HOW NOT TO TRAVEL

Dearest Friends,

Our month-long jaunt through Europe, back in '77, is probably the most important journey we ever took.  Why?  Because it's the one that taught us how not to travel.  It was everything that "Slow Travel" is not!

Because we had no way of knowing whether we would ever make it back to Europe again, and because we had those free plane tickets that allowed multiple stops, we ended up going to Athens, Rome, Florence, Zurich, Innsbruck, Salzburg, Vienna, Copenhagen, Paris and London.  Ten cities in 29 days.  Of course, you must then subtract all the time we spent traveling on trains, planes and busses, waiting in airports and train stations, waiting or searching for luggage, plus packing and unpacking, to get a true picture of how very little time we had in each city.  Also, don't forget to consider the time it took us to find a place to stay in each town.

Because we wished to be "flexible" -- to have the option to stay longer in some places than in others if we so desired -- the only place where we actually had a hotel reservation was in Athens, our first stop.  Everywhere else we went, we would consult our copy of Europe on $10 a Day, then take a bus or train to wherever was purported to be the best area for bargain hotels.  Of course, we weren't the only ones trudging around those areas with that book tucked under our elbows, toting our non-rolling bags.  Sometimes it would take another half-day just to find one with a vacancy, and then it would be on the 4th or 5th floor of an old townhouse with no elevator, and we'd be sharing a bathroom with everyone else on that floor.

So, how did we spend the couple of days that we did have in each city?  Why, we crammed in as many tours, galleries, museums, landmarks and cathedrals as we possibly could, of course!  We ate a few good meals, and a lot of bad ones, shopped every flea market for touristy knick-knacks and postcards to send home, had to check out every bar or pub with an interesting name, spent a whole lot of time being rather disgruntled with one another, and...well, in spite of all that, I wouldn't change one single thing about it, for here is what it taught us:

1) Being together 24 hrs. a day, for an entire month, is a lot to expect from a couple who'd each become used to spending a lot of time on their own.  By spending a bit of time apart each day, doing things we are separately passionate about and don't wish to be rushed through, we enjoy our time together all the more.

2) Our internal clocks are very different.  I am an early riser, he is not.  When I am ready to call it a night, he's getting geared up to go out and party.  After many tiffs, we finally learned to compromise.  I get up with the birds, wander out to a cafe, and get my fill of people watching, journal writing and tea sipping, while he sleeps in.  If he wants me to party down in the evenings, he makes sure I get an afternoon nap, which gives him time to wander around with his camera.

3) When you try to cram too much into too little time, it all just turns into a blur, one place indistinguishable from the next.

4) What do I remember from all those landmarks, museums and cathedrals?  Virtually nothing.

Here's what I do remember from that trip:

• laughing ourselves silly over our lopsided bed in Paris
• wandering the streets at night in Athens, hearing laughter and that distinctive Zorba-the-Greek-style music drifting out to us wherever we went (what is that instrument called -- a bazooki or something?)
• my first taste of retsina at a wine festival we just happened upon (it tastes like pine sap smells)
• arriving at the airport in Athens with time to spare, then discovering we were at the wrong airport
• lying in bed at our Roman pensione, listening to the sounds coming from the movie theatre next door, which had cranked open its ceiling to let in the cool night air
• a picnic lunch of wine, cheese and bread, eaten at a little pull-down table in our own private train compartment aboard the Alpen Express
• another train trip where we were stuck out in the freezing passageway, with a passel of young people, all. night. long!
• watching a motorcyclist spin out and crash, after coming too close and bumping into my elbow - possibly trying to grab my purse
• trying to watch Fellini's Satyricon in Italian, with German subtitles (what the?)
• a funny little old Tyrollean gentleman in a feathered hat, who took a shine to me in an Innsbruck bar
• the best hot chocolate of my life, piled high with whipped cream (schlogg?), at a cafe in Vienna
• happening upon a lovely pavilion in a Viennese park, where we spent a Sunday afternoon sipping more chocolate, whilst listening to a small group perform Strauss, along with the locals
• touring the Carlsberg breweries, and finding that the workers are allowed to drink beer while on duty (Denmark has no age restrictions either, but virtually no public drunkenness - other than the Swedes who come over to get blotto, because they can't get it at home)
• eating Smorgasbord at the railway bistro, then ending up at Vin & Og, a Viking beer hall where I had so much fun, I lost my voice
• being turned away from dining at Simpson's on the Strand in London, because John had no tie
• getting caught in the rain in almost every town, then running across a gorgeous raincoat I just couldn't live without (it swirled when I spun around!) at our very last stop 
• turning to one another in the back of a big black London taxi, at almost the same time, and saying to one another "I think I've had enough.  It's time to go home." 

So what is the final lesson I have learned, just from making this list here?  It's that our very best memories come from slowing down enough to soak in the moment, to be fully present and participating.  As for the very best stories?  Why, those most often come from things not going at all according to plan!

P.S. It turns out all the pictures from this trip were made into slides, which we have now located.  Unfortunately, the scanner that could turn them into bloggable photos is broken.  We tried to buy one in Austin yesterday, but ended up having to order one, so it will be a while before I can post any pictures. Of course, now that I think about it, what constitutes "good" trip pictures is something else we have never been able to agree upon (John's never include any people!), which is why we now take two cameras.