Searching — or chasing after — David* became an almost daily event; often much to the embarrassment of his organised and punctual wife. We suffered mild associated embarrassment as he was also a New Zealander among an otherwise diverse group of nationalities.
At first the group thought his random rambles were the result of an inquiring mind. But we eventually discovered there was no rhyme or reason for his meanderings. He just liked to do his own thing.
However, had it not been for his mindful spouse, he might well have missed the bus totally at some point.
And while David's penchant for going walkabout was merely an irritant, there can be a serious side to the listen-to-your-guide routine: We were told that only a few months before we experienced an overnight Sahara camp on the Morocco trip, a young Australian woman had, against the guide's advice, left from a campsite on a solo photo-shoot, become lost as a sudden sandstorm whirled through, and perished.
Relaying the Morocco recollection to an acquaintance recently, led to an anecdote in return about a group tour to Pisa. In this case a full coach-load was told by the group leader before they disembarked for their walk to the famous leaning tower that they must be on time for their pick-up from the same spot as each coach was allowed only limited parking time.
Came the designated rendezvous time and the usual head count on the coach and five of the multinational group — a couple from Asia and three young women from Central and South America — were absent. The leader gave them several minutes and then another extension of time before deciding the coach would have to go without them, in the process turning down an offer from an Australian man to go and search for them — she explained she didn't want to end up with six missing group members!
The coach tour continued without them, through northern Italy and across the border into the south of France. As the rest of the group sat down to dinner at their hotel, the famous five finally appeared, to spontaneous applause and cheers. Wisely, the tour leader had insisted each day that each member of the party had to carry with them a copy of the itinerary — the absentees were able to reunite with the rest of the travellers, albeit at additional cost to themselves.
We had a hold-up of a different sort when our overland Baltic states tour came to enter Russian territory from Finland, about 40km north of Vyborg on the highway en route to St Petersburg. Our Latvian tour leader went to some length to ensure we did not get caught up at the border by creating any issues with the archetypally stern Russian immigration officials. "Keep a straight face; no joking. And answer any questions as straightforwardly as you can."
One by one, we all passed through without any delays — until we realised there was one group member missing: A Bulgarian emigre now living in the US and holding an American passport. Vladimir* was raised in Bulgaria when it was part of the Soviet-controlled bloc and was fluent in Russian. His familiarity with the language had been handy during the trip as he found things quicker and more cheaply than we did.
So he decided to chat with the border officials in Russian, believing this would give him a smoother passage through the control point. Alas, instead it only raised their suspicions and he underwent a thorough interrogation. He eventually emerged 90 minutes later to rejoin a party of none-too-happy campers.
I too have been guilty of straggling. I put it down to an inquisitive mind and seeking the last bit of minutiae so I can write a more informed caption for that special, quirky photo.
Whatever, the moral of the story for people undertaking a tour is: Listen to your leader.
* Names have been changed
