How Bad Experiences Can Make the Best Travel Memories

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Before I travel, I scroll through perfect pictures and glowing reviews. Everything looks perfect—sunlit balconies, smiling faces, food that’s too pretty to eat. But what I see online rarely matches what really happens when I get there. The truth is, travel also includes missed trains, strange meals, awkward moments, and second thoughts. But guess what? Those bad travel experiences are the stories I remember and re-tell the most. They remind me I was there—not just for the pretty parts, but for the messy, human ones too.

Table of Contents

• When Croatian Teenagers Thought They Were Being Friendly
• The Massage in Bangkok That Wasn’t What I Expected
• That Time I Chewed Octopus for 20 Minutes at Don Fernando’s
• The Gypsy Who Chased Me Through Granada
• The Day Our Passports Disappeared in Mallorca
• When I Missed My Train Back to Oxford—and a Castle Lunch
• Final Thoughts

When Croatian Teenagers Thought They Were Being Friendly

Bad travel experiences often come from misunderstandings. We were walking along the Riva in Split when a group of teenage boys passed us and smiled. One of them raised his hand and casually said, “Hey, niggas!” It stopped me cold. They laughed like they were being friendly, like they saw that on TV and thought it was how you say hello. Maybe it was Yo! MTV Raps or a music video from the ’90s that taught them wrong. I didn’t feel unsafe, just stunned and confused. We kept walking, but it stayed with me. That strange mix of ignorance and innocence is something I’ve never forgotten.

Later that week, we were walking behind the boys and heard a group of Croatian girls giggle about “the cute Black American boys.” It reminded me that travel is full of diverse interactions. Some leave you speechless. Others make you laugh. And many stay with you—not because they were comfortable, but because they were real.
Read the full story → https://duffelbagspouse.com/rent-house-in-croatia

The Massage in Bangkok That Wasn’t What I Expected

I booked a massage in Bangkok, hoping to relax. Instead, I spent the entire session tense. The masseuse crossed every boundary—her hands strayed where they shouldn’t, and she even tried to follow me into the shower afterward. I couldn’t focus, and I definitely couldn’t enjoy it. The whole time, I worried about what might be happening in Steven’s room.

When it was finally over, I rushed to the lobby and found him kicked back with a cold beer, entirely at ease. I waited until we were halfway back to the hotel before I told him what happened.
Read the full story → https://duffelbagspouse.com/must-do-bangkok-8-of-my-favorite-things/

That Time I Chewed Octopus for 20 Minutes at Don Fernando’s

There was no menu. Just Don Fernando himself—a big man in size and presence—wearing an American flag tie. He stood over us and suggested a seafood salad. What came out was a whole raw octopus, glistening and staring up at us.

Steven and I locked eyes. We have to try it, we told ourselves. It was chewy and cold. I took a bite, then he took one. We whispered back and forth, trying to decide how to stop eating it without being impolite. Don must have noticed us struggling, because he came back and plopped down beside me like an old friend. He poured olive oil, salt, and pepper over the creature, sliced off a tentacle, and shoved it into my mouth. I chewed forever. We never finished it.

There was no menu, just a promise to pay. Three courses, two bottles of wine, and three desserts later, we were stuffed. We didn’t know how much anything cost and wondered whether we’d be washing dishes that night. Luckily, it turned out to be more than reasonable. I told everybody who would listen about the jolly, maybe mafia guy. And many people made the trip to visit him over the years. Unfortunately, the restaurant is no longer there in Treviso, just outside of Venice. It remains one of my favorite dinner stories of all time.
Read the full story → https://duffelbagspouse.com/raw-octopus-in-spain

The Gypsy Who Chased Me Through Granada

We overslept and missed our flight to Spain. Then we missed our tour of the Alhambra. On top of that, a gypsy handed me what looked like weeds outside the entrance and insisted I take them. I tried to give them back. She refused. I handed her a few euros, but that only made her angry. She followed me for blocks, yelling in Spanish, demanding more. I walked faster. She kept up. People stared. I didn’t know whether to scream, cry, or run.

Before she turned to go, she gave me a so-called blessing in Spanish—then, to my amazement, told me in perfect English that she had cursed me after I reluctantly gave her some money. I think you have to believe in that kind of thing for it to matter. But still, the whole exchange rattled me. All of it—over a few weeds and a couple of euros. By the time I got away, I was breathless. The flowers wilted in my hand.
Read the full story → https://duffelbagspouse.com/christmas-in-granada-and-the-alhambra-spain/

The Day Our Passports Disappeared in Mallorca

One of my most memorable travel experiences started as downright bad days. We were relaxed. That’s probably why it happened. We let our guard down in a restaurant on our last day in Spain. When we reached for our passports, they were gone. Stolen. And it was a holiday weekend. There was no embassy on the island. We couldn’t leave. We had to stay three more days, then fly to Barcelona to get temporary documents. Everything took longer than it should have. What should’ve been an easy end to our trip turned into days of stress and waiting.

At the passport office in Barcelona, one of the clerks told us about a New York City cop who had his passport stolen twice—both times in Barcelona. The second time, they told him to go home. “You’re out of your element,” they said. And they were right. It doesn’t matter how smart or tough you are—anyone can get robbed. All it takes is one moment when your guard is down. That trip was a reminder: stay alert, trust your instincts, and never assume it can’t happen to you.
Read the full story → https://duffelbagspouse.com/passports-stolen-in-mallorca/

When I Missed My Train Back to Oxford—and a Castle Lunch

During my study abroad at Oxford, I took the train to Paris. It was a perfect day—pastries, art, slow walks along the Seine. But I forgot to set my watch forward. This was before cell phones reminded you. I missed my train back to London. I had to pay for a cheap hotel near Gare du Nord and spend the night alone in a part of the city that didn’t feel charming after dark.

The next day, I missed my class trip to the Cotswolds, including lunch at a castle I’d been looking forward to. I got to see a lot of Paris in those 24 hours. That extra night taught me something—travel isn’t always about what you see. Sometimes it’s about how you handle what goes wrong.
Read the full story → https://duffelbagspouse.com/the-first-time-i-saw-paris/

Final Thoughts

I don’t expect travel to be perfect. I don’t welcome discomfort, but I’ve stopped being surprised when it shows up. I’ve had bad travel experiences that later became my favorite stories to share. These stories didn’t feel funny or memorable when they were happening. They felt messy, awkward, even a little frightening. But now, I see them differently. I’ve learned not to stay stuck in my first reaction. I’ve learned to shift—from perception to perspective. Bad moments during travel experiences can teach more than a guidebook ever could. These moments remind me that travel isn’t about avoiding vulnerability. It’s about what you do with it when it comes.

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