by David McGuffin | Jul 9, 2008 | Adventures in Tour Guiding
Recently, I’ve been writing about my experiences planning and leading tours. This was brought on by a friend at church asking me how I liked my recent “vacation” in Europe. Don’t get me wrong, traveling in Europe is a blast and I wouldn’t do it if I did not really enjoy myself, but there is a lot of work to it too.
I’ve gathered the group from all the bathrooms and ATMs in the airport and have them on the bus. Finally, we are heading into central Paris. It’s early afternoon by now and the folks are excited to see the countryside, road signs in French, and the little cars. Things go well. I get on the microphone and begin telling the group about Paris’ history and how we are going to explore the city in the next few days. I talk about the hotel in Paris and try to prepare them for something quite different than what we have in the USA.
We hit the ring road around Paris and have timed it just right. There are no traffic jams! In just a few minutes we leave the highway and are in the heart of Paris surrounded by crowded streets, no lanes, horns blowing, and pedestrians everywhere. From behind the bus windows, the folks are struck in awe of the little shops selling fruits and vegetables, the chic clothing boutiques, and the facades of the 17th century buildings lining the streets. It’s just so… Parisian!
Soon we come to our hotel, our home-away-from-home for the next three days. Of course there is nowhere for a big bus to park so the driver just stops, turns on his emergency flashers, gets out, and opens the cargo doors. I remind everyone to take all their stuff and not to leave it on the bus because you’ll never see this bus again, and then I say it two or three more times just for emphasis. We have to dodge traffic while getting everyone’s luggage off the bus. The Parisian drivers hardly seem to care that we are there. Imagine a big bus blocking the road, twenty butts sticking out of the cargo hold trying to find their luggage, and the others standing around waiting for theirs to appear. You’d think the typical defensive drivers of Paris would at least slow down. But no, their solution is to increase speed, blow their horns, and rush to the next traffic light 30 meters up ahead. Whew, what an adventure!
Once everyone has their luggage and we are on the relatively safe refuge of the sidewalk, the bus pulls away. Now to get into the hotel, get everyone checked-in, and into their rooms. Sounds easy, right?
(to be continued)
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by David McGuffin | Jul 7, 2008 | Adventures in Tour Guiding
In the last post I talked about planning a tour. This was spurred by a comment at my church last Sunday when someone asked (after I was in Europe for three weeks), “How was your vacation?” I laughed and it got me thinking that most people don’t have a clue what I do when I’m in Europe. Let me tell you it ain’t a vacation all the time, but it ain’t a bad gig either!
So my tour is planned, I’ve got people signed-up and paid to go, and they are all flying off from different destinations in the US to meet me in, let’s say Paris. My job here is to get to Paris before them, beat the jet-lag, and collect them all in one location at the airport so we can get to our hotel. Sounds easy, but have you ever had a flight delay or cancellation? Imagine a group of 25 people all trying to get to the same place in Europe from multiple destinations in the USA. Something is bound to go wrong.
Let’s say it’s now about 1:00 p.m. and everyone has arrived, and I’ve even secured a shuttle bus to take the group from the airport to our hotel in central Paris. So we all try to get to the bus, and then there is this guy who just now remembers he needs to get money from the ATM. I smile, point out the ATM, and then wait with the whole group while he goes to the machine. Here we are, 25 people with luggage in tow, blocking the elevator, and waiting on this guy to get cash from the ATM. Finally, I go over to him and try to help him out without looking at his secret PIN#. The screen is all in French because he did not choose the “English” option at the beginning and now we both are caught up in some unending jargon about fees, service charges, and exchange rates…all in French! I tell him it’s ok, just push the “Yes” button and his euro currency will be delivered from the little slot below, just like at home. But no, that won’t work! He cancels the transaction, swears a bit, and then we rejoin the group…without cash.
Terminal 1 at Charles de Gaulles airport is an icon. It was featured in a James Bond film when the villain chased Bond through a maze of “space-aged” lexan tunnels. Now, after about 40 years of decay, they finally started to spruce up the joint. Unfortunately it’s still under construction and many of the exits are closed. So, we look for an elevator to take us down three levels to the bus.
Imagine 25 people with luggage trying to crowd into an elevator just a little larger than a coffin. Soooo…forty-five minutes later we arrive at the bus just three short floors below. Sixty percent of the people heeded my lessons about packing light. The other forty percent arrive red-faced and sweating with their one VERY large bag and one very large carry-on. The bus driver and I groan as we load ’em in the cargo hold.
Everyone is on the bus, the luggage is loaded, and we all can take a deep sigh….
(to be continued)
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by David McGuffin | Jul 5, 2008 | Adventures in Tour Guiding
I returned home yesterday from a three week stay in Europe where I visited Italy, France, and Switzerland. While at church this morning several people asked me, “How was your vacation?” I laughed and replied, “We had a great time!” While at the same time I was really thinking, “They don’t have a clue what I do when I’m gone.”
Yes, I understand traveling to Europe is something that only a few of us take advantage of in our lifetime. For many it never crosses their mind, or maybe only pops up when they see the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, or the Colesseum in a movie. But for those of you who have traveled with me or have gone to Europe on your own know the magnetic draw to return again, and again. I love traveling to Europe, but there is a lot of difference in going on a tour and leading a tour. So in this post I thought I’d tell you a little about the work that goes into organizing a tour before anyone ever gets on the plane.
Well, let’s see it all begins at least a year in advance when I begin dreaming up tour itineraries and destinations. In some cases this is easy, especially with “proven” itineraries such as Paris to Rome or Venice, Florence, and Rome. However, every year I do try to come up with some new city pairing or itinerary. Once an itinerary is established the chore of nailing down hotels begins. Now-a-days it is not so bad because I’ve got an established reputation with many hoteliers and if they’ve got room they’ll give it to me. As you can imagine this takes some weeks to get responses from eight or nine hotels to all mesh with my planned itinerary. With a little tweaking the tour itinerary is set.
Now that I’ve got a tour planned I’ve got to get people to sign up and go on it! So then begins the tasks of tour promotions at trade shows, on the Internet, and by word of mouth. If all goes well I’ll have enough folks signed up for the tour by the time mid-February rolls around. By this time the vendors and hoteliers in Europe are asking for a deposit so I’ve got to decide how to pay. You know the euro-to-dollar rate stinks right now. For one or two travelers it’s not a real big deal if the exchange rate goes up by two percent, but when working with a group of twenty-five people that’s a big difference. So I’ve got to be a bit of a gambler when pricing the tour twelve months in advance. Luckily I projected correctly five out of the seven years I’ve been in business!
It’s now mid-March and let’s say I’ve got the tour planned and even have it filled with people who want to travel to Europe with me. So now all I’ve got to do is collect the final payments, get on an airplane and meet them in Europe. Well that’s a story for the next post!
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by David McGuffin | May 16, 2008 | Adventures in Tour Guiding, Culture & Customs
It’s not often that I get fooled, but this morning I was completely caught off guard by a gypsy mother and her child.
It all began as five of us were sitting at our hotel having breakfast. We’d just awoken from a comfortable night’s sleep and warm shower, and had a big breakfast to boot. While finishing our coffee, my friends Brenda and Diane were looking out the window and noticed a gypsy woman with her small child across the street. She, like most “beggar” women I’ve encountered, was covered head to toe in dirty clothes, sat in a miserably uncomfortable position in front of the post office, and had her child not in her arms but in a pram. The pram was a bit out of character, but everything else looked normal. Well, Brenda and Dianne were sitting at the breakfast table feeling really sorry for this mother and her kid. At one point, the kid must have been making a fuss and the young mother started slapping him to make him be quiet and lay down in the pram. Soon Walter and Perry (the husbands of Brenda and Diane) and myself were drawn into the spectacle of the scene unfolding on the street below.
Now I had seen this image countless times as the beggar mother looked pitiful and held out a cup for spare euro change. She shook it and moaned something in some indiscernible language which I know translates into “Give some money. I’m hungry, you sucker.” It’s all a sham, an act, and they are really out to steal from us in the end. I tried to convince the others that this is how we get suckered into giving the gypsy-sorts money. Walter decided to challenge me and give her a couple of oranges from the breakfast table. I told him the gypsy mother would give him a look of disgust and throw them back at him.
Soon we were watching from the window above as Walter crossed the street, went to the young mother, and took out two oranges. As he handed them to her, even from our position some 200 feet away, we could see a big smile across her face and immediately the young child poped up from his pram and was reaching longingly for the orange. The young girl had it pealed in a minute and gave it to the kid who devoured it. In the meantime, the mom peeled the other orange for herself and began eating. Walter did not see this happen because he was walking away fully expecting to be hit it the back of his head with a flying orange as I had predicted.
Needless to say I was totally wrong in my prediction! Watching through the window two stories above the street, we saw Walter walk back to the young woman, place some change in her cup, give her a word of encouragement, and then give her a few more euro. Up above I sat at the table in shame recalling my thought that the young woman was a con artist. At that moment, everyone began going back to the breakfast buffet for seconds and loading up their bags and purses with food for the poor mother and her child. After it was all done, I think she got fifteen or so euro and plenty to eat for the rest of the day.
I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow morning.
-David
by David McGuffin | Dec 22, 2007 | Adventures in Tour Guiding, Culture & Customs, Destinations
David’s note: This Journal entry was originally written in June 2007 details my adventure “driving” in Spain.
A few weeks ago my friends and I decided to explore a town which I’d never visited. We were in southern Spain, in the region known as the “route of the white villages.” This region is very mountainous and rugged, but dotting many of the hilltops are villages with their houses all decked out in bright white paint. We decided to visit one such village known as Arcos de la Fronteria.
Our group consisted of only 6 people, but we had a 9 passenger VW Van which made our travels quite comfortable…except for today. We arrived at the “bottom” of the town and practically drove right into the big underground garage. I thought this was great because it cuts down majorly on the stress of driving in a new place. However, we soon discovered that this was not the place we had read about in the guidebooks. We were looking for a hilltop medieval village.
After looking around a bit we decided the “town” we were in was considered the “new town” (only about 400 years old) and the one which we were looking for was a little farther up the hill. So…I asked a couple of people where the old town was and they all pointed uphill and spoke rapidly in Spanish which I totally did not understand. However, I did understand the pointing uphill part, so I felt reasonably confident that we should leave the comfort of the underground garage and drive uphill.
So up the hill, we went. Imagine a big white VW Van barreling up a steep cobbled street that is only a couple of feet wider than our vehicle. There were five people leaning forward, looking in all directions, trying to read street signs and give me hints on directions and driving styles. At this point, we were doing well. We even saw a couple of signs announcing the plaza we were seeking.
A delivery van was in front of us. That, plus us, made the only two vehicles going up the steep little street. But for the moment it was a street and all was well. Luckily the street was “one way” mostly because there was no way in the world two vehicles could pass each other. Soon the delivery van veered off to the left and we were faced with a decision…following him in a direction where there was maybe vehicular traffic, or go right into the unknown. I veered left and followed the delivery truck.
It wasn’t long before we all realized this was a mistake. The small road we had traveled uphill on had dwindled to nothing more than mere cobbled lane with not more than twelve inches of clearance on either side of the van. There was absolutely no place to turn around, so we followed the van. By now all my friends had quit giving advice…probably because there was none to give now.
We slowly came around a corner and found the delivery van had stopped and the driver was shouting to someone inside a house. We sat there a bit and soon a tiny garage door opened and the van squeezed in. Uh…oh…now here we were, stranded, with nowhere to go except downhill. But I thought this was logical since the only way off a mountain was downhill. So away we went. Downhill on the increasingly smaller cobbled street which had now turned to nothing more than a medieval sidewalk.
pretty narrow
As I am sitting here writing this entry a couple of weeks later, it is hard to describe just how small and steep this little passageway really was. There were times, even after we pulled in the side view mirrors, that we had less than one-half an inch of clearance on either side of the van. In retrospect, all six of us were very calm considering the situation.
The siesta period must have just ended because soon there were people coming out of the woodwork. Kids on scooters, women standing around gossiping, babies in buggies, and kids with toys. All of them were milling around in this little street on which I was driving. By the way, they were standing on the street because there was nowhere else to stand! I was really getting worried by now and began questioning everyone I saw with, “donde esta salida,” I think that is “where is the exit?” in Spanish. They all seemed amazed we were up there in the first place! I was amazed too! Each responded rapidly with something in Spanish and pointed downhill. I was getting good at understanding Spanish hand signals by now and continued ever so slowly downhill. With each meter, it seemed the street got narrower and narrower.
Before all the people showed up
We came to this hairpin turn. Here I had to maneuver the van back and forth about twenty times on a steep downhill grade just to get the van headed in the right direction downhill. This created an attraction in the neighborhood and it seemed everyone came out to take a look and comment on my driving skills, not to mention my stupidity for being up there in the first place. So here I was, working the clutch with one foot, the gas with the other, the emergency brake with my right hand, and trying to steer with my left. Remember this was all on a steep downhill grade, a one hundred and twenty-degree left-hand turn, and people all around.
By now everybody in the neighborhood was out in the street giving me directions and yelling out how much clearance I had here and there. I’m sure it meant something to them, but to me, I understood nothing except an occasional “no”.
It was a miracle, but we got out of that predicament with no scratches or dents to the van. After a couple of more close calls with clearances, the road began to gradually widen and soon there was plenty of room on either side. As luck would have it, we ended right back up in the underground parking lot where we had started an hour ago. We all sat for a moment in silence, each thanking the Lord for the miracle of my driving. Finally, we breathed a sigh of relief.
I parked in the garage and we all walked up the hill to the top of town. It was here we found that amazing medieval village with so much charm as described in the guidebook I was using. We found a hotel, I left the group at the bar and I walked back down the hill, got in the van and drove up the hill directly to the central plaza parking area. It was a piece of cake the second time around!
by David McGuffin | May 27, 2007 | Adventures in Tour Guiding, David's Journal, Destinations
The flight to Edinburgh was completely full. But that did not matter. I watched a bit of the movie, had my pasta and vino for dinner, and sequestered myself for three good hours of sleep with my iPod playing Bartok all night.
We finally got to Edinburgh town center by 12:00 and we were starving. So we found a seat at the “World’s End Pub” for a good meal of fish and chips. After lunch, we hit the streets again and saw all the sights there are to see in Edinburgh. We walked along Rose Street and window shopped, hiked-up Calton Hill for a grand city view, watched people, and found a good bench in the park.
Later we made our way up to the Castle. The medieval buildings are impressive and you can imagine yourself walking those very streets as if you were back in the 1400’s. It was a Saturday so the town was busy but the people and weather were nice. However, it was a bit cold, but not too bad. I would say that the high was around 55’F, which is pretty nice in the sun.
Later in the evening we got a call from Lindsey, my friend, who goes to the University of Edinburgh. She wanted to meet us at the Waverly Pub later that night for a couple of pints. So, we set out to find a good place for dinner. This was around 19:00 and we forgot that it was a Saturday with a Bank Holiday on Monday to follow. We walked around a long time before finding a place that wasn’t full. The name of the restaurant was “The Wee Windaes” up on the Royal Mile. The food was really good and we made it inside before the rain and hail (who woulda thunk) started coming down. I had lamb chops and Natalie had fresh Scottish Salmon.
After dinner we walked down the Royal Mile and found the Waverley Pub. Natalie and I went in, but found the place deserted, save for a bar tender and a couple of odd sorts at one of the tables. We got a couple of pints of Tennant’s and grabbed a table. I should have known better, but my mind was telling me “this is gonna be a dud evening”…however my heart knew better.
So…two hours later we were holding court at our table. Natalie was defending “W” and being “chatted-up” by our newfound friend Andrew who was a “newbie” at the Waverley. Meanwhile I sat back and took it all in while catching up on the news from Lindsey and her adventures with the University of Edinburgh, her landscaping ideals and the ultimate defense of her dissertation. This was an original pub with warm “drawn-from-the cellar-drop-by-drop ale” taps and plenty of “Callie80.”
After a few hours and several more pints we bailed on the Waverley and climbed up the Royal Mile, spat on the Edinburgh heart, hopped-skotched on the corner stones, petted the bronze Greyfrier’s Bobby, and finally ended at my favorite E’Burg pub known as “Sandy Bell’s”.
The place was packed, but somehow Natalie had a mission in mind and cleared the way. We ended up right by the musicians and the “Trad” session in the back. (“Trad” is short for traditional music session). We all grabbed a seat and the jig began. Wow, what a night! The bartender kicked us out at 1:30!
So, you might be wondering how I managed to fly over from the US, tour a city, and still experience a pub until the wee hours of the morning? Just pace yourself, don’t take a nap, keep walking, and sing-a-long with the band!
Cheers from Scotland!
David
