and only 5 minutes later, the pilot told everyone that we need to land at London Luton Airport due to an emergency on board. I wouldn’t say everyone started to panic, but you could feel tension and anxiety in the air. When we finally landed at London Luton, we were welcomed by four fire engines. The flight attendants told us we need to leave everything on board and we are not allowed to bring our carry-on bags with us. As soon as the doors were open, everyone left the plane as quick as possible and full of fear. Buses brought us to a waiting area at the airport and we were told that there was a fire in the hold but our suitcases could be saved. After waiting more than four hours in the middle of the night, a new plane arrived and we continued our journey back home to Vienna.
Fortunately, we got all our bags but it was such an exhausting and very long journey. I’m pretty sure I will never forget this unpleasant incident but I’m very glad nothing worse happened and we were all brought home safely!
A Fifty-Fifty Chance
Story by August Wheeler from www.outsidenomad.com
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While wandering the streets of the Czech Republic it became apparent that I needed a bathroom quickly. I promptly found a pub, put in an order for a beer, and then briskly made my way to the bathroom.
As I approached the two bathroom doors I was presented with two different symbols, neither of which clearly indicated the men’s room that I was looking for. I looked at them again but still couldn’t make sense of them.
Time was running out, I needed a bathroom now.
I approached my chosen door, gave a quick listen, and then slowly opened the door. Ahead of me were two stalls, a sink to the left and what appeared to be more bathroom space around the corner. I thought to myself, the urinals must be around the corner, I think I chose well. I took a few steps forward and grabbed the closest stall with not a minute to spare. Happy that I didn’t crap myself I began to relax and was now looking forward to my beer that was waiting for me.
Just as I was finishing up I heard the bathroom door open. No big deal right? Except for the fact that it was a couple of women chatting it up. I thought to myself, you’ve got to be kidding. I could tell that one of the women checked my stall but moved next door when she realized my stall was locked. She then came right back out of the other stall that she entered. I thought to myself, well that’s strange.
They proceeded to just hang out talking in the bathroom. A couple of minutes go by and then eventually they knocked on my stall. I was petrified, I had no idea what to do. My cover would most certainly be blown if I were to speak. So I sat dead still and said nothing.
Again knock, knock, knock….
Well, I guess I’m busted, so in my deepest most manly voice I said, “just a minute.” The girls gasped and ran out of the bathroom. The good news is they are gone. The bad news is I still have to walk out of this place. I finish up,
wash my hands and on the way out I notice what looks like some out of order sign inside the other stall.
As I walk around the corner and enter the bar area, conversation stops and all eyes are on me. There’s not a single person in this bar that does not know what just happened. Most people have a slight grin or are just downright laughing.
I sheepishly walk to the bar, pay for my beer, have a few enormous sips and then I got the heck out.
Pulling the Plug
Story by www.cupcakesandcampfires.com
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We were visiting Sucre in Bolivia, where we had ended up on a whim on our visit to South America. It’s a fantastic place to visit, but getting a visa is quite a process and the oversight of authority can be felt. One of the main attractions in Sucre is Parque Cretaio – the recently revealed 1200m long wall of dinosaur footprints. To get to there we needed to catch a designated bus from the central square – Plaza 25 de Mayo. This seemed a benign enough situation.
There was an event going on in the plaza which had the stage and decorations right next to where the bus was parked. There was a bit of traffic around and so walking to the bus was a bit awkward and congested. As we walked to the bus “one of us” tripped on a cord that was on the ground. This cord was attached to the inflation pump of a large inflatable figure. Unfortunately, that trip pulled the plug literally… and the figure collapsed slowly but dramatically onto the stage area. The band/rock group had to stop playing and it also caused all sorts of commotion on and around the stage.
The “one of us” that had tripped meekly continued onto the bus to nervously await the outcome of what had happened. Luckily nothing transpired and the event went on. It was, however, a case of ‘too close for comfort’ – the inflatable figure was a policeman, and the event was hosted by and for the Bolivian Police
To read Part 1 of my Travel Disaster Stories, click here
We want to go to London one day SO badly!! The food and scenery and just everything looks amazing🤩 We hope you both and everyone else seeing this has an amazing week ahead! Remember to stay positive