There’s a certain sinking feeling that is most likely very familiar to frequent travellers.  It’s that sudden, unwelcome realisation that something has gone wrong – something small and insignificant in itself perhaps, but with far-reaching consequences of inconvenience and expense. This is the feeling I experienced this last weekend while queueing to book a rental car at Port Elizabeth airport.  The scenario was quite simple:  I had been invited to a journalist’s conference in George.  The Outeniqua Tourism Association had taken advantage of this convocation of writers to put together a programme showcasing the Hop Route with George at its heart.   I decided to arrive a day early via PE and leave a day late, spending that extra time exploring the environs of George.  Like most people, I had never thought of George as a tourism destination: it’s one of those towns you whizz past on Garden Route.  Here was my chance to get to grips, as it were, with George. So there I was, standing in line at the counter of Europcar (which has the best rates, by the way).  And I was woken from my value-for-money reverie when the lady in front of me handed over her driver’s licence – and I suddenly remembered that my own driver’s licence was … -  securely locked in my car at Durban’s King Shaka airport.  There it was… that sinking feeling. I had a good while to consider my plight.  Could I possibly sweet-talk my way to a rental car without a licence?  I did have a library card – was there the remotest chance I could fool the car-hire person into thinking it was a driver’s licence?  Was there public transport between PE and George?  Did I have a friend in PE who would lend me a car?  Could I use my old ID-book driver’s licence instead of the new laminated-card one? The answer to all these questions was varying degrees of ‘no’.  I reflected bitterly on the fact that, seeing that we lived in a computerised world, I should be able to present my ID and the driver’s licence should pop up on the computer screen.  In fact, our whole lives should be able to pop up on screen after punching in an ID number.  Apparently with the new e-Natis system that can be done – but the eNatis system is still a twinkle in some-one’s eye. I cannot fault Europcar’s Lindela who was so obviously sympathetic to my distress, but there were no solutions.  There is a serious lack of public transport on the Garden Route!  Eventually I contacted the conference organiser and arranged a lift with another delegate.  But obviously my long-weekend on the Hop Route was now Hopless.  I did, by means of riding shotgun with other people, get to experience some of the charms of George, which I will share with you in a later episode.  But the fact that a tiny piece of plastic stood between me and disaster was a sobering wake-up call. I wondered if frequent travellers had a special list of things to remember before they set off.  How do other people deal with the unexpected when far from home?  The problem with the unforeseen is that it is, er, unforeseen, and there is nothing worse than dealing with a problem that was entirely of your own making, was trivial in itself, but is going to cause vast and unbudgeted-for damage to your plans. So there is the episode where you gaily leave your hotel in the morning, catch the bus or the taxi to the Parthenon or the Louvre or the Grand Canal, have a wonderful day wandering around, only to realise – as the sun starts to set – that you have forgotten the name and address of your hotel. Or carefully writing down the unintelligible name of the underground station at your point of departure for a day’s sightseeing, only to find out on your way back that all the stations carry this sign because it says”  “No smoking” in Estonian. Who has not forgotten to include an umbrella or raincoat in the day-pack because the weather was so beautiful when you set out that it seemed impossible it would change into the icy squall that has currently imprisoned you in a grimy café that is impatient to close? Or perhaps you over-estimate your scootering skills when you hire a bike to tour a Greek Isle, ensuring that you fall off the Vespa and embed a fair bit of the romantic landscape in your knees and elbows. On the one hand, these disasters are part of the travelling, what makes the adventure an adventure.  On the other hand, there is a good deal to be said for those nanny-holidays where everything is taken care of and someone is employed to usher you through the travel hiccups. It all depends on your temperament, your appetite for risk, and your sense of humour.  And of course, whether you remembered your driver’s licence or not!