Last week I began the story of the rather traumatic end of our trip to Spain as we learned that my husband’s passport and wallet had been stolen. Resigned to the fact that we wouldn’t be flying home the next morning, we cancelled our flights and prepared to visit the U.S. Embassy instead to acquire a replacement. We rose early and took an Uber from our airport-area hotel, arriving at the embassy shortly after it opened at 8 a.m.

We showed ID (Harry only had an international driving permit issued by AAA, but at least it had his picture on it), answered a few questions about the reason for our visit and passed through security screening, where we had to leave our phones and jackets before entering the complex. I can’t tell you what a relief it was to enter those walls and feel we were on home soil and our problem would be resolved! Right there in the courtyard, before we entered the room to talk to a clerk, stood a photo booth where, for a few euros, Harry could get his pictures for the temporary passport. What a convenience! (We had worried about this issue until we read on the embassy website the night before that we could get our photos there.)

The room we entered looked a little like a small DMV facility: rows of chairs; several numbered, glass-screened windows; and a number board displaying the digits of the current person being helped. We grabbed our number and settled in to wait. There weren’t too many people there, so it wasn’t long before a friendly and empathetic young woman called Harry up. She took his information and the stolen passport information, made a copy of the police report we’d filed at the airport the night before, and gave us a few forms to fill out. These were the same forms I’d tried to fill out on line the night before, so we knew the kind of information we’d need to provide. Turning those in along with the photos, we then visited a different window to pay the fee. Harry returned to the first window to swear an oath that the information he provided was true, and after a wait of about 20 minutes, he was presented with his new passport, good for up to a year. Elation! Every person we encountered at the embassy was both very professional but also very warm and kind, and we left there a little less than 2 hours after we’d arrived.

Just down the street we stopped at a bank to withdraw some cash from an ATM. The machine and the screen prompts were a little unusual, so we stepped inside for some assistance. Once again we encountered genuine consideration and kindness as a young man with excellent English helped us navigate the machine. We experienced this kind of willingness to aid a stranger and expressions of empathy for our situation from everyone we met, and it truly countered the distress of our situation.

Back at our hotel, it took us several more hours on the phone with the helpful agents at AIG’s Travel Guard Insurance to get our return tickets home, booked for the next day. Originally we’d had premium economy seats on British Airways for the flight from London to SFO but had to settle for economy instead. At this point, we were just happy to know we were going home.

After dinner at a neighborhood restaurant, we returned to our room, finished our packing and settled in for a short night before taking a very early shuttle to Barajas Airport the next morning. We approached the ticket counter to get our tickets and drop our bags with great relief . . . but the travel gods weren’t finished laughing at us yet.

More follies next week.

— Patty Vanikiotis, associate editor/copy editor