My repertoire of traveling disaster stories is limited. In large part, I’ve been lucky, and I’m also a careful planner. I try to bake resiliency into my itineraries and I’ve looked at alternatives. I’m a careful planner now because of what is known in my family as “The France Story,” a multi-day story of cascading failure driven by a series of bad decisions and poor planning, all on my part.
Thursday, May 15, 2003
I spent the spring of 2003 studying abroad at Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universität in Bonn, Germany. This was a three-month program, and I was a little over six weeks in at this point. I had a Eurail Pass, good for unlimited travel over a two-month period, and I’d been making good use of it, covering about 3,500 miles. Almost all of it was second class without a seat reservation. When I overnighted away from Bonn, I stayed in youth hostels. Reservations were cheap, €5-10 euro/night, plus (often) a deposit for the bed linen.