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Some things are not meant to be done — hot dogs without mustard, reading the Bible without prayer, and large cars on the streets of a European medieval town. These streets, enclosed by stone walls, are narrow and winding, and seem to lead nowhere.
One tour guide explained that the city fathers of ancient medieval coastal towns purposely built streets in a maze to confuse marauding Vikings (and future invading Americans driving large cars).
And yet, I’m driving a large BMW in a village looking for parking, with my wife sitting beside me, practicing levels of intercession often found only in the throne room of heaven. Some would call this an adventure, but so many European tourists were jumping off cobblestone streets into doorways that most would call it a potential mass-casualty event.
Okay, some context: my wife and I are leaving Portugal today after a two-week vacation, and for six days we rented a car to drive from Lisbon to the seaside and medieval town of Lagos. The agent at the Hertz counter, upon hearing my destination and impressed with my gracious demeanor, said that he was going to give us an upgrade. We had leased a Twingo, which could easily fit in the bed of a Ford F-150 pickup, but instead I was handed the keys to a large black roaring BMW.
“Have fun on the A2 Autoestrada,” he said, grinning. Later I realized that it was a mischievous grin, as it was fun cruising at 130 kph on the A2 until Barbara and I entered the walled, twisting, turning streets of Lagos, passing Norwegian Vikings who had been wandering for centuries, trying to find our B&B and a … and a … parking place.
After a half hour still looking for a parking space, one hour later still looking for a parking space, two hours later thinking bad thoughts about the medieval city planners, and finally three hours later turning into this tranquil space with a gate that magically opened to a nice parking lot with only three cars in a 30-space parking area.
Barbara’s intercessory prayers answered? Or, perhaps we had been raptured into heaven without realizing it.
The next morning, we went to get our car, and as we entered that tranquil parking area, military police immediately confronted us, informing us that we had entered a restricted army base and had to leave immediately.
“But,” I stammered, “Our car is parked here!” “What?” a military policeman said. “That’s impossible; this is a highly restricted military base.” To which I replied, pointing through the gate, “There’s our car.” A series of expletives followed (not from Barbara or me), along with statements like “it’s against the law” and other threats. Then the expletive-speaking officer in charge asked for my ID, and I replied, “I don’t have one.”
As I wrote at the beginning of this blog post, some things ought not to be done, and my wife and I muddled into one of those situations while driving a large car through a medieval village.
In an upcoming blog post, I’m considering finishing this story. In the meantime, I’m glad that I’d memorized this verse for emergency situations…
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble (Psalm 46:1, ESV).
Medieval streets filled with tourists and Vikings.
The entrance to the highly restricted military base, with nice parking spots right behind the gate.