A month after my whirlwind travel booking, I was on an overnight flight from Ottawa to Frankfurt, where I would get my connecting flight to Lisbon, the start-off point of this pilgrimage. From there, our tour group would head north to Fatima and Braga, then cross the border to north-western Spain and spend time in Santiago de Compostela. Then, we would travel east to Burgos and Spain's Basque country and onwards to southwestern France. We would cross the border again to go back to Spain and explore Barcelona, Zaragoza, Madrid, and Avila. At the end of the tour, I ventured further to Toledo.
I chose to fly via Air Canada and then via Lufthansa whose main hub is in Frankfurt. I could have gone on a British Airways flight with a layover at London Heathrow. But I wanted to have the option of getting out of the airport and going somewhere for a few hours without worrying about missing my connecting flight due to distance and traffic conditions. I knew this was not possible in London since the airport is quite far from downtown and traffic at any time of the day is always bad, whereas, at the Frankfurt airport, there is an underground railway station that conveniently connects to downtown and other regional destinations.
Little did I know that a hint of humour from heaven was waiting for me in Frankfurt (and please bear with me as I share the story, as I may sound a little bit unkind, but just take it with a spirit of lighthearted fun...after all, I am only human, who is susceptible to frustration and exasperation when the wrong buttons are pushed).
My original plan was to board the airport train as soon as I landed. I wanted to visit Mainz, a quaint little city fifteen minutes away by train on the S-Bahn line. A six-hour layover should provide me with a considerable amount of time to spend there. When I was in Frankfurt three years ago on a much longer layover, I took the train to explore the downtown core and the Romerberg area. That time, I had an entire day in my hands before my evening flight to Johannesburg, but I didn’t get the chance to see Mainz, which I heard is steeped in history and filled with magnificent buildings, attractive squares, beautifully-restored half-timbered German houses, and Roman ruins.
However, when I arrived at the airport, I saw how busy it was with long line-ups everywhere. I elected not to venture outside. I didn’t want to take my chances and miss my flight to Lisbon. In hindsight, I think something was trying to make me stay in order for me to discover something.
I ended up spending the entire morning and the early afternoon at the airport, which I didn’t mind at all, for there was plenty to do. The Frankfurt airport is a huge complex of terminals teeming with shops, boutiques, spas, restaurants, coffee shops, bakeries, a supermarket, as well as other passenger services such as banks, money exchange centres, printer centre, storage rooms, prayer rooms, post office, dry cleaners, shower rooms, and even a dog hotel and a wedding venue. It's one of my preferred layover airports in Europe because of the options it provides.
After clearing transit security, I found a quiet spot at a nice bistro, bought myself a small meal - bratwurst paired with two slices of German rye bread and an extra-large cup of cappuccino - and enjoyed my brunch while reading a book. As the place slowly filled-up, I got into an interesting conversation with a family of five who sat beside me. They were travelling from Brisbane to attend a family wedding at the husband’s hometown near Krakow. Their three teenage kids had never been to Poland, the family had never been to Canada or the Philippines, and I had never been to Australia, but we’d all visited other places, so our conversation revolved around tales of travel adventures and touring tips, as well as invitations to our respective countries.
After I said goodbye to them, I wandered around for the next few hours to do some window-shopping. When my feet started to get sore, I headed to the area near my next flight’s gate. I bought a pretzel, a small salad, and bottled water from this German bakery that claims to make the best pretzels. I couldn’t resist getting a small pastry for dessert because their glass counter was also filled with tantalizing treats. One thing I like about Germany is the proliferation of pastry shops with freshly-baked goodies everywhere you go. This airport has one in every corner.
My gate had a cozy dining area with a glass wall facing the tarmac. I decided to spend the rest of my waiting time there since my feet refused to do any more gallivanting around. I sat on a corner, ate my lunch, and alternately read my book and watched the comings and goings of planes outside. I thought about my husband and son whom I left behind. It was night time back home and they were most probably already fast asleep. I was on a video call with them a few minutes before boarding at the Ottawa airport and while talking to my little boy, I showed him the airplanes right outside the glass windows which made him very excited. I started to feel homesick already. I was missing my boys.
But just like in TV drama shows, there came the surprise (and this is the part with the foreboding musical score...)
Somewhere in the middle of my reverie, I heard a commotion from behind. I followed the sound and saw a short procession of elderly Filipinos being shepherded by this petite lady whose loud voice didn’t match her stature (and if this were a TV show, this is the part where the camera zooms in slowly to this lady).
I looked closer and noticed they all had name tags, with the lady ring leader’s being the largest, identifying her as the “Tour Director.” She approached the Lufthansa attendant at the counter, asked a few questions, and herded her flock away while announcing they would come back after twenty minutes and then barking some more orders to her companions. She somehow reminded me of a former co-worker, who was also from the Philippines. They had the same height, hairstyle, voice, and somewhat pompous attitude. The mere sight of her gave me the shivers. As you may have guessed, my experience with that particular colleague was not exactly pleasant (This is the part where the foreboding background music gets louder before fading away.)
Alarm bells rang in my head and I started to have an uncomfortable premonition. “Oh no!” I said to myself. Were they going to be on the same flight as mine? It had occurred to me that if they were going to Portugal, they must be going on a religious pilgrimage just like me...for why else would a group of Filipinos fly to Lisbon? Filipinos are mostly Catholics and are devotees of Our Lady of Fatima, whose shrine is in Portugal.
I looked around and noticed that most of the other waiting passengers were Portuguese people. From their conversations and my own observations, I deduced that most of them were going back home from a trip abroad. Some were from other countries visiting family in their old country. A few were tourists talking about spending time at the beach. I suspected that the Filipino group could not be calling on relatives or just intending to soak up the sun at a seaside town. And if they were indeed going on a pilgrimage, were they with the same tour company as mine? (This is the part when the camera slowly zooms in on me and stays for a few seconds while I furrow my eyebrows and squint my eyes in deep thought.)
I muttered a short prayer…actually a remark to God in jest. I said to Him, “Dear God, I thought you wanted me to have some quiet time? I thought you were sending me on this pilgrimage so I could do some soul-searching in silence? I thought you were going to give me some peace of mind on this trip? I thought I'd be meeting fellow soul-searchers on this trip? Why are you sending me a 'potential villain' now?” But I also shrugged my shoulders and sighed. On several occasions, God had certainly shown me His humorous side. He must be in the mood to throw me another joke…or He must have been thinking I could use some kind of challenge on this trip.
After twenty minutes, the Filipino group did come back and they formed a line in front of the counter even though boarding had not yet been announced. Since I was sitting at the far corner, I couldn’t read what was written on top of their name tags but I saw a logo that didn’t look similar to the logo of my tour company. I had somehow hoped that maybe, they were on a different tour after all. Still, that uneasy feeling lingered. The negative vibes from their lady ring leader bugged me.
Inside the plane, I was almost convinced that this was a set-up especially for me…a perfectly choreographed set-up. As soon as I got to my seat, I saw Ms. Lady Ring Leader sitting right behind me. “Oh, no!” But I managed to smile at her and the couple sitting beside her. They smiled back but we didn’t start a conversation because I got busy settling in and helping the elderly gentleman who was supposed to sit in my row. It turned out no one took the seat in the middle. I was on the window seat and the gentleman was on the aisle seat. I surmised he was travelling alone and since he walked with a cane and moved with difficulty, I introduced myself and told him to let me know if he needed help with anything.
My seatmate read a magazine and slept for most of the flight. I watched a short movie and read my book. But I found it hard to concentrate because Ms. Lady Ring Leader behind me wouldn’t stop talking…loud! If she was not giving unsolicited instructions to the rest of her group sitting in close proximity to her but scattered among several rows (which made everyone else in the vicinity look at her), she was yapping to her seatmates about their previous travels. In the two-hour flight from Frankfurt to Lisbon, I had listened to the litany of places they had visited, the different airlines they had traveled on (complete with a detailed comparison of their in-flight meals and services), the dos and don’ts of travelling, and what they were supposed to do when they landed in Lisbon, among other things. I wondered how her travel mates felt about this barrage of information, or if they even minded being treated like kindergarten kids on a school field trip. It had seemed like she was performing for an audience - for the rest of us passengers within hearing range, as if she wanted to demonstrate her expertise in the field of travelling and let people know how much of a seasoned traveler she was.
The more she talked, the more I remembered my former co-worker who often emphasized in every opportune time how she is not in the same league as most Filipino immigrants in Vancouver. She would humble brag about belonging to a well-to-do family, about owning a huge house in an exclusive subdivision in one of the most affluent areas of Metro Manila (with famous celebrities for neighbors), about holding a high position with an equally-prestigious title at a national company, about sending her children to Europe for post-graduate studies, and about hobnobbing with the rich and famous in Philippine high society when she was still there, and so on and so forth.
I wondered if these two women were in fact, twin sisters separated at birth (another popular TV soap opera plotline), or long-lost soul mates. After all, they look so much alike. I pictured them together, talking simultaneously, and displaying their credentials side-by-side to anyone who would pay attention. It was such an amusing scenario. At that point though, I just wanted Ms. Lady Ring Leader to shut up. I, of course, prayed silently (asking God to grant me patience and tolerance), instead of actually telling her to shut up.
At the Lisbon Airport, I got the chance to chat with some of her companions (who, by the way, were very nice people) by the carousel while waiting for our luggage. By then, my worst fears had been confirmed. We were indeed going on the same tour! The only difference was that I booked directly with the tour operator. They, on the other hand, booked an all-inclusive package from Ms. Lady Ring Leader’s travel agency, which she just booked directly with the tour operator, but with the added bonus of her “personalized” guidance all throughout the tour. That, to me, just meant she would travel along with them…for free. That was why, instead of the tour operator’s logo, she had the logo of her own company displayed on the name tags of her clients.
I was a little bit skeptical of that arrangement because the tour company already has a roster of Tour Directors for every trip that they offer, and it deals with authorized travel agencies that sell their tours without the need to have a go-between. Perhaps, she used some sort of "bring your friends" promo (i.e., you get a free tour if you invite at least five or more fellow travelers).
I guess these elderly folks were more at ease knowing that someone who speaks their native language will be there for them from the moment they board the airplane to their safe arrival home after the trip. Oh well! I must hand it to this lady for creating her own business niche and finding her target market.
We were met by the official Tour Director at the airport lobby, right after clearing customs. He was holding a sign with the tour operator’s name and logo. He instructed us to wait for him outside the main entrance because he had to meet some more tour members arriving in the next flight.
As we assembled outside, I chatted some more with the group. I found most of them very welcoming. They even volunteered to take my picture and invited me to join them in their group shot.
But Ms. Lady Ring Leader wasn’t too happy when she saw me socializing with her travel mates. She made it a point to let everyone know that I was NOT her client and I did NOT belong to their group. I was in an awkward position because everyone else on our flight…and the few others on the next flight were part of her group. And since we all took the same shuttle to the hotel, it felt like being on a school bus with kids from another school. For the duration of the ride, they bantered and threw private jokes at each other. I just sat quietly and occasionally talked with my seatmate, who, despite being part of that group, made an effort to make me feel I belonged. She was an elderly lady traveling by herself.
That evening, during our meet-and-greet/orientation session at one of the hotel’s conference rooms, I was relieved to see the other members of this tour group. We were 40 in total, with 20 being part of Ms. Lady Ring Leader’s party. The other tourists were mostly couples and small families from the United States and Australia. I found out there were three other ladies travelling solo – a teacher from Maryland, a librarian from Colorado, and a fellow Filipino-Canadian who was from Edmonton. It was funny that we were actually all sitting on the same row during the orientation. We agreed to have dinner together that night and to hang out as a group, since we were all travelling alone.
I uttered a short thanksgiving prayer. I met some promising tour amigas. I found my small tribe. At least, I would not have to hang out with Ms. Lady Ring Leader, who, by the way, rudely pulled away an audio kit from me as she was helping the Tour Director distribute them after the meeting. She made it quite clear that she was handing them ONLY to her clients. I was surprised by her “kind gesture” but chose to ignore it and instead took another one from our “official” Tour Director. I didn’t want her seeming lack of manners to affect me in any way. Bad actions attract bad karma, I said to myself. I also reminded myself that I was on a religious tour and that I should be good. Sigh! This was going to be difficult.
As if to console me, I was given another blessing. I ended up getting my own room at no extra charge because the other three solo travelers paid for single occupancy (and I'm the cheap solo traveler who never bothers to pay for single occupancy). Since there was no other female solo traveler to pair me up with, the Tour Director said I could have my own for free. What a blessing indeed! After the events of the day, I surmised that the next few days would be as full of excitement, and that having my own private space every night would definitely give me the respite I would need. I did not expect this wonderful bonus, and I was truly grateful.
I should mention that the nice lady who belonged to Ms. Lady Ring Leader’s group and who sat beside me on the shuttle earlier asked me that afternoon if I would like to be her roommate, since she was travelling solo. I told her that I wouldn’t mind, but that it was for the Tour Director to decide on.
As I was given my own room, she was obviously not paired with me. Apparently, because their party of 20 was considered a single unit, they had their own rooming arrangements and the Tour Director didn’t want to pair any of them off with travelers outside their group. I found out afterwards that she was assigned to a room shared with another lady from her group, plus Ms. Lady Ring Leader. I could tell she wasn’t too happy about being stuck in a room for three for the entire trip, especially when she learned I was sleeping solo for the entire tour. I felt so sorry for her, but I guess we had to follow the Tour Director’s rules.
As we squeezed in the elevator on our way to our quarters, I heard her ask Ms. Lady Ring Leader why she was not given her own room just like me. The grand lady shot me an icy look and in a very snooty tone said, “I’m sure our Tour Director will find a roommate for her in the next few days,” then quickly changed the topic. I could feel her dislike for me growing by the minute.
That same night, on that very same elevator, I met a couple of her regular clients from Los Angeles, who had arrived earlier that day and had their rooms on the same floor. I was on my way to the lobby to meet my new travel amigas for dinner. Ms. Lady Ring Leader joined us on the elevator as I was happily chatting with the couple. The L.A. lady casually said to Ms. Lady Ring Leader, “Oh, it is nice to see new members in this group,” to which she sharply retorted, “She is NOT part of our group. She is NOT my client,” then started telling her about their dinner plans and completely ignoring me as if I were a fly on the wall. Oh, I was so glad I wasn’t having dinner with her.
At the lobby, my new Filipina amiga warned me about Ms. Lady Ring Leader. Apparently, she also had a not-so-friendly encounter with her earlier. "Let me guess," I said, "It's because you are NOT her client." And she laughed.
My new friend told me that our favourite lady did not appear amused when she learned that she hails from the same city and is actually familiar with her travel agency, yet chose not to book the tour with her. When she politely expressed that she's not interested in signing up with her for future tours, Ms. Lady Ring Leader started acting rude to her.
To give me some context, my amiga explained that Ms. Lady Ring Leader's company specializes in tours targeted at the retiree market and that majority of those are casino or beach resort tours, with a sprinkling of cultural tours. She did not even expect her to do a religious tour, so seeing her here was a surprise to her. She added (with a wink) that since she is used to solo traveling, she did not really need the "personalized service" offered by Ms. Lady Ring Leader. I joked that our favourite lady must hate her more than me. She laughed and said that Ms. Lady Ring Leader generally doesn't like the idea of having other compatriots in the same tour group that she cannot boss around. But we both agreed that it's not worth it to let her disdain for us affect our trip.
I went with my new-found friends to a non-descript restaurant on an even more non-descript street a few blocks away from our hotel, which was located off the downtown core. We wouldn’t have known about this place had we not asked our Tour Director for a recommendation.
It was a small seafood store with a bar area on one side, where local men gather to drink beer, eat some seafood appetizers, and watch soccer on the overhead TV. The small restaurant consisting of less than ten tables was at the basement, which the owner had to re-open when we arrived. At first, it was just us, four solo ladies, but along the way, we saw some of our tour mates (not Ms. Lady Ring Leader’s group) who were also looking for a place to eat and they decided to join us. The beer-drinking guys at the counter eyed us with amusement for we looked like a bunch of lost and hungry puppies that stumbled upon this non-touristy area of Lisbon.
The menu was mainly seafood, which was what we had expected because of the store upstairs, and it was written entirely in Portuguese. The owner didn’t speak much English but it was easy to understand that all the dishes were made to order (fresh seafood from his store, grilled and served with rice and vegetables) and that it would take some time to prepare our meal since his restaurant staff had gone home early (it was Sunday) and it was only him and his wife left. We said it was alright since we weren’t in a hurry. We all opted for the grilled salmon and some chowder. While waiting, we amused ourselves by trying to translate each of the items on the Portuguese menu into English.
The dinner was certainly worth the wait. The salmon portions were generous. They were succulent and grilled to absolute perfection. The vegetables were sweet and crisp and the steaming hot, fragrant white rice complemented the flavorful array of fresh food. The chowder was sublime, with just the right amount of creaminess, tender flakes of white fish, and bigger-than-normal chunks of clam meat. It was rich and comforting.
This was a superb meal to end a long day of travel and to welcome us to a promising pilgrimage ahead. Tomorrow, we would begin.
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