By Erica

Last month, my friend Sande and I met a group of fabulous folks and walked on the rocky trails of Mallorca. There was a lot of conversation about other trips that made my travel glands salivate. Gorillas in Rwanda. Retreats in India. Ceramics in Japan. What made our Mallorca trip so memorable, though, was not only what went right (like the views and the people and the food and the hotels), but also what went wrong.

As soon as we arrived in Mallorca, it was apparent that Sande’s luggage had not accompanied her. It was obviously lost but neither the small airline on which we flew or the larger one that handled the baggage seemed to have a clue where it might be. Not to worry, they would give us a call when they located it. Sande understandably assumed it was lost forever.

Needless to say, this was upsetting. Not only did the bag contain favorite items of clothing but also, as you might expect, walking trips require very particular gear. Broken-in shoes guaranteed not to give you blisters. Socks in service of that same goal. Layers to take you from morning chill to hot afternoon sun, all with the ability to wrap around your waist with minimal weight. Fanny packs to hold your water and your stuff.

The day passed. We called. They knew nothing, but would keep us posted. We called again. No information, no clue. We found a shoe store. We met for dinner and made a conscious decision (harder for Sande than me, for sure) not to let this ruin our trip. We would figure it out. We’re close to the same size. The next day, we started walking, laughing and speculating about what else could go wrong.

Good news, they found the bag. Bad news, on that same first day, I tripped and fell. Good news, I didn’t think I broke anything (later confirmed when I got home). Bad news, one half of my face and neck swelled and turned black and blue. One hand could do longer hold a walking stick. My ribs were sore. And, most mortifyingly, I didn’t fall on the hard rocky uphill part of the trails. No, I traversed those with ease. I fell when the trail flattened out and became less rocky. Picked my head up, lost focus, and WHAM! Not even a good story.

Four more days of walking to go. All of our fellow travelers were kind and caring, and having two doctors in the group certainly provided additional comfort. But, I could not under any circumstances let this fall ruin the trip-- for me, for Sande or for anyone else.

Complaining, of course, and dwelling on the color of my face, was out of the question. I knew I had to keep going—and to be comfortable with being last at the back of the pack. That was a bit harder to accept. But since Sande and I are at least a decade older than our fellow walkers, my determination to defy stereotypes and expectations undoubtedly helped propel me forward. Finally, one just had to laugh. There was no makeup that was going to hide my bruises or make me look glamorous in those group shots. Or at our lovely dinners. So, I just went with it. It was the only option. Laughter is the best medicine anyway.

Lessons learned. The people you meet and travel with make all the difference. Resilience and humor can never be underestimated.

But we already knew that. Just need to keep putting it into practice. (Though perhaps we could skip the face plant next time…)