Lettie Goes Travelling

When I first started travelling again, I used to spend hours researching where to visit and what to see. I would buy those little travel guide books too… although if I’m honest, I rarely actually read them.

Most of my early trips were planned out like a military operation.

Looking back now, I can see that this approach was really about confidence. When everything was nailed down, nothing was left to chance. I was eliminating as many variables as possible so that nothing unexpected could happen.

But over time something shifted.

I realised that what actually works best for me is having a few hard plans in place… and then leaving plenty of space around them.

As my confidence grew, I subconsciously realised that it was often the variables — the unexpected moments — that made the difference between a good trip and a great one.

Of course, the type of trip matters too. A long weekend exploring a city has very different priorities to ten days in a beach resort, and the way I plan those trips reflects that.

There are, however, a couple of non-negotiables for me.

The first is the transfer from the airport.

No matter how many times I travel, the most anxious part of the whole trip is getting from the airport to the hotel.

Even when I’ve booked a package holiday and the transfer is included, I still worry about getting on the right coach, or spending an hour waiting for the last two passengers to collect their bags. In some ways it can feel more stressful, because I’m not in control.

When I’m travelling independently, I do a lot of preparation for this part. I’ll check taxis and public transport, often opting for public transport with a taxi as a backup. I’ll look at photos of the arrivals hall, work out how to get from arrivals to the train or bus station, and even use street view to check the walk to the hotel.

I know I’m a confident traveller… but this bit still gets me every time.

And sometimes, even when you think everything is organised perfectly, travel still throws you a curve ball.

Take a trip I made to Barcelona.

Barcelona has a bit of a reputation for pickpockets, and I was arriving early evening, meaning it would be dark by the time I travelled to the hotel. When I booked my hotel, they offered a 25% discount on an airport taxi transfer, so I decided to take that option.

When I landed, I switched my phone off flight mode and immediately received a message telling me my driver was waiting outside arrivals. It included the car registration, make and colour. Very organised. I felt reassured.

Then I received a WhatsApp message.

“Have you got your bag yet? I’m waiting outside arrivals.”

I replied that I was just coming through passport control and wouldn’t be long.

So far, so good.

But when I came into the arrivals hall, instead of seeing a car outside, I saw a young man holding a card with my name on it.

I approached him, assuming we would head straight to the car.

Nope.

“The driver is just coming around,” he told me. “He’ll ring me when he’s outside.”

Ten minutes later we were still standing there.

I asked what was happening.

“Bad traffic. Won’t be long.”

At this point I commented that I thought he was the driver, as my message had said the car was waiting outside.

“Plans change,” he said.

Eventually, about fifteen minutes later, he announced that the car had arrived and we just needed to take a short walk.

Off we went.

And we kept walking.

And walking.

And walking.

By now my internal Spidey senses were on full alert.

As we walked, he asked if it would be alright for him to travel into Barcelona with me in the taxi. Apparently I was the last passenger of the night and the next bus wasn’t for another fifty minutes.

It felt a bit churlish to refuse.

So I agreed.

We continued walking until we eventually reached a car.

Except it wasn’t the car I had been told about.

Different colour.

Different make.

Different registration.

And a different driver.

My Spidey senses were now in overdrive.

At this point I explained that my son was waiting for me at the hotel and that I needed to let him know I was on my way. In reality he was in London, but that didn’t matter.

I quickly shared my live location with him and my daughter-in-law and then proceeded to have a very loud and very imaginary phone conversation for the entire taxi journey.

The young man jumped out of the car just as we entered the city, and the rather grumpy driver dropped me around the corner from the hotel.

Thankfully I had already checked street view.

The point is this.

You can plan a lot.

You can plan very little.

But in my experience, travel always involves adapting to what is presented to you.

Sometimes things don’t go exactly as expected.

Sometimes your instincts kick in.

And sometimes you end up telling a very convincing imaginary story on the phone for twenty minutes.

But that’s all part of travelling.

After all, it’s meant to be a holiday… not work.