Voyassitude

“You were supposed to have a red flag, right?” asks one of the tourists.

“Yeah, sorry, I forgot it at home,” replies the tour guide. Perhaps that’s the first red flag about what’s to come.

Square Jan Palach. 3 p.m. You wouldn’t believe the shades of gold painting this bright Saturday afternoon in Luxembourg City. Electricity is in the air, spring seems to have started already, and life is full of possibilities. Nothing can go wrong. At least until the worst tour in the world begins.

Let’s start by saying he was late. At 3 o’clock a bunch of tourists (myself included) exchanged awkward looks, silently asking if that indeed was the meeting location for the free walking tour. Just because it was free it wasn’t meant to be a disaster, since reviews online were mostly positive.

But yeah, our tour guide showed up fifteen minutes late. He didn’t wear or carry any tour apparel as he was supposed to, wearing instead a dark blazer with a few food stains on a sleeve and a grey stubble. He stood next to the Monument to Dicks and Lentz, wringing his hands as he introduced himself to the more than fifteen tourists in the group before starting a lengthy explanation about the monument beside him.

He then guided us to the City Kiosque at Place d’Armes, a bustling square where hundreds of people took in the fresh weather accompanied by a snack or a drink. Noise came from all directions, but our tour guide raised his voice just enough for most of us to hear what would become a whole speech on the history of the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg. Seriously, he spat out so many dates and historical facts that it became impossible to memorize one, amalgamated as they were into an unintelligible mass of times gone by.

After twenty minutes or so we moved on to a new location where the same thing happened again: the guide stood by a famous building to detail its importance,  throwing a whole lecture that by the end had most of us impatiently checking the time.

From there we marched to William Square, which was even more hectic than Place d’Armes. There were shows going on, kids running around, and even nearby protests in favor of Palestine. Our marvelous tour guide, God bless him, took us next to a statue to explain the significance of King William II as not far from us a band played their drums and trombones. It was impossible to hear a word the guide spoke. However, he didn’t think it appropriate to move a little so we could listen to yet another of his infinite speeches! No, he talked and talked for more than ten minutes as music reverberated through the whole square, drowning the voice of this guy who’d seemed to never have done a tour before. It was comedic at times but painfully embarrassing as well. At one point he stopped mid-sentence to throw a frustrated glance in the band’s direction, only to resume his speech as if nothing could be done. By then most of the group didn’t attempt to hide their lack of interest, frustration or disbelief.

And me, I was fed up.  It was only 4 p.m. but it felt as if I had wasted all day on a terrible tour with an amateur guide who lacked the basics of how to conduct an engaging experience. Everything around me was glorious and yet there I was, feeling miserable and trapped in an activity that kept me from enjoying the liveliness surrouding me. As soon as we started moving again, I got to the guide and made up a lie about having to leave right away. I felt bad, but I couldn’t have handled another hour of that.

On a free tour you are supposed to tip the guide, right? Well, I didn’t want to give a single penny for such a clusterfuck, I felt terrible at the idea of just leaving like that without handing anything, especially since most people on the group saw me (and envied me) as I said goodbye to the guy. So I gave him five euros and his silent, furious look at me is still imprinted in my mind, perhaps the most amusing moment in a very dull afternoon with him.

I don’t regret it, though. I saved myself an hour of torture. I immediately went to rent a bike to enjoy the day pedaling through some of the scenic parks of Luxembourg. Because, in spite of the worst tour in the world, Luxembourg still was the most wonderful place to be in.