Another autumn, another "ASTA." But not every turn in our trip to
the World Travel Congress in Strasbourg, France, turned out to be a
piece of gateau.
Insider and several colleagues bound for the congress had opted
for a flight into Basel, Switzerland, about 65 miles from the host
city.
Assured early on that the Society's land operators in Europe
were providing shuttle-bus service between Basel and Strasbourg, we
were surprised to find only one coach waiting for delegates in the
Swiss city. The bus filled quickly, and we were left stranded. So
we split into two groups and hired two taxis. This was when the fun
began.
We know only too well how fast people drive in Europe and
generally leave to fate the notion of whether survival as a
passenger is probable.
This time, survival seemed less likely when, peering from the
backseat, Insider saw the driver was doing about 140 kph (nearly 90
mph) while reading a map that was draped over his steering wheel.
With a groan, we turned away, closed our eyes and hoped for the
best.
After a wrong turn off the autoroute that provided us with an
impromptu tour of a Peugeot factory, we made it to Strasbourg --
frazzled but intact. After this, we figured any bumpy goings on at
the congress itself would be a stroll in the park.
Car-monic convergence
What goes around comes around -- especially when you travel. So
the week before we left for Strasbourg, we logged some karma by
pointing out where Macy's was to a tourist in New York City.
When we showed up in Strasbourg, we and a colleague were trying
to hail a taxi in a deserted part of town on a Sunday morning, with
no luck. But a passing local motorist, a woman, took pity on us and
said, "You can't hail taxis; you must go to a taxi stand."
After some further
conversation, she agreed to take us to our destination. The woman
turned out to have a daughter in New York on a student-exchange
program. Hmm.
How to delegate
We heard some wonderful stories while at the ASTA congress.
For example, it seems there was a delegate who was feeling
poorly and in need of a doctor. What did he do? He phoned ASTA
headquarters in Alexandria, Va., demanding that the staff there get
him a doctor.
So ASTA called Strasbourg, and, eventually, the hotel was called
into the picture and attended to the problem. Wouldn't it have been
easier to call the front desk in the first place?
Tintinn-intolerant
Then there was the delegate who heard the city's church bells
peeling out their good news one morning. He called the front desk
and asked that someone make the noise stop.
At least this delegate called the front desk.
A Philadelphia Yankee
Former British prime minister John Major described himself to
delegates at the congress as half-British and half-American.
His explanation: His father spent his childhood in Philadelphia
in the 1880s.
The 1880s? Major explained further, "When I was born, my father
was 65 -- and my mother was surprised."
Queued off
Major also told the following story about Mikhail Gorbachev. In
fact, it was a joke the former Soviet leader told about himself,
well after he had left national office.
It seems there was a terrible food shortage, and Russian
citizens were waiting in lines for days to get bread and other
items. Finally, one man said, "I blame Gorbachev for all of this. I
am going to kill him."
Then the man
disappeared and returned a couple of days later to find the bread
line had moved forward a bit.
His neighbor in line asked if the budding assassin had indeed
killed Gorbachev. Well, no, he had not done the deed. "The line to
kill Gorbachev was far too long," he said.
Re-remaindered
Roger Axtell, author of the book "What Every Traveler Needs to
Know: Do's and Taboos Around the World," told ASTA delegates that
his greatest fear is garage sales.
This is because of a recent experience he had back in Wisconsin,
his home state, when his wife took him to one such sale.
He found his book -- the most recent edition, no less -- on one
of the tables. It was priced at "25 cents, marked down to 10
cents."
Without identifying himself, Axtell said he asked the hostess to
explain the pricing on the book.
"There is writing in the front," she said. The "writing" was
Axtell's autograph.
Break me off a piece
Axtell, to show how anything can happen in cross-cultural
encounters, told this true story about one of his friends.
The friend, he said, bought a soft drink and a KitKat candy bar
at an airport in the U.S. and sat at a table to eat her snack.
Seated at the table was another solo traveler -- a man who appeared
to be from overseas.
She unwrapped the KitKat bar, broke off a piece of candy and ate
it. Her unidentified, and silent, companion reached over, took the
candy, broke off a piece and ate it.
She watched in dismay and then reached over, took the candy,
broke off a piece and ate it. Her tablemate then repeated those
steps, as did she, until the candy was gone. Not a word had been
spoken.
Then, once on her plane, Axtell's friend opened her handbag and
discovered her KitKat bar. Imagine how strange that overseas
visitor must have thought certain American habits.