a favorite trip memory?

If I had to pick only one, it would be being with my wife who has a fear of heights climb to the top of Waynapicchu at Machu Picchu. It took some coaxing all the way up, but she did it.

It was no more than a minute interaction, but it resulted in a gut bursting laugh and smile....and 6 years later, it still tickles my fancy.
I had 3 days in Istanbul after a month safari in Tanzania and Uganda. I was tired and didn't want to deal with people - particularly touts and carpet sellers. I was striding off to some museum or other in the early morning, mirrored sunglasses on to avoid eye contact, but I wasn't blending in as few local women wore clothing more appropriate for dust, jeeps and bird watching. A determined fellow started to walk beside....'Madam, you walk like a tourist...may I show you my carpets'? It was the least expected opening line I have come across, and before he had finished it, I was laughing out loud.
It didn't humour me enough to go see his carpets, however.

For me it was in Venice. After arriving by bus, we walked through the narrow streets and lanes. After what seemed like forever, we emerged on St. Mark’s Square in all it’s glory. It was huge and magnificent. This was in 1977 so it wasn’t as crowded except with pigeons. I didn’t know where to look first. Every time we visit Venice, I still get that feeling when we emerge onto the square.

On an after dinner stroll through Orta San Giulio I was approached by an Italian grandmother with a great big smile on her face. I think she said I was cute (but my Italian isn't very good), and then she pinched me on the cheek.

The kindness of a stranger.

On my first European trip my then boyfriend and I boarded the Munich metro rail system. It was 1972 and 2 months before the Olympics. We were looking to find the famous Hofbrau House. Had to no clue how to get there. Asked one person who spoke only German. Somewhat helpful but an elderly woman who overheard the 3 of us, tapped me on the shoulder and said ” zwei “. More lack of English communication and in 2 stops she motions us to follow her. We did and she walked us a few blocks to the Hofbrau House, pointed, smiled and left us.

I was surprised by the kindness.

It was 1977 and I arrived in Barcelona with 3 other people I'd met on the train. It was dark and when we came out of the station, an older gentleman offered to take us to a place to stay with a relative. This sounds really hinky now, but it was a common practice back then.

I was the only person who knew any Spanish. When we arrived and saw that it was an okay place to stay, I thanked him and gave him a small tip.

It seemed like no time before he was back at the door asking for us. It turned out that he had used the tip to play the lottery and won a substantial sum. He wanted to take us to dinner.

We all went and had a great meal and a great time in spite of my poor Spanish.

So many great memories to choose from!! My wife and I were in London May 2003. We waited in line at Parliament to see a session of the House of Commons. We waited for a half hour or so before we got in. We got to our seats in the gallery and who comes out to debate the Iraq war with the MPs? None other than Prime Minister Tony Blair.. We got to see him get grilled on why UK entered the war and all of the jeering back and forth. We were no more than 10 feet away from the Prime Minister. Very cool!!

I'm cheating and reposting this from a post I made a few months ago:

There is so much to see in Venice, but the greatest joy was following the Rick Steves advice that you will get lost, so just embrace it. I’m quite anal about directions and when planning a trip, it’s important to me to know in advance how I’m going to get from point A to point B, but Venice doesn’t cooperate. We got to our hotel at about noon and immediately set off exploring and managed to get to St Mark’s square and back fairly easily. Later on that day we had a late dinner which was about a 10 minute walk from our hotel, but it had gotten dark and foggy while we were eating and the walk back took about 30 minutes. As it turns out, we had walked right past our hotel twice and never even realized it. I though I’d mastered Venice after our 5 day visit, but the morning we were leaving, we took one last walk around and we ended up in a piazza west of our hotel when I could have sworn we were still east of the hotel. Venice wins again.

Having the Gap of Dunloe to myself on a November day a decade ago. Hiked half of it then returned to the closed Kate’s Cottage to retrieve my vehicle and drove over the entire length. The solitude and the beauty filled my soul. My favorite day of travel ever!

Thanks John for this positive thread. I'd say our favorite memory was locating my husband's ancestral home in Venice. Our daughter surprised us with family history just 2 weeks before our trip. We were blown away that it was 5 min. from our Hotel near St. Mark's and also was across the canal from the Peggy Guggenheim Collection. Prior to this knowledge friends had recommended "the best place to view the Grand Canal." It was Bar Foscarini next to the Ponte dell' Accademia. Not only was it a gorgeous view, but we were able to see the ancestral home down to the left. It was a serendipitous moment. Hope to return when we can. More family history in Bassano del Grappa to explore.

We were in Inverness, Scotland. We were approaching our 25th wedding anniversary and on this trip we had been looking for Celtic rings with 3 diamonds (past, present and future - sometimes called eternity rings). Hadn't seen any! In the Victorian shopping arcade, we saw a jeweler's that had a sign saying custom jewelry designed. I convinced my husband to at least go in and talk to them. We met with a designer who made us perfect rings (they were shipped at a later date) AND we made a fast friend who we met on future trips who designed several lovely pieces for us. We even stayed with him and his wife up in Drumnadrochit one December trip!

On a road trip through Spain in 1981, I arrived in Barcelona without a good map, and promptly got lost trying to find the Sagrada Familia. Finally I parked and hailed a taxi to take me there.

Apparently the movie Oklahoma was on TV the night before. When the charming driver heard my accent, he started singing the score. O What a Beautiful Morning, Surrey with the Fringe on Top, Oklahoma...When he got to “I’m Just A Girl who Can’t Say No”, I thought it was time to go the rest of the way on foot. Now I never arrive in Barcelona without singing a round of Oklahoma.

I had to chuckle when I found this thread. The memory that immediately came to mind was of a time when I laughed the hardest and longest I have laughed in my entire life. My husband and I and another couple were traveling to a few Christmas markets in Bavaria. This was in the mid-90's. We had spent a couple hours at the Christmas market on the Marienplatz in Munich when we decided it was time to find a bite to eat. We found a brauhaus on the shopping street west of the Marienplatz. We located seats in a large dining room. My friend and I quickly decided on our meals. My husband and the friend's husband spent a bit of time pondering the menu. My husband decided that they should order a Matjesfilet, as a beef steak sounded good to both of them. When the meals were placed before us, my friend and I were overwhelmed with the quantity of food we had received, even by German standards. Then we looked at the meals our husband's had ordered. They had before them a small whole cold fish on a bed of lettuce. That was it. The meal consisted only of that cold fish. My friend and I started laughing. We laughed until tears ran down our checks. After awhile the rest of the folks in the dining room were laughing with us. We could hear table folks at one table telling another what the laughter was all about. After quite some time we stopped laughing, only to start again a few seconds later. This happened several times. Finally, we offered our husbands much of the food on our plates and we enjoyed our meals. On our last trip to Munich in October 2019 my husband and I decided to find that brauhaus and eat there again. It was as we remembered it. This time we ordered a meal with a main course of venison. It was delicious. And the ambiance brought back the memories of our meal there with our good friends.

A standout memory for me was 25 years ago on my first trip to Botswana and Zim with Wilderness Travel Tour company. Between camps we flew on a bush plane and the pilot judged the prevailing winds upon descent by looking at which way the male lion's mane was being blown about. I thought--- what we're landing based on which way a lions hair is blowing. My heart and soul leaped for joy at this. The lion was lying on the runway (a sophisticated word for the soft sand dirt road) and for me this was unforgettable and very much a TIA (this is Africa) moment never to be forgotten.

Although it is an European board, our most exciting, exhausting, enlightenment, mind blowing, enrichment, leaning, fascinating experience was a one week trip to Cuba about five years ago. We were there the week Obama loosen restrictions and we returned to Miami with legal Cuban cigars and rum. To see the reaction of the Cuban people to the lifting of the restrictions was very special. It was a unique experience that probably will never be repeated.

It was Christmas in London a few years back and due to a surprise visit from out youngest son coming over from Ireland, we returned really good tickets to a sold out Christmas spectacular. We declined a refund and told the office staff to give them to someone with a "Merry Christmas from Kansas". Upon returning home we received a handwritten letter on stationery from the Swedish Embassy in Paris, profusely thanking us for our generosity in the spirit of Christmas. We couldn't make out the hand written signatures but with a little sleuthing and help from the embassy staff, it turned out to be from the Swedish Ambassador to France and his wife. We've saved that letter as one of our cherished memories of our travels and unexpectedly meeting kind strangers across the globe. It makes me smile just recounting it to all of you.

I've said it before and it still hasn't been supplanted - the second I walked thru the doors of the Santa Lucia train station in Venice and saw the Grand Canal in front of me - I was done. It was 2008 and if you can fall in love at first sight with a city, it happened to me. We've been back 4 more times since then and the allure is still there for me. I could seriously go every year for 3-4 nights and never get tired of wandering the back alleys.

My favorite trip memory is one of my first:
One summer many years ago a college friend and I decided that it would be a good idea to go to Paris for a couple of weeks and freeload off of his sister who was working in the American embassy there. We proceeded independently to Paris, with only the vaguest of plans to meet up at his sister's apartment a few days after we'd split up in Frankfurt. All I had was an address and directions to take the metro upon arrival to a particular station and make my way from there. An added fun factor was that I spoke no French and so had everyone cringing any time I tried to explain where I wanted to go.
My train from Frankfurt arrived late, so that by the time I made my way to the distant metro stop it was well after dark, with no one on the streets as I emerged from the station. After walking along forelornly for a few blocks, resigned to the likelihood that I'd be sleeping on a park bench that night, I came upon an elderly man who was sweeping out a little bistro he was in the process of closing up for the night. I had heard about the supposed rudeness of Parisians towards Americans but figured I had nothing to lose by throwing myself upon his mercy and asking directions ... in English of course. He fixed me with a long gaze after I'd asked my question - I couldn't tell if he was being hostile, curious or was simply uncomprehending. I guess he took in the pathetic spectacle before him before asking a one-word question: "Nederlander?". I replied no that I was American. After another few seconds of taking stock he briefly tried to explain how to get to my destination, but, realizing what a hopeless case he was dealing with he finally gave it up and told me to "attendez un moment".
Long story short: he stopped what he was doing, closed up his little cafe and reappeared a few minutes later with a tiny little car that he gestured me into. Then, much to my amazement (and eternal gratitude) he proceeded to drive me thru several narrow streets before emerging in front of an apartment complex, pointed at the nearest one and said "la". Thanking him profusely I made my way to the door, well after midnight by this time, knocked and was admitted by the very surprised roommates of my buddy's sister ... she (and he) had departed the previous day for a quick trip out of town and had told them to be on the lookout for me, though I doubt that anyone suspected that my arrival would be at zero dark thirty on a work night.
The postscript was that as I entered I looked over to see that my benefactor had waited to ensure that I made it inside safely before departing with a friendly wave.
It was my first experience with the kindness of strangers and left me with a fond memory that I've carried with me for the rest of my traveling days ... along with a life-lesson about stereotypes that I've not forgotten.

We have been so blessed to have had the opportunity to travel more and further than we had ever dreamed that we would. Even though we have so many "Wow" memories, the one that comes up whenever we are reminiscing of our travels is that of an exceptionally memorable bathroom attendant we encountered on our first trip to Italy. As you know, you must take advantage of using the facilities whenever possible ("go when you can, not when you have to"). We had enjoyed a wonderful sidewalk meal at a cafe in Piazza Navona and asked to use the bathroom before leaving. We were told to take the circular stone stairs to the lower level. There we found a very diminuative, well wrinkled lady in her colorful floor length skirt with the obligatory basket for tips on a table next to the door that lead to unisex restroom. While she spoke no English, she had no difficulty communicating with us! She directed visitors to the assigned stalls. Each stall had floor to ceiling walls where you were completely enclosed. Our little attendant shouted instructions very loudly as to be heard by all. When she felt someone was taking more than her allotted time, she began turning the lights on and off until the offender came out. And believe me, you had better leave an appropriate tip! We have since returned to the Piazza, several times since then, but sadly have never had this little lady spice up our visit.

what a pleasant thread - thanks John

I walked into the TI in Eskjö, Sweden to obtain a bus schedule for a visit to a small town, Ingatorp, from where a bunch of my 18th and 19th c. ancestors hailed. When discussing the schedule, the young TI woman asked me why I was going there. I told her. She told me to come back in the morning. I returned and she walked me down the street to an history/genealogical center where she handed me over to two people. They obtained some information from me and told me to return in two hours. I returned and they had printed my ancestors' vital documents and had a 71 year old woman on the phone who would meet me the next day at the local bakery and take me to Ingatorp. Well, she didn't just take me to Ingatorp, but to many tiny homes/buildings where my ancestors had lived and worked. These were on small, unpaved roads in the country (where I doubt I could find them again), went in a couple of them, and she made sure the church was open for me. In the process we stopped at a community club for a snack she'd made. The community club had an amazing view of the area as it was perched on the side of a steep hill. Later she brought me to her classic Swedish home in a field above a lake and made me supper of reindeer, potatoes, chanterelles (which she'd picked), and vasterbotten cheese. I also had ancestors from northern Sweden so she thought that was an appropriate dinner. She'd gone to college in the north. She rushed me to the last bus at 10:00 PM for my return to Eskjö. This type of adventure can only happen when traveling solo. IMO And this was only one such adventure that I had in Sweden.

My first trip on my own. Backpack and a rail pass and no plan. This was pre-cellphone and pre-internet so no email. I was standing on the coast somewhere in Scotland, and I realized absolutely no one I knew - family, friends, bosses, coworkers, etc., had any idea where I was. Thousands of miles from work issues, ex-girlfriends, and no responsibility to anyone. It was a liberating feeling, and impossible to duplicate in later years.

I heartily agree with John's post about Sorrento and Nicole's post about Venice. When we arrived at the Bellevue Syrene hotel in Sorrento and stepped out on our balcony the view of the Bay of Naples and Mt. Vesuvius was amazing. The sunsets in Sorrento and the twinkling lights around the base of Mt Vesuvius at night looked like a jeweled necklace across the Bay of Naples. In Venice we also were blown away by our first view of the Grand Canal and the lovely views along the canal to San Marco. A favorite memory that I will add is our time in Villefranche sur Mer, France on the French Riviera. The view from the balcony of Hotel Welcome on the harbor front was so relaxing. In the evening we loved watching tourists race up by taxi to try to catch their tender to a cruise ship in the harbor. This small town on the Mediterranean was charming and the shale beach there was beautiful.

When I was 8 years old on my first trip to Europe with my family we were in a little farming town in Germany. We stopped at this little farm house at the crossroads and my dad took me and we walked up to the front door of the house (my mother and siblings were in the van)

The door opened and this little old lady (typical looking plump old lady) answers the door speaking German.
My father replies in german with his name. A confused look appears on the ladies face and she looks from my dad to me and back to my dad. She asks “Heine?” Very softly and quietly as my dad nods his head she repeats it louder and louder and then (in German) “My Heine?” As tears run down her cheek she tosses her arms around my father bursting into tears
This was my Great Aunt Amelia and my father had spent a month or more a year for years living with her during the summer time. But had not seen her after he moved to the US at age 18 approximately 30 years earlier.

Flash forward 40 years later and I am standing on the same front porch next to my father as a little old lady answers the door in German. My dad explains who we are and we are in diet into the family home. My great aunt has long passed away but this is her daughter my dads cousin. In 2018 I took my dad to Europe. And I asked him if there was anything he wanted to do and ip he said he wanted to see his Aunts house and his grandmothers house (next town over) So I slightly adjusted the trip.

Turns out it was the best decision I ever made as this turned out to be the last trip my father will ever make to Europe as he has a terminal illness
I have been places I always dreamed of going, and I have spent more “fun” days. But the few days we spent with my great Aunt and the afternoon with my fathers cousin rank at the top. And nothing I do in Europe will ever match seeing my Dad embracing the lady who helped raise him after 30 years of separation.

That is the most beautiful post I’ve ever read, Douglas.

To everything
There is a season
And a time to every purpose, under heaven

Pete Seeger Turn Turn Turn

Another one from me. We’re visiting Spain with our children in 1994 and stopped for the night in Oviedo. In the morning we went down to the pastry shop only to find it closed. An old Spanish man was there too and seemed as disappointed as we were. After asking him where another shop was, he said he knew where the best one in town was and to follow him. He got in his car and us in ours and we drove around town until arriving at his suggested shop. The children got a kick out of the entire incident. The pastries were good. That’s the same trip where when we got to Madrid, Fernando Botero had an exhibition of numerous sculptures lined up along Paseo de Recoletos. The children laughed at the exaggerated body shapes in the sculptures. So, many memories from so many trips.

Bets, thank you for you kind words.