Blackout Abroad
How a power outage in Europe became my travel wake-up call
Are you prepared for a travel emergency? What if you have no power, no internet? What if you’re traveling and get hit with a massive storm, earthquake, hurricane, blizzard, or, sadly, terrorist attack? I thought I was prepared until I found myself pet sitting solo in a foreign-foreign country without power, internet, or any idea what was going on. This experience was eye-opening, to say the least, and very different from the quaintness of being at home with candles, blankets, and an outdoor grill.
According to the Emergency Events Database (EM-DAT), in 2024, there were “393 recorded natural hazard-related disasters. The events caused 16,753 fatalities and affected 167.2 million people.” This figure does NOT include terrorist attacks and focuses primarily on weather-related incidents. By the way, comparing the data with those of other years past, the 16,753 number is low. Sobering.
Would You Remain Calm During a No-Power No-Internet Travel Crisis
The setup was dreamy: an 8th-floor penthouse, a charming cat, and panoramic ocean views on the coast of Spain. I did my usual pet-sitter arrival routine — picked up some groceries, got a paper map (more on that later), and settled in with my charge for the week, Bowie; the cutest, tiniest, cheeky kitty I’ve ever had the honor to care for. It always gives me peace of mind to use a reputable company like Trusted House Sitters (get your 25% savings here).
Monday morning on my fourth day, coffee in hand at a beach café, the waitress informed everyone in broken English/Spanish that there was no power, no food. I quickly chugged my coffee, paid my 1.80 €, and returned to the apartment.
For the record, I grew up on the Oregon coast, where power outages and wicked storms are as common as sand in your shoes. I’m glad I didn’t just shrug this predicament off — instead, I straightened my spine, put on my no drama queen mindset, and switched into full-on Ninja-Sandi mode. This crisis was different, with the European power outage instantaneously affecting six countries and tens of millions of people, including this little pet sitter.
Walking back to the apartment, with elevators useless, I huffed up eight flights of stairs (hello burning glutes with 120 steps). I filled water containers, located tea candles (and a lighter), took a food inventory (including cat food), and later ventured out to find someone, ANYONE who spoke a little English for information. And what better place than the local grocery store. Well, it was packed, yet calm and orderly. Shoppers were scooping up bread, beer, and TP like it was COVID-2020. I grabbed tinned sardines, the last two croissants, jarred ham pâté, crackers, canned beans, and bananas. I resisted the bottle of red wine as I wanted to keep my wits about me. No one wants to deal with a tipsy tourist in a nationwide catastrophe. Note to self: Should I participate in any future foreign-foreign crisis — buy the wine!
foreign-foreign: someone who lives in a foreign country, travels to another foreign country, and gets stuck in a blackout.
A helpful cashier who spoke un poco de Inglés shared that Portugal and Spain had declared a complete state of emergency. Being in a foreign-foreign country, not knowing a soul, with a language barrier, in someone else’s home was concerning enough. And while I pride myself on keeping a cool head, upon hearing this information, I felt the color drain from my face.
Have you ever survived a travel crisis? Please share your tips for preparedness.
Cue The Adrenaline
What if this lasts for days? I had €55 in cash. No trains, no ATMs, what if I couldn’t get back home? I climbed the eight flights of stairs again with groceries in tow. I prayed. I was thankful I wasn’t trapped in a dusty subway or worse — an elevator (174 elevator rescues reported!). I was grateful it wasn’t the dead of winter.
Bowie the cat was unnerved, knowing something was up. I comforted and cuddled him, read, breathed, and then ventured out to the beach boardwalk early in the evening for more information. To my amazement, it was teeming! No looting, no chaos — just people helping each other as collective societies do. Families were picnicking on the beach, and a crowd of locals assisted two bars in purchasing and consuming their booze inventory. While people were calm, you could feel the angst in the seaside air. Electric vehicles stayed out of commission lest they run out of juice and clog streets. I walked, observed shop owners lock up, was unable to get any more information, then climbed, you got it, those eight flights of stairs again.
As darkness settled over this beach community, the stars emerged to dot an inky black sky. Small glints of candlelight shone from skyscraper apartment buildings, and seagulls landed in odd places, confused by the change of scenery. There was an eerie silence juxtaposed against the rhythmic white noise of the ocean. I must admit, I enjoyed the darkness and tranquility, free from the dependency of artificial light, smartphones, and internet.
Later that night, I was awakened with a knock on my door. Was this an evacuation? No, just a young guy with beer, trying to find the apartment next door where he was meeting friends for star-gazing on the terrace. (By the way, not even the emergency lights at the apartment building worked, resulting in total darkness.) The guys next door provided another update, offered any help, and a beer. On a side note, the one youngin’ who spoke English was huffing and puffing from climbing eight flights of stairs. I mentioned I had climbed them 3 times already that day. HA! Not bad for a señora of a certain age.
Around 7:30 the next morning, after 20 hours of nada, power and internet, uneventfully, returned; my phone buzzing and blipping with 33 messages from folks checking on me (bless you all). I let the homeowners know their cat, pet sitter, and apartment were fine, though I kept taking the stairs for the rest of the week — trauma and trust issues, you know? News reels were full of speculation about possible terrorist attacks, a practice run terrorist attack for the next “big one,” rare “atmospheric phenomena,” and the usual finger-pointing between countries.
Later that morning, a hawk (my favorite bird) landed on the terrace, stared me down, hung out for a while, and reminded me that life goes on. It was a powerful moment.
What I learned:
Now I know there are endless possibilities of catastrophes one can experience during travel. Yet, these simple tips will encourage you to pause, think, and prepare.
Have more cash. ATMs and credit cards are useless in a power/internet outage. Cash is king.
Get a paper map. A few days before the outage, a young traveler, amused that I made it a point to go to the tourist office and get a map, said, “Oh, I just have a map on my phone.” I felt a little smug with my “old school” paper map, knowing she was probably freaking out that she couldn’t check her TikTok for 20 hours. If you need to evacuate or get to a shelter in a foreign-foreign country, a paper map is your friend.
Stash extra water and shelf-safe snacks. This is important if you’re staying in an Airbnb, pet sitting, or cut off from transportation. Croissants; a must.
Pack a spare battery — not to check Wi-Fi obsessively, but for the availability of information when power actually returns.
Stay calm and don’t be that tourist. You’re a guest — act like it.
Know where your documents are: Passport, transportation tickets (printed). Travel with a backpack for water, food, cash (keep in two places), medication, and a map.
Breathe: Seriously — Your adrenaline is pumping. Even if just for 30 seconds. Clear your head before you start hoarding crackers.
Government Offices: Know where your embassy or local police station is. Guilty.
Pass it on: Share your travel itinerary with a trusted friend or family before leaving. Guilty as charged on this one too.
Find that silver lining: Choose the positive. Help someone else. I didn’t die. I witnessed good in people and enjoyed an intimate moment with a hawk.
The Aftermath and Takeaways
The following Friday, arriving back home after a nine-hour bus trip felt-so-good. You can bet I’ll be updating my emergency preplist, both for my home and every future travel trip.
The TV news droned on and on about how desperate people felt without their phones, TVs, and technology. I don’t want to be so dependent on technology that I’m helpless in an emergency situation. And woe to anyone who may think this won’t ever happen to them. In the blink of an eye, life can change, even during travel.
So, learn from my experience: give some thought to your next adventure and be better prepared. It could save your life. And if nothing else, you’ll come out of it with a great story, a taste for jarred pâté, and glutes that could crack walnuts.