por Jim
Our arrival in Bogota yesterday was punctuated by a series of event that remind us why travel can seem so frustrating as it is happening -- and so much as an edgy adventure in retrospect. It all ended well with us comfortably quartered in an upscale hotel in the city, albeit many hours later than we anticipated.
Things began when we arrived, in the rain, at the hotel where we had reservation. Although located in the center of town, it didn't live up to the promise of its internet description (on the internet anyone you talk to may be a dog and, in the Lake Woebegone tradition, every hotel appears above average. Things ain't always what they seem). So we sat in our unsatisfactory room, logged into the internet and made a reservation (getting a good price for a irrevocable commitment) at a Marriott. We then exited the unsatisfactory hotel as smoothly as possible and had them get a cab for us.
Unfortunately the cab driver wasn't familiar with Marriott hotels and began a very long ride by heading for a location suggested when he misread the address we had written for the Marriott. Our Spanish was adequate to straighten that one out and we then began a long ride that ended up at our designated address, which was in the middle of a commercial and industrial area where no building had more than two stories. No Marriott.
Also no working phone, which suggests something about Colombia. In every other poor country we've visited a big city cab driver had a cellphone (in Beijing, the driver located our hotel by simply calling). In any event, we didn't have the phone number for the hotel. No one in the neighborhood had the wit to know how to call information or otherwise resolve the problem, leaving us in a cab stuck in traffic, wondering whether the driver was inept -- or had something more threatening in mind. And we hadn't made things easier for him by miscopying the hotel's address. A perfect storm.
Things got better when we asked the driver to simply find a big hotel and we ended up at a Holiday Inn, where we were referred to the Marriott two blocks away, where we were killed with kindness. In the course of providing us with free drinks and recovering our reservation, they explained it was at a different Marriott and they couldn't switch it because it was paid for via an independent web site.
The story ends on a happy note when they packed us into a cab and sent us to the right hotel, where we were welcomed by a sympathetic staff who'd been alerted by the staff at the wrong Marriott. So we were saved by a lot of nice folks at hotel after being at the mercy of a cab driver who wasn't up to the task and stressing out as we sat in traffic contemplating whether abandoning the cab in an unsophisticated neighborhood was a risk worth taking.
That's one series of mistakes that we won't be making again. On our next trip, we'll try some new mistakes. Trusting a cab driver you have limited ability to communicate with in a city that's totally unfamiliar is a near inevitability on such trips. Sometimes it works fine. Yesterday it didn't. There are usually hopeful locals who come to your rescue. That certainly happened yesterday.
As one who has limited patience with travellers who endlessly recycle their logistical mishaps, I am somewhat uncomfortable sharing it here and can only promise our readers not to retell it when we next meet personally.
Our arrival in Bogota yesterday was punctuated by a series of event that remind us why travel can seem so frustrating as it is happening -- and so much as an edgy adventure in retrospect. It all ended well with us comfortably quartered in an upscale hotel in the city, albeit many hours later than we anticipated.
Things began when we arrived, in the rain, at the hotel where we had reservation. Although located in the center of town, it didn't live up to the promise of its internet description (on the internet anyone you talk to may be a dog and, in the Lake Woebegone tradition, every hotel appears above average. Things ain't always what they seem). So we sat in our unsatisfactory room, logged into the internet and made a reservation (getting a good price for a irrevocable commitment) at a Marriott. We then exited the unsatisfactory hotel as smoothly as possible and had them get a cab for us.
Unfortunately the cab driver wasn't familiar with Marriott hotels and began a very long ride by heading for a location suggested when he misread the address we had written for the Marriott. Our Spanish was adequate to straighten that one out and we then began a long ride that ended up at our designated address, which was in the middle of a commercial and industrial area where no building had more than two stories. No Marriott.
Also no working phone, which suggests something about Colombia. In every other poor country we've visited a big city cab driver had a cellphone (in Beijing, the driver located our hotel by simply calling). In any event, we didn't have the phone number for the hotel. No one in the neighborhood had the wit to know how to call information or otherwise resolve the problem, leaving us in a cab stuck in traffic, wondering whether the driver was inept -- or had something more threatening in mind. And we hadn't made things easier for him by miscopying the hotel's address. A perfect storm.
Things got better when we asked the driver to simply find a big hotel and we ended up at a Holiday Inn, where we were referred to the Marriott two blocks away, where we were killed with kindness. In the course of providing us with free drinks and recovering our reservation, they explained it was at a different Marriott and they couldn't switch it because it was paid for via an independent web site.
The story ends on a happy note when they packed us into a cab and sent us to the right hotel, where we were welcomed by a sympathetic staff who'd been alerted by the staff at the wrong Marriott. So we were saved by a lot of nice folks at hotel after being at the mercy of a cab driver who wasn't up to the task and stressing out as we sat in traffic contemplating whether abandoning the cab in an unsophisticated neighborhood was a risk worth taking.
That's one series of mistakes that we won't be making again. On our next trip, we'll try some new mistakes. Trusting a cab driver you have limited ability to communicate with in a city that's totally unfamiliar is a near inevitability on such trips. Sometimes it works fine. Yesterday it didn't. There are usually hopeful locals who come to your rescue. That certainly happened yesterday.
As one who has limited patience with travellers who endlessly recycle their logistical mishaps, I am somewhat uncomfortable sharing it here and can only promise our readers not to retell it when we next meet personally.
Glad it all worked out, what a long travel day
ReplyDeleteSince I had somewhat parallel experiences in cabs in Costa Rica, which I attributed to my lack of International travel experience, I'm somewhat relieved to find out that even seasoned travelers can have similar tropes! Glad you made it safe and sound, and it confirms that, for the most part, travelling In a foreign country is pretty darn civilized.
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