When Plan A Falls Apart: A Summer Story of Family, Faith, and Ferry Tickets
This summer, we took a trip that turned into something far more memorable than any of us could have planned. Two of our three children, now grown — joined us for an adventure across the South of France and Italy. What was meant to be a relaxing holiday became a journey of mishaps, unexpected turns, and some of the most profound lessons in grace, teamwork, and family.
We were based in Nice and decided on a spontaneous day trip to the glamorous St. Tropez. We drove to a little port town called St. Maxime, then caught a ferry across the water. We arrived late and, in a burst of spontaneity, decided to stay the night. We shopped, strolled, and soaked up the beauty, until the Airbnb host called.
“You were meant to check out at 10 a.m.”
Cue the panic. Our bags were still in Nice, two and a half hours away, and it was Sunday. Ferries weren’t running. We scrambled into an Uber, raced to St. Maxime, grabbed the hire car, and drove like maniacs back to Nice. But the city was blocked off due to a climate conference. We parked far away, walked in the heat, packed in a rush, and then dragged heavy suitcases through Nice’s sun-drenched streets. We were tired, hungry, and completely frazzled.
That night, we booked a last-minute hotel and crashed. The next day, we were off to the Amalfi Coast — or so we thought. Our flight was cancelled. Completely. No plan, no direction. We had paid for a beautiful hotel in Amalfi and didn’t want to waste the time. So we pivoted fast, booked trains, and began what would be a 17-hour journey across countries, involving multiple connections.
One stop felt like we had arrived in a rural Gokwe — quiet, remote, and totally off-grid. But it was there we found the best pizza we’d ever tasted and the kindness of strangers who helped carry our bags. On the train, our son Tino had accidentally booked tickets for the wrong day. In France and Italy, ticket inspectors travel with police, armed. It was nerve-wracking, but after Tino explained our chaotic day, the conductor kindly helped us out.
After more delays, swollen feet, heavy luggage, and very little sleep, we finally reached Naples. Then came a two-hour ferry to Amalfi. My legs were so swollen I could hardly move, but my heart was full. Muchada and Tino were heroes, carrying our bags without complaint. Tasha stayed cheerful, and Tanaka, who hadn’t travelled with us, called constantly, checking in, encouraging, and guiding us from afar.
Tanaka is our family’s natural organiser. He usually checks dates, tracks spending, oversees logistics, and his absence was felt. We kept saying, “Tanaka wouldn’t have liked this.” He’s a peace-lover who avoids chaos, and this trip was chaos. But he stayed connected from afar, making sure we were okay every step of the way.
There were so many moments we didn’t post online. Not the panicked ferry dash. Not the ticket booth confusion. Not the swollen feet or jumping ticket barriers. On social media, we post cappuccinos and sunsets — but the real stories, the ones we’ll tell our grandchildren, come from the chaos we don’t share.
Here’s what this trip taught us:
• Growth doesn’t happen in the highlight reels. It happens in the in- between, the messy middle.
• Kindness is still alive in this world, in conductors, pizza makers, and strangers who lend a hand.
• Grace shows up off-script, when things fall apart.
• Family is forged in moments of frustration, laughter, and love.
• You need a pack of cards, a flexible mindset, and fast feet, always.
• Life is big. The world is vast. And we are so small, yet so deeply cared for by a faithful God.
This wasn’t the trip we planned, but it was the trip we needed. We were reminded that when Plan A collapses, Plan B unfolds, sometimes more beautifully than we could ever imagine.
