PHOTO: One of the many amazing sights in Spain (courtesy Ryan Rudnansky)
My trip to Spain to surprise my dad after he finished the 500-mile trek known as El Camino de Santiago started out magically enough.
Unbeknownst to my dad, my sister and I had been planning to surprise my dad in Santiago de Compostela for months. He knew my mom would be greeting him at the airport, but he had no clue my sister and I would be there along with her.
In fact, my dad was so excited about seeing my mom that he completely missed that my sister and I were right beside her when he greeted her. Needless to say, once he realized my sister and I were there he just about flipped out. It was a once-in-a-lifetime moment that I will never forget and will always hold dear to my heart.
But it's what happened before my sister and I arrived-and what happened after-that really got me thinking.
First of all, our trip to Spain wasn't all sunshine and roses. Not only did our connecting flight from Texas to Madrid get delayed, we missed our flight from Madrid to Santiago de Compostela because of the delay. In Madrid, a hardy security officer wouldn't let us use our Express Passes to bypass the lines at customs (because, apparently, express passes are useless and serve no purpose whatsoever). We then had to run to the departure gate only to arrive a couple minutes before departure and the agent at the gate tell us the gate had already closed.
That meant a six-hour delay until the next flight, which is not what you want to hear after a flight of over nine hours.
But, interestingly enough, my mom-who had booked her flight before we decided to join her in Spain-had the exact same flight as us. So, it actually worked out better, considering we all got to travel together and meet my dad at the airport, setting up the magical moment.
Flash forward. After sightseeing and heavy eating in Madrid, relaxing on a boat tour, and smoking Cubans and drinking port wine in Porto, Portugal, the last day of our trip together arrived (my sister and I would depart and my dad and my mom would continue to Lisbon and beyond).
And, oh, what a last day it was.
On the last day we would all be together, we decided to take a peaceful, tranquil two-hour drive through the Douro Valley wine region (a World Heritage Site) for some great food, drink and sightseeing.
Except, it didn't turn out to be peaceful and tranquil at all, and a supposed four-hour roundtrip turned out to be an all-day nightmare amid San Francisco-like fog and howling rains. Oh yeah, and we got stuck at one point in a small town called Peso da Regua…and I do mean stuck.
It all started when we missed an intersection that would have taken us on a smooth ride west to east through Mesao Frio. Instead, we ended up going north, then east, then south while scaling up a mountain enshrouded in dense fog and hit by non-stop rain. We couldn't see 20 feet in front of us, yet locals were flying past us and tailgating us, which only added to the stress.
Once we finally made it to Peso da Regua (near the middle of our pre-planned 17-mile drive through the valley), we had a nice little lunch at a local restaurant, then we figured we'd head east from there with our troubles behind us.
That is, if we could get out of Peso da Regua.
One problem from the start is that we were relying on a GPS device. The problem with some GPS devices is that they don't pick up every nook and cranny of a small town. So, this GPS device was basically leading us around in a circle, constantly recalculating and literally leading us into a wall…twice (it reminded me of a commercial where a GPS system tells a family to turn and leads them into a nearby lake).
What's worse, these were very narrow, very European streets where there was little room to maneuver, especially when facing oncoming cars.
And this leads us to a moment my family and I will never forget…as much as we would like to.
We were driving a stick up a narrow winding local neighborhood street when a massive van came barreling down. We tried to get as far right as possible, but we quickly realized there was little room for either of us to move. The man driving the van kept yelling at us to do something (I knew I should have brushed up on my Portuguese before the trip) while we yelled back in English. In short, none of us could understand a word the other was speaking.
This culminated in the man growing impatient and beginning to drive forward and scrape the side of our rental car with his van, while shifting only caused us to momentarily roll back into him before we could make a move up the hill/as far to the right as possible. At one point, we were literally stuck between a van and some random stone wall in Portugal.
By the end of it, it was a wonder how we only suffered a scrape on our rear view mirror when I was expecting there to be no rear view mirror left and a large gash across the side of our rental car.
Why am I retelling/reliving this nightmare?
Because I think it relates to the complications my sister and I had while traveling to Santiago de Compostela.
Travel is about venturing into the unknown. Sometimes things happen for a reason. Sometimes you wonder where the light at the end of the tunnel is. But this is travel.
And longtime travelers know that sometimes the unexpected can yield the most amazing moments of your lifetime. And sometimes the unexpected can make you search for answers or reevaluate (my lesson: take a bus to Douro Valley next time).
No matter how a particular travel day turns out, there is something always to be learned. How you view an event or situation is far more important than the event or situation itself.
That is as true about traveling as it is about life.
The more you travel, the more you begin to understand about life-whether you are exploring a new town and culture…or stuck in it.
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