What was my favorite trip; what made it great?

 It was difficult to pick a favorite trip. I have had so very many:

I loved all of the “big” trips I took with Mercy: to Washington, DC, to Montreal, to Vancouver. It was wonderful showing her the sights, watching her learn and get excited.

I loved being in Paris three years ago in October with Laurie and Mercy; 2019, just before COVID changed everything. That was fantastic.

I loved the summer of 2009 when I spent a summer in England, staying in Somerset with Sheila but also taking loads of mini trips: to Edinburgh for the Gathering of the Clans, to Mallaig and Eigg for a hiking holiday, to Preston to see where my grandfather was born, to Cornwall/Penzance and, with Sheila, to Portugal. 

But today I am thinking about my first trip to Europe, which was a three-week bus tour (starting and ending in London) through Belgium, Holland, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Italy, France in August of 1975 (or it could have been 1976, I am slightly fuzzy on that.) 

What made it great? Being young and feeling so very adventurous. Three whole weeks in Europe! A colleague of mine in the Psych Department at McGill had told me she’d been on a few and was going on another one. I couldn’t get on her tour but, with our heads together, figured out there was one, a little shorter than hers, that would be perfect for my first time. And our paths would actually cross one evening in Heidelberg where we shared a boot of beer and compared stories.

Landing in London for the first time felt like coming home. After all the books I had read about London, movies I had watched, I was actually HERE! I raced around that day, seeing Westminster, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben and then returned to the youth hostel I was staying at where I sat down on my cot and promptly fell asleep fully clothed.

Then, the next day, meeting the group of 16-odd 18-35 year olds with whom I would be sharing a bus, some a tent (3-person tents,) campfires, cooking and clean up duties, for the next three weeks. Altogether, we had a great time; our main intent was to have fun, no drama. And there was almost none--except for the time they left myself and two others behind in Cannes while they rushed back to the campsite in a rainstorm. Thankfully, because I speak French, it wasn't that big a deal. We found a bus that went back to our campsite at Juan-les-Pins and when our relieved guide saw us walking to our site, he took me aside and said "I am so glad it was you and Liz we left behind--you're the two I trusted the most not to panic." For someone who had felt clueless for so much of her life, that was a huge compliment (besides I had a bit of a crush on him.) 

For most of us, this was our first trip to Europe and we were all super excited. I felt such freedom, being driven in a huge bus from place to place, listening and singing along (sometimes dancing) to the Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Linda Ronstadt et al. on the cassette tapes, being shepherded around by a guide our age. Stopping at campsites at night where we met other people our age, sharing bottles of wine around campfires, snuggling into our sleeping bags at night, feeling “safe” because I was in a group. Safe was good in a rather dodgy campsite in Venice; but because there were so many young people--Aussies, Kiwis, Americans, Canadians--traveling at that time, it DID feel safe. 

Another HUGE part was having saved up enough money not to have to worry about running out—as I had done on previous trips to the Bahamas and to the Yucatan/Cozumel. Again, I have Karen at McGill to thank, for explaining to me how much money I might need; it was the era of traveler’s checks. I think I did have a credit card but it had a very modest limit. I came home with money left over which was a first and only for me ;)

I saw amazing places like Amsterdam, Salzburg, Cologne, Munich, the aforementioned Heidelberg, Florence, Venice, the Riviera, Paris, the Alps. We took a short river cruise in Amsterdam and then down the Rhine. I also vaguely remember a final Seine river cruise where we toasted the trip (rather a lot.) We shared loads of laughs, helped each other when some over imbibed on wine or beer (mostly wine though—wine can be a killer.) 

My bosom buddy became a Californian named Liz who was just so full of joy about everything. That’s Liz above posing on the path down from the Schilthorn in Switzerland. We walked down that path—took three hours! I also discovered there was one thing that Liz WAS afraid of—cows! We went through a meadow filled with peaceful Swiss cows and Liz was singing (something from The Sound of Music) at the top of her voice. She said it was the only way she could banish the fear. We kept in touch for a few years after that trip but then the letters trickled away. I wish we’d had email (and cellphones) back then; I think we would have kept in touch and my photos would look a whole lot clearer. Or maybe not—we don’t yet know how digital photography will survive in 45-odd years. 

These photos bring back those wonderful memories. And it was this terrific experience that set the stage for me to continue traveling over the years.