My Craziest Travel Experience

In a few hours, I’ll be arriving in Lisbon for the first time in almost 14 years. The last time I was there, I had an experience I’ll never forget!

While time can alter memories, I’ve done my best not to embellish anything and have referred to an email I wrote to friends back in Australia in the days following to ensure it’s as accurate as possible. With that disclaimer out of the way, here we go…

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It was May 2009, a month prior I had left Australia on a one-way ticket to Europe. This was my first backpacking adventure and I’d booked nothing more than an initial night at a hostel.

I was travelling solo and after a week partying in the southern beachside town of Lagos in Portugal, I’d taken a train to Lisbon where I intended to spend three nights before moving onto Spain.

I was keen to see as much of Lisbon as possible and on my second day in the city, I jumped on a hop on, hop off bus where I met three Australian girls. They were a friendly bunch and invited me to head out on the town with them that night.

None of us knew the city and the first few bars we visited were all very quiet, so we hailed a taxi and asked to be taken wherever the action was. This resulted in us being taken down to Lisbon’s port area – a lively spot that kept us entertained until the early hours of the morning.

We partied until about 2:30 am at which point two of the girls left, leaving me and a girl called Natalie to continue enjoying the night. At 4:00 am we decided we had spent enough time at the club and came up with the idea of walking across one of Lisbon’s iconic bridges to watch the sunrise from a massive Jesus statue that towers over the city. A rather ambitious plan in hindsight.

After walking for 20-30 minutes, we had almost made it to the bridge, only to discover we couldn’t actually get on there. Tired and ready to sleep, we gave up on the idea and decided it was best to call it a night. We continued to aimlessly walk in the hope of finding a taxi, but it was to no avail. Unfortunately Uber didn’t exist back then and I rarely went out with my phone at night.

Eventually, we came across a petrol station, which was deserted except for two Portuguese guys who were filling up their rather run-down car with fuel. They were both in their thirties and only one of them spoke English. He seemed very friendly and I recall talking to him about his love of coaching tennis. He suggested we buy them each a beer and they’d take us back to our hostels. Exhausted and with no other obvious options (and judgement possibly slightly impaired after a few drinks), we purchased the beers for them and hopped into their car.

Soon after we started the drive, the two of them started conversing in Portuguese before the guy that spoke English (who was in the front passenger seat) informed us that they needed to pick up a friend on the way. We weren’t happy about it but were hardly in a position to protest! Five minutes later, we pulled up to a small house in a quiet neighbourhood and their friend got into the back of the car with us. He was wearing a hoodie and didn’t say a word.

We hadn’t travelled far and knew that the drive to the hostel couldn’t be more than 10 minutes or so and we expected it to be through semi-populated areas. However, two minutes into the journey we found ourselves driving on a deserted service road that ran parallel to the highway.

Natalie and I looked at each other and we could both sense something wasn’t right. She spoke up and asked where we were going, pointing out that this didn’t seem like the right way.

A conversation in Portuguese took place between the three guys, before the English-speaking one pointed to the guy they had picked up and told us he wanted our jewellery and wallets.

The only jewellery I had was a St Christopher’s pendant my mum had gifted me before I left for the trip and a watch I received as a birthday present a couple of years earlier. Both held sentimental value but not much else. I tried to plead with them for a brief moment, which landed me a punch on the side of my face. Things had just got very real, very quickly.

I took off my watch, leaned over Natalie who was seated between us, and handed it to the guy. He then pointed to Natalie’s Tiffany & Co bracelet and before she had a chance to say anything, he tore it off her wrist.

Natalie started screaming “get out, get out”, but we were travelling at a decent speed, possibly 60 km/h, and I wasn’t even sure that was an option.

I opened my door and lowered my foot on the ground. We were going too fast and it just bounced up and down while sending vibrations through my leg. I didn’t know what to do; I considered jumping out but that would leave this poor girl to fend for herself. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

As I was trying to figure out what to do, we caught a very lucky break. With my door still open, the driver (who was seated in front of me) slowed the car and tried to restrain me, bringing the car to a stop in the process.

As soon as the car stopped, I jumped out and while doing so, received a punch to my kidney.

I grabbed one of Natalie’s arms while two of the guys in the car held her other arm. Those who know me know the chances of me winning a tug of war are generally slim to none, but with a lot of adrenaline, Natalie’s desire to get out, and more leverage being outside the vehicle, she was yanked out.

We both started running through the bush as fast as we could. About 50-100 metres away, we could hear the noises of the highway and see some headlights. I was a few steps ahead and had no idea if they were chasing us, but upon hearing a thud, realised Natalie had been tackled to the ground.

The next part is a bit of a blur, but as I turned around to help her, she was somehow able to push him off her and get up and start running again. Now holding hands, we continued to run for the highway without risking slowing down by looking back. I have no idea if they were still pursuing us at this point.

We reached the highway and continued running in the direction of oncoming traffic. The sun had yet to rise, and there were only a few cars on the road – those that were there just beeped. Luckily, a minute or two later, a police car pulled over and two officers approached us. They were in disbelief that two people could be stupid enough to run towards oncoming traffic on a highway.

Neither of us were experienced travellers and we had no idea if we could trust the police, so the fear had yet to subside. This wasn’t helped by the limited English the officers spoke.

We told them everything that had taken place, including reciting a partial number plate of the car we’d been in. The officers then placed us in the back of the car and, as daylight began to break, proceeded to try and retrace our journey.

Soon enough, we pulled into the petrol station where we’d originally met the two guys. The police viewed CCTV footage and spent some time talking on their radios. We assumed we’d be heading home, but with the two of us still in the car, the sirens went on and we sped down the highway at 180 km/h to the address registered to the vehicle.

At this point, it became clear the worst was behind us, and I found myself excited at the prospect of being in the back of a cop car chasing down the bad guys (Natalie, not so much).

Sadly, the search was fruitless, and after two hours in the police car following some leads, we were taken to the police station.

After the most intense night of my life and without sleep in 24 hours, I’d had enough, and I desperately wanted to go to my hostel and sleep. The police knew I was flying out of Lisbon the following day and had other ideas – they were not willing to let us leave the station. We spent almost 10 hours at the station with little explanation and nothing more than some vending machine snacks for food.

Late in the afternoon, we were told it was time to go. As we walked out of the police station, a man was being escorted into the station – it was the guy from the petrol station who spoke English. He wasn’t in handcuffs, and I recall him apologising. Natalie couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

The police informed us the matter would be going to court and that we’d need to formally identify the suspect. We were then driven to what I think was a courthouse and taken into a room with a double-sided glass mirror (like the ones in Law and Order, where you can see the suspects but they can’t see you).

As we stood there looking through the glass, two people walked in – one of them the guilty English-speaking guy we’d just seen at the station, the other a man we didn’t recognise. Then, a third man walked in, gave a friendly greeting to the man we didn’t recognise (including shaking his hand) before turning around and facing us.

In rather farcical circumstances, we were then asked to identify the guilty man. With that behind us and almost 13 hours after first finding the police on the highway, we were finally allowed to be taken back to our respective accommodations.

However, the police weren’t quite done with me yet. They advised my injuries (just bruising) would need to be documented by the hospital. I was due to fly out at 12 pm the following day, so the police said they’d meet me outside my hostel at 10 am, take me to the hospital, and then drop me at the airport.

Feeling much better after a night’s sleep, I headed out the front door of my hostel on Rossio Square and stood with my backpack in one of Lisbon’s most famed spots. The cops came by on schedule, put my belongings in the boot, and we made our way to the hospital. I don’t recall where Natalie was at this point, but she may have already left the country.

The hospital wasn’t quite as efficient, and by the time they were done with me, closing time for my flight’s check-in was fast approaching. The police recognised my anxiousness and, after getting in their car, they turned on the sirens and lights and sped to the airport, reaching speeds of 160 km/h.

I’ll never forget rocking up at the airport in a police car with the lights flashing as fellow travellers looked around, wondering what the hell was going on.

I hopped out of the car, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and shook hands with the two officers before heading into the terminal. What an experience!

What’s happened since then….

Natalie (not to be confused with my wife Nathalie) returned to London where she was working as a nurse. The two of us stayed in contact, she is now married with a couple of children and living in Brisbane.

The Portuguese authorities, with help from the Australian Federal Police, reached out to both of us on a couple of occasions. I’ve been a little harder to track down due to spending so many years out of the country, but a number of years later Natalie provided testimony over Skype. 

Many years after the event, I received some documents in Portuguese, which, if my memory and the translation were correct, stated that one of the three men is in jail and another is dead. I’m not sure about the third.

We later learned that the cops who found us were ‘traffic police’, and I suspect that this was a far more interesting case than what they’d normally have to deal with. Whatever the situation, I’ll always be grateful for everything they did and their desire to bring about justice.

As for me, my travels continued. A week later I was pickpocketed in Barcelona which strangely seemed to cause me far more distress than this incident. Over the following years I’ve had countless adventures around the world and although that night in Lisbon will always be etched in my memory, I learned a lot from the experience and become a more savvy traveller.

The ordeal served as a stark reminder to always be aware of your surroundings and trust your instincts when travelling. It’s essential to be prepared and to take safety seriously, no matter how experienced or adventurous you may be.

The world is a beautiful and exciting place to explore, and the vast majority of people you’ll meet on your travels will be kind, generous, and welcoming. Some of my best travel experiences have come from trusting strangers and I’ve found it’s the people you meet while abroad that often make a destination special.

Who knows what would have happened if we hadn’t got away… but luckily things worked out, and it gave me a great story to share with travellers over the coming years!