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Illustration by Alex Deadman-Wylie
“Are you going to help me, or are you just a turd?”
The question, directed at no one in particular, came from a visibly overheated and frustrated Australian tourist at the Alhambra in Spain. Years later, that moment still resonates with me. His frustration reflects a common travel experience: the unpredictable nature of it, where even the best laid plans can unravel. But it’s the mishaps and our reactions to them that often teach us the most about ourselves.
Exploring different countries and meeting new people has forced me to step out of the safety of routine and into a world where anything can happen. So, my travels have been less about perfect photos and more about misadventures.
Travel has allowed me to expand my mind and meet interesting characters, such as the heavily tattooed, good-hearted, toothless friend I made riding the Greyhound bus across the U.S. He was on his way to work security at the motorcycle rally in Sturgis, S.D., and kindly got an extra spoon to share his bowl of ice cream. I politely declined but I enjoyed his company and learned more about managing rebellious bikers than I ever expected.
Spending 50-plus hours on a Greyhound bus gave me the opportunity to interact with many diverse people that I never would have otherwise. It helped me foster empathy and reminded me how much we all share.
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But my travels have often been a series of mishaps, and after contracting COVID-19 last summer, my friend referred to me as a travel doofus (his language was much less kind). As I started to protest, he began listing off all trips where I’ve experienced sickness or injury. I had no comeback.
My misadventures began more than 25 years ago during a trip to Australia. One might expect tales of surviving encounters with spiders, snakes or scorpions in the Outback. However, there’s no thrilling narrative to boast about overcoming the perils of Australia’s wildlife. Rather, I got my ear stitched up after swimming too close to my friend who was learning to windsurf. Traversing the colourful and majestic Great Barrier Reef was an unforgettable experience, but this trip began a long pattern of travel mishaps.
My travel doofus reputation was solidified during an epic journey to South Africa. Brimming with encounters of the Big Five (lion, leopard, rhino, elephant and buffalo) in Kruger National Park, facing off with great white sharks and countless other thrilling escapades – it was like a highlight reel of accidents waiting to unfold. As fantastic as this trip was, it was coloured by sickness resulting in fever, violent shivering, unplanned sleep in noisy and crowded places and many embarrassing instances of me yelling nonsense, like “French toast is ready! Pick it up!” I returned home 20 pounds lighter, a physical and foggy-headed mess, but still a better person for this experience.
Undeterred by my growing misadventures, I then travelled to Thailand, arriving in steamy Bangkok to soak up the vibrant city and all that it had to offer. But my overly ambitious plans, coupled with the heat and overstimulation of the bustling city and exacerbated by strong anti-malaria medication, lead to bouts of sleeplessness, anxiety and nightmares. I’m surprised I wasn’t asked to leave the hostel, as my late night screams were probably not good for business.
On departure, the hostel staff politely smiled but I’m sure they were relieved to see me go and may have even tried to exorcise the demons from my room. Ultimately, the experience taught me the importance of pacing myself as a traveller, recognizing the need to manage both physical and mental well-being.
After escaping Bangkok, I relaxed in Ko Samui where I again became ill, waking up in a Thai hospital dehydrated, incoherent and wondering where my pants were. For a couple of days, I aimlessly meandered about with my hospital gown open at the back, IV in tow, watching Thai soap operas and incessantly asking for banana pancakes. Following those periods of confusion and vulnerability, I reflected that travel isn’t just about the destinations, but about how we learn to embrace the uncertainty of life through a lens of humour.
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My unravelling travel plans were at play again in Tanzania where I eagerly absorbed the grandeur of the Serengeti, Ngorongoro Crater and Mount Kilimanjaro. Despite planning to propose to my-then girlfriend atop Kilimanjaro, altitude sickness intervened. The final ascent brought dizziness, instability and a surreal disconnection from reality, where I was convinced I saw apes carved into the mountainside and understood the Swahili that the hiking guides were speaking. The summit offered fleeting relief before my rubbery-legged descent was marked by a bizarre belief that I was a chicken. It’s amazing and lucky that I made it through this, though the marriage proposal would have to wait.
Despite illnesses, injuries and accidental nudity, I’ve come to embrace the fact that travel is as much about the journey as it is about the misadventures. In the end, it’s not about avoiding the bumps and bruises – it’s about laughing through them, connecting with others and knowing that the best stories often come from the most unexpected moments.
Bernie Goodman lives in North Vancouver.
