I went to Switzerland, everything went wrong

We all have disastrous trips, even the most seasoned travellers visiting countries that are renowned for their efficiency can come unstuck. But, as they say, every cloud has a silver-lining.

Despite best-laid plans we all have travel days when nothing seems to go right. Still, I was surprised my latest fiasco happened mostly in Switzerland, a country previously known for its clockwork efficiency.

Things started to unravel in Marseille as I waited for an airport Uber. The driver, Roger, messaged to say he couldn’t reach me due to a “44,000-tonne truck” blocking the road (tonnage may be approximate).

This was grim news. There was only one way in to the house where I was staying, but my quick-thinking friend, Saint Francesco of Marseille, bundled me into his Mini and raced downhill to where Roger’s sporty Toyota was stranded in convoy. With some nifty manoeuvring we switched cars and I was airport-bound. First obstacle averted.

Second one pending… My Swiss Air flight was delayed, triggering a sequence of unfortunate events. We were due to touch down in Zurich 30 minutes late at 4.20pm. I figured this might give me just enough time to make my pre-booked train to Saint Moritz at 5.03pm. But only if everything went to plan. Which, being Switzerland, I assumed it would.

Things started to unravel in Marseille as I waited for an airport Uber.

It didn’t. The flight landed on (revised) time and emptied swiftly. The carousel screen said our bags would be out in four minutes.

They weren’t. My case arrived 20 minutes later. I dashed to the airport’s underground station and boarded a train to Zurich Central knowing I’d miss my onward connection.

At Hauptbahnhof station a kind but firm man told me I’d have to buy another very expensive ticket because my $140 one was what the Swiss call a “super saver” and couldn’t be exchanged. On the plus side, I’d still make it to the mountains that night.

After all the mad dashing I was busting when I boarded the train. The WC in my carriage was broken so I parked my case by a seat at the far end then ran along the platform to find a working loo.

At Hauptbahnhof station a kind but firm man told me I’d have to buy another very expensive ticket.

I know – stupid of me. But I was hot and tired and not thinking clearly. We all have those days, don’t we?

In my rush I’d forgotten which carriage I’d left the bag in. It wasn’t in the first one I tried. At the second I asked the passengers sitting in “my” seat if they’d seen my luggage. They answered me in Romansh. Unhelpful. Then the train left the platform.

I tried not to laugh. There I was, bound for the smartest hotel in the Swiss Alps, Kulm Hotel, with no clothes but the very summery ones I had on.

Pause. Think logically. My compartment’s the one with the busted loo. Find that and you’ll know where your bag was.

There I was, bound for the smartest hotel in the Swiss Alps, Kulm Hotel, with no clothes but the very summery ones I had on.

I found it. A young mother, her baby and pram were ensconced. Thankfully she spoke English. I asked if she’d seen a big black bag that was, until recently, right here.

Oh, she smiled, it’s there. And pointed between two seats where it had been stashed out of sight. Phew – but also, who does that?

I settled anxiously into an empty seat opposite a Swiss woman with strong school-principal vibes. She did not look up.

After 30 minutes fiddling frantically with my phone – missing much of the breathtaking World Heritage scenery of the Albula Line – I realised my European SIM wasn’t working because Switzerland is, famously, not part of the EU. The train had no Wi-Fi either.

I realised my European SIM wasn’t working because Switzerland is not part of the EU. The train had no Wi-Fi either.

But I had to let the hotel know I’d be late. They had a driver waiting for me at Saint Moritz station and, besides, it’s good manners.

The only solution was to switch to my home SIM but I didn’t have anything small and pointy enough. Meanwhile, the headmistress was busy marking paperwork and I thought surely she must have a paperclip.

She looked so stern and unwelcoming, but eventually the prospect of being thought rude – or, even worse, pathetic – by hotel staff made me greet her and explain my situation.

She didn’t have a paper-clip, she was sorry, but pointed to some stapled pages and asked, “Would this work?”

She and I chatted brightly about Australia and her weekend plans to mountain-bike in the Alps.

It just might! She winkled one out and handed it to me and, after very careful concentration, the SIM port on my phone popped out. Saved by a staple.

She looked as delighted as I did. After I’d called the hotel and explained my situation she and I chatted brightly about Australia and her weekend plans to mountain-bike in the Alps. (Never judge a book by its cover.)

By the time we parted we’d both, I think, had a nice interaction. And she’d made a huge difference to my stressed situation with such a little thing – the smallest of gestures. Sometimes that’s all it takes to turn someone’s day around.

Originally published as I went to Switzerland, everything went wrong