Helsinki Finland was a place I’d always wanted to visit. One of my co-workers grew up there and we loved to hear stories about her childhood in this fairy tale place. When my husband and I finally had a chance to visit, we went armed with her best travel tips. Take the ferry to Suomenlinna, visit the Rock Church, and sample the pear ice cream in Market Square. One thing she failed to say was, “Watch your feet”.
As we got off the bus for our day tour, I immediately lost sight of my husband and found myself walking with a group from Nigeria. As I scanned the crowd for my missing spouse, something caught my foot. One minute I was vertical, and the next – Boom! I was flat on my face on the sidewalk
What? As my addled brain tried to grasp my new location, I was swept to my feet by a large Nigerian man in cool African attire.
“Madame,” he inquired, “are you injured?”
“No,” I said, although by now the road rash on my hands and knees was beginning to sting.
“Do you need a doctor?” His group had gathered around and were clucking their tongues in concern.
At this point, my husband finally materialized. “What are you doing?!” he said, unhelpfully.
I briefly considered joining the Nigerians, they were nicer.
But once he got over his surprise, my husband morphed back into his caring self. We thanked my hero, and I sat down to assess the damage. Looking around for what I’d tripped on, I spotted the tiniest nail sticking out of the sidewalk. Seriously? I’d been hoping for something a little more dramatic. Oh well, what can I say? Finland . . .
I fell for you.
For more travel blunders click here.