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Friday, May 31, 2013

GRAND TOUR OF EUROPE: July 4-5 Germany - Koblenz to Stuttgart

 Sunday July 4  River Rhine Cruise
by kind courtesy of 
The next morning, one of the young schoolgirls befriended me, wanting to know more about "my travels through Europe and where I had learned to infiltrate German strongholds - and was I a spy?!"

Gulp!

We compared memories of our lives in the home counties of England for a few minutes.  I also told her about my adventurous camping trip in the Rockies, and what happened when I came face to face with a black bear cub - and his very protective Mother.

It seemed my new friend shared my reckless spirit, because some moments later, she asked if I knew about the short cut that led to the river.  After Donna's and my twilight trek up the winding road to the fortress, a short cut off the hill sounded like a perfect idea!

So I collected Donna, and we followed this precocious 10-year old down a steep, overgrown wooded pathway that seemed to lurch down one side of the hill.

Just as I was wondering if the child, herself, had ever travelled this path before, a magnificent panoramic view of the Rhine river opened up before us. Our tangled path had led us right to the entrance gate to the Rhine Castle River Cruises.
by kind courtesy of 
Donna and I had already planned on taking a Rhine Cruise! And this clever schoolgirl had led us right to where we needed to be to make it happen!

Our Angels really do come in all shapes and sizes! 

After expressing our delight at arriving at the river's edge in record time, we hugged our youthful guide "auf wiedersehn" and wished her well on her travels.  Her school group had already gathered nearby, for their continuing bus tour of the Rhine Valley. 

Meanwhile Donna discovered that our 1st Class Eurail passes allowed us free passage on this particular Rhine Cruise. So we anticipated getting some much needed rest and relaxation that morning.

Though we were oblivious to the fact, 
an adventure was about to unfold

After that rather swift descent from the Fortress Ehrenbreitstein, all I really craved was a glass of cold mountain water.

I had expected that a cruise boat would carry some variety of ordinary bottled water.
by kind courtesy of 
I was wrong. They offered only mineral water, and further informed me that tap water was unsafe to drink.
Oh dear! 
What to do?...What to do?

by kind courtesy of 
Donna had walked to the rear of the boat, and already settled into an easy chair to read her book.  We'd both eaten a hearty breakfast before leaving the hostel, so we really did not need to interact till it was time to disembark from the ferry.

Perhaps Donna was right and I would forget about being thirsty, if I just relaxed and read my book. But, the boat had scarcely pulled away from the dock, when three young American men - in their early twenties - strode purposefully into the aft lounge...and loudly announced:


"Today is July 4, 1976  
It's America's Bicentennial!
and the beers are on us! 
Everyone is invited!"
by kind courtesy of 
It was exactly 9 am!  I hadn't even had time to open my book. And I was indeed VERY thirsty.

In the absence of water, I was aware that beer could also quench thirst.  The only problem was, I didn't much LIKE the taste of warm, thick English beer.

But these were American lads in Germany, so their beer would at least be ice cold.

 And wasn't I also in Germany. And wouldn't it be sacrilegious to travel all the way here and not even sample a good German beer!

With very little hesitation, I asked Donna to keep watch over my back pack, passport and travellers' cheques for the remainder of our Rhine cruise. Then I followed  the pied pipers of pale ale, to the bow of the vessel.
by kind courtesy of 
By 10 am, our hosts Geoff, Charlie and Hank had the party in full swing and several more passengers had heard the music and decided to join in the fun.

by kind courtesy of 

By chance, a Bavarian Oom pah band, complete with a dirndl skirted lady and men in lederhosen, was also travelling up the Rhine on our ferry. Without hesitation, they had unpacked their instruments, and played on the front deck for all the party-goers.

The heat was merciless, but we all braved the sunshine to sing along with the loud, cheery music. It didn't seem to matter that nobody knew the lyrics!

Close to noon, the ship's captain provided free refreshments of bratwurst, heavy bread and more beer for the merry-makers. The food kept the party buzzing for the next couple of hours of Rhine travel.

My first ever German beer, drunk on that hot Bi-Centennial Sunday morning, afloat on the River Rhine, was surreal, but it certainly helped to quench my thirst.

But my first beer led to a second, then a third, then another...and another. With all the fun we were having, taking photos and laughing with the boys as well as singing with the band, I hadn't paid attention to how many beers I drank.
by kind courtesy of 
I did, however, spend a lot of that time enthusiastically taking photographs of as many castles as I could spy along our route.

It was only when I later developed those photos and saw how 'skewed' they were, that I realized my level of intoxication had, indeed, been great.

That I hadn't stumbled and fallen overboard was it's own small miracle.

My three, stalwart, American hosts took very good care of me for the five hours it took to get to our destination. Relentless sunshine baked our ferry and its passengers, as it bore almost continuously southwards. Going UP-stream by river, it seems, takes a good deal longer than travelling downstream.
by kind courtesy of  
I vaguely remember insisting on carrying my own backpack as we left the boat. But the pain it inflicted on my sun-scorched shoulders soon convinced me to accept Geoff's help.

The train to Stuttgart was practically empty except for the three American guys, Donna, myself plus a couple of others who had also disembarked there.

Geoff had an inkling that sunburn wasn't my only problem that afternoon, as led the two of us and both our back packs into a vacant carriage.

Away from the hot glare of the sun, I became aware of just how much my head hurt and how sore my eyes were. Even after removing my contact lenses, my eyes still felt puffy and prickly.

Geoff was apparently more concerned about my burned and scuffed shoulders, than my ability to see clearly. But my eyes and throbbing head felt much better in the relative coolness of the train's interior.

From his own back-pack, Geoff produced some ointment, turned my back to him, and proceeded to gently massage it into my skin.  It was a very sweet and timely action that magically took away most of the pain, while instantly cooling my skin.

Being separate from the group, and now free from pain. also gave Geoff and me our first opportunity to talk quietly and discover what had brought each of us to this place at this particular moment in time. We enjoyed it so much, we spent the rest of our train journey sharing youthful ideas and trading travel news.

An hour or so later, the train neared Stuttgart, where Donna and I were to disembark, leaving our generous hosts to continue their journey by train. Geoff and I rejoined the others in time to take photos, exchange mailing addresses and  say goodbye.

Then Donna and I stepped onto the platform and out of the lives of three American strangers with whom we'd shared Bi-Centennial Celebrations.
by kind courtesy of 
It had been hours since either Donna or I had eaten a proper meal.  So, before searching out a place to stay for the night, we treated ourselves to some refreshments in Stuttgart Station.

I began to feel shaky and dizzy while negotiating the wide stone staircase that descended to the street exit.  My legs became less and less steady, till I finally collapsed at the bottom.

Donna managed to wrestle me and both backpacks to one side of stairway. Meanwhile, I was just praying that my head would stop spinning.

Donna then left me there, alone, as she ran to call the Red Cross.

A passing physician saw our predicament and, immediately, came to my aid. When I opened my eyes, the room had stopped spinning. Now I was staring into the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen.
by kind courtesy of 
A quiet, male voice asked me several questions, in English, then politely told me that I had drunk too many beers and too little water, on a very hot day.

His advice for my dehydration was to rest quietly for the night and drink lots of water. 


I concurred wholeheartedly with the idea of drinking water! But where DID one find plain, non-sparkling water in Germany?

We had only just arrived in Stuttgart so, along with drinking water, we also needed accommodation for that night.

Once again, my medical knight in shining stethoscope came to the rescue!  

He recommended the Hotel Wahr on Vogelstandstrasse, and even phoned the proprietor to secure snacks, breakfast and a room overnight for Donna and me.

Then, my angel of mercy picked up my backpack and led Donna and me to the bus stop outside the station.

The gorgeous doc then waited with us for the 55 bus arrive. When it arrived, he quietly paid for our fares while telling the driver exactly where to let us off.  Happily the driver seemed eager to comply.

I thanked my new friend for appearing precisely when I'd most needed him, and for going out of his way to help a stranger. Then I wished him well, and stepped onto the bus and out of the life of the good doctor.

It occurred to me that while learning my life lessons  
in a series of short-lived dramas had its merits, 
saying goodbye still sucked lemons!

Whoever he was, I was thoroughly impressed by my Good Samaritan's professionalism. In his solicitous care of me, an ailing tourist, this Doctor went above and beyond his Hippocratic Oath to "first, do no harm".
by kind courtesy of 
Not only had this good man tended to my urgent medical need, but he had also helped Donna and me to find a very respectable establishment. And, as we were to learn, his generosity did not stop there.

We were met at the door by Frau Wahr, and led into a large, comfortable 'drawing' room, furnished in heavy brocade draperies, gold filigree mirrors, rubber plants and plush furnishings. While our room was being made ready for us, Frau Wahr served us tea there, in china cups and saucers.

Tea was just what the doctor ordered!

One had a sense that this room hadn't changed in half a century or more. But any Victorian dwellings of my acquaintance always featured dusty curtains and dark, musty-smelling corners. Frau Wahr's establishment was spotlessly clean. Every mirror gleamed. Even the air sparkled.

Lydia Wahr greeted us warmly, making me feel instantly 'at home' and very welcome.  After our tea, we were led to a spacious and very comfortable room containing two comfortable double beds, with lamps on each side table, a large pine wardrobe, a cocktail table, set between two easy chairs, a large chest of drawers and, in the corner, in lieu of an en suite, was a sink.

The bathroom was down the hall and featured a large claw-footed iron bath - deep enough to submerge your entire body. And we were assured there was enough hot water available for us to wash some clothes as well as each enjoy a hot bath !  Frau Wahr was true to her word!

But most importantly for me, there was an abundance of clear, clean drinking water. Since I managed to consumed about a gallon's worth of the precious fluid during the following two hours, I soon recovered from that day's excesses.

July 5: Stuttgart
I felt so pampered and well-rested at Frau Lydia Wahr's guesthouse that I just didn't want to leave. So, during breakfast, Donna and I discussed the possibility of staying an extra night there.

Frau Wahr tactfully explained that the good Doctor had not only reserved our room, but also paid our overnight stay for us, because he had (correctly) surmised that the room might be beyond our budget.

It was yet another reason to be thankful to that Good Samaritan for being our angel! After more than two week's of haphazard travel, we'd certainly needed - and had both thoroughly enjoyed - this single night of unabashed old-world luxury.  

Soon after breakfast, we reluctantly vacated our tall-windowed room, slung our packs over our shoulders and bid Frau Wahr, "auf wiedersehen"!

It was Monday morning and the stores were open in Stuttgart!  But first, Donna and I caught the bus back to the train station, dropped off our packs at the station lockers and double checked our departure time for that afternoon.


Then we went shopping! 

Donna needed a drug store, and I needed to buy a bikini before we headed to Greece the following week. Stuttgart was a very modern city with all the usual stores. And the way those stores were set up, in 1976, I had the feeling they expected a lot of their customers to be American.

Browsing in Stuttgart would have been fun for me. But we had simply run out of time.  Our train to Schaffhausen left at 12:41 pm.  Our next stop would be SWITZERLAND!

Next Week
July 5-6
SWITZERLAND
Schaffhausen
Castel der Munot
Bodensee Cruise
Oberwinterthur
Schloss Hegi Hostel

 GRAND TOUR OF EUROPE
JULY 5-6 SWITZERLAND

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Friday, May 24, 2013

GRAND TOUR OF EUROPE: July 2-3 France to Germany
the scenic route

Friday July 2 
PARIS 

Another 110F (44C) scorcher.
We walked to the Eiffel Tour very slowly in overwhelming heat. Our tour cost 14 fr. to the summit.  And for a few glorious minutes, we experienced darkness and its relative coolness.

But when we got out of the elevators at the top, the temperature was even hotter.  Heat rises!  Duh! And with not one single wisp of air in Paris, it felt like being baked alive in an oven.

Our expedited tour of the "Stifling Tower" took us less than an hour. Then we walked back to the Place de la Concorde. Sticking to the shadows helped lessen the sun's onslaught.  But even though wearing only a sleeveless cotton dress, I was still uncomfortably hot.
Unbeknownst to me, at the time, the whole of Europe was experiencing the hottest summer on record, with very little rain, or wind, to lower temperatures.
by kind courtesy of
To cool myself down, I soaked my feet and legs, and, where possible, my entire body, in the several fountains that were strategically placed at each intersection  along our route.

Between fountains, the heat was so intense that my clothes literally steam-dried on my body. My watery antics shocked Donna.  But I remained cool during most of our walk whilst she did not.  C'est la vie!

We had both booked out of our Pension before embarking on our sightseeing tour that morning. And, as per usual, we'd stashed our backpacks in lockers at our departing station, and ascertained the correct time of our train away from Paris.  We'd had MORE than enough of this city's unrelenting heat and were looking forward to leaving the sizzling capital by the 17.48 train to Luxembourg.
by kind courtesy of 
By the time we'd walked the short distance from the Eiffel Tower to the fountain at Place de la Concorde, we were exhausted.  There was no way that either of us wanted to join the queues sweltering at the Louvre.

Instead, we spent the remainder of that afternoon seeking the shade and relative coolness of porticos. We also sipped expensive cold drinks in as many air-conditioned establishments as we could find.
by kind courtesy of
My personal artistic and historical exploration of Paris was far from complete. But Paris is crazy hot in July when the extreme heat saps your energy, making simple activities - like walking - twice as difficult.   I would simply have to ensure that my next trip to the City of Lights was scheduled during cooler weather!

With a heartfelt sigh of relief, Donna and I boarded an air-conditioned train and left Paris near suppertime.  Arriving in Luxembourg a few hours later, we immediately sought out a hotel for a some much needed horizontal sleep.

by kind courtesy of 
http://vintage.johnnyjet.com/photos/Luxembourg-to-Frankfurt-Train-2009-1.jpg

Sadly, the only available room was dismal with creaky uncomfortable beds, no air conditioning, no view and only a cold-water shower.  After enduring a couple of hot and sticky days of washing ourselves and our hair in a Parisian sink, having a warm shower was a very high priority for both of us. Though very tired, we were disappointed enough to demand our money back and leave that Luxembourg hotel!

Despite the late hour, since we expected to sleep on the train overnight, we treated ourselves to a huge spaghetti supper.  But upon arrival at the station at midnight, we discovered that neither couchettes nor seats would be available. Much loud groaning ensued.

Saturday July 3  
LUXEMBOURG - BASEL - TRIER - KOBLENZ
Our train was supposed to depart Luxembourg train station  at 12.30am.
But it had been delayed. And we were unable to discover why.

To while away the waiting time at Luxembourg, I bought some beautiful  stamps and wrote yet more postcards to friends and family.

Two hours later, the train to Basel clanked noisily into the station at 2.30 am.

Apparently thieves had boarded the train further up the line, and the ensuing police inquiry had caused the cancellation of subsequent trains. Our lone train thus held three trains' worth of passengers, jostling cheek-by-jowl for standing room only.

Each 6-seat compartment was smoky (despite regulations), and crammed with 6 or more bodies.  Windows were shut tight, and much loud snoring was heard.  Still wearing my backpack, I found a tiny space for myself, wedged in the narrow corridor, dwarfed by big, burly men on all sides. I stood 5'3" in my stockinged feet. It didn't take much to dwarf me!
by kind courtesy of
At such times, it helped me to remember that daily conditions were a lot more stressful in other parts of the world. Having been born in India, I had heard the tales my parents told about trains being draped with people there.

In later years, I would travel to India with my Mother and see such sights for myself. 

Were I not already exhausted that night, the conditions of this inter-continental train might have irritated me. Instead, I made the happy discovery that one can, indeed, sleep standing up on a moving train - just not for an extended period of time.
by kind courtesy of 
At Basel, Donna and I enjoyed a hearty breakfast, during which we missed our our original choice for our connection to Koblenz. 

We thus caught the relatively empty Trans European Express (TEE) at 08.18 instead.  This was a luxurious ride during which we reclined our seats, and slept till 10.45am.   But a couple of hours of sleep did not quite refresh us after a hideous night of 'standing room only'.

At the suggestion of fellow-travellers, we changed to a smaller train in Koblenz, for a 'must see' 2-1/2 hour side-trip down the Mosel Wine Valley to see the Porta Nigra in Trier.
Some weeks later, we discovered that Trier is located less than five miles from the border of Luxembourg!  
Because of our insistence on a hot shower, 
we had travelled, often painfully, 
for 18 further hours, 
only to return to 
within walking distance 
of our 
starting point 
!?! 

Evidently we'd needed to 
get there via "the scenic route"

---...---...--- The Mind Boggles! ---...---...---

by kind courtesy of 

Trier is famous for its Porta Nigra, which was one of four city gates, constructed during ancient Roman times. The graphic shows the existing "Black Gate" (in dark grey) and the rest of the structure, as it looked when built  between 186 and 200 AD.

Once our train had pulled into the station at 4pm, we both raced out to see the sites.
by kind courtesy of 
http://carverphoto.wordpress.com/2011/03/03/kunstgeschichte/
Rococco RC Church
After the Porta Nigra, we stopped in to admire the Rococo decor at St Paulin's church.

Then we ate a very German supper of sauerkraut and sausage, washed down with some bottled water.  I quickly learned that if you asked for a glass of water (in 1976) in Germany, you would be handed a glass of seltzer water.  
by kind courtesy of www.yumsugar.com


With precious little time to spare, Donna and I stepped into Germany's equivalent of a 'corner store' to buy some ice cold cokes for the journey back to Koblenz.

The Coke bottle handed to me had evidently been put into the freezer section because, when I tried to open it, it exploded all over me.
by kind courtesy of 
Both Donna and the shop attendant howled with laughter at the look of shock and horror on my face.  And I remember thinking, briefly, how  nice it was that Donna could laugh, even if it were at my expense.

I, alone, was NOT amused for I, alone, had rapidly warming coke dripping from my hair and eyelashes. It also ran down my face, to soak the entire front of my blue dress and open-toed leather shoes.

This sticky, nasty mess necessitated a complete, immediate and speedy wash-down, if we were to board our return train on time. I accomplished this feat in the tiny, and less than sanitary, wash-basin, which was situated at the back of the shop.

I removed and washed my dress, squeezing it dry between the available towels. Then, after rinsing as much of the soda as possible from my hair, body and shoes, I gingerly pulled the still sopping garment over my head and onto my body.

While this was a normal occurrence for me - in a dry dress - that wet dress fabric clung to my form. If you've ever tried to wriggle out of a wet swimsuit, you'll have an idea of the challenge I faced. 

We had a train to catch,  
there simply wasn't time 
to wait for my dress to dry!

by kind courtesy of 

Feeling like a bedraggled urchin, in ruined shoes, I summoned my dignity to request, a replacement coke. Then, with wet skirt flapping between my thighs, I practically ran out of that hapless place.

Donna, bless her, tried very hard not to chuckle at my continuing misfortune.  But the sales lady showed no mercy as she merrily chortled away.....such a cruel, wicked woman!

Okay, I admit my wet shoes did squeak like a mouse as I slithered sideways with every step I took!  Wet high heels (in 1976) were notoriously unstable, especially when one walked very quickly in them.  So, as I could no go barefoot in Trier, I merely attempted to slither and slide with dignity.

This day had been tediously long, hot and beyond bizarre. But at least I was finally clean(ish) as well as a lot cooler than I'd expected to be!  What did it matter if my dress flapped like a demented chicken with my every footstep?
by kind courtesy of 
Our return journey from Trier to Koblenz was, happily, a great deal quicker than our outward journey, which had stopped at every single village along the Mosel Valley.  

After my rude baptism by Coke, I slept in my wet dress for a further 1-1/2 hours before we reached our destination for that night.  While I slept, my dress dried into a rumpled mess that wouldn't be considered fashionable for several more decades.

But, one doesn't associate with models without learning a thing or two about presentation. So I wore my crumpled wreck of a garment as if it were a Givenchy original!  Mother would have been SO proud of me!

Donna and I had been anticipating a cold glass of Reisling in the relative quiet of our hotel in Koblenz.  But we arrived in the city at 8pm, to discover that there were NO inexpensive hotels in Koblenz, nor even a Pension that would fit our meagre budget.  

Our only option for that night was the Youth Hotel.  But first we had to discover its location and the road that would get us from here to there.  Eventually, a local couple guided us towards the Koblenz Youth Hostel.  Another hailed a kindly bus driver, who took pity on two travel-worn females. We were standing by the side of the road, shocked by our first sight of the impossibly steep hill we'd have to scale to reach it.

It's my guess that our driver was used to rescuing damsels in distress, since he refused to charge us for the ride.  A few minutes later, he stopped to let us off at the bottom of hill on the road that led to the hostel.
by kind courtesy of
The Koblenz Hostel was, at that time, housed in the Ehrenbreitstein Fortress, whose steep-sided hill looked even more daunting in the waning light.  

It took all of Donna's and my remaining mental and physical strength to climb that hill, whilst still wearing our backpacks.

We arrived at the entrance well before the 9 pm curfew. Unbelievably, the outer gates of the hostel had already been locked, effectively shutting Donna and me outside for yet another night.
Something inside me snapped - 
to quote Popeye the Sailor Man
by kind courtesy of

 "That's all I can stands, cuz I can't stands n'more!"

 We had travelled through 4 countries, 
with different currencies, immigration and customs, 
So I was determined to sleep horizontally that night. 
In a bed that didn't shake!
In the previous 24 hours I had:
  • endured a heatwave in Paris with Donna
  • refused a cold-water hotel room in Luxembourg 
  • slept standing upright in an overcrowded, overdue train
  • missed a planned train connection North from Basel (a blessing in disguise)
  • enjoyed several hours aboard the luxurious Trans European Express to Koblenz  
  • travelled the Mosel Wine Valley to Trier to see an historical site that turned out to be less than one hour's walk from our Luxembourg starting point of the previous night!
  • experienced being forcibly shampooed by an exploding coke bottle 
  • washed my soda-soaked self and dress in a filthy shop bathroom  
  • tried to find humour in walking about publicly in a sopping wet dress   
  • negotiated a steep cliff climb to a refuge only to discover it had CLOSED??!!
Much to Donna's chagrin, I pounded on those heavy wooden doors with my bare fists, all the while wailing that I would not stop creating a disturbance, until they let us both in.  Had the ground opened and swallowed Donna whole, I think she would have been grateful to escape the embarrassment.  I, myself, was beyond such qualms.

It took 20 minutes for someone in authority to respond, by which time I was tired and quite hoarse!

A sour faced woman led Donna and me to beds in different rooms, giving Donna refuge in the quieter adult room.  I didn't care. At least tonight we would both sleep.

After brushing my teeth, and washing the remaining sticky Coke from my person, I was ready for sleep.  That's when I discovered that my bunk was situated in a large room filled with giggling 10-year old English schoolgirls.  

It was, apparently, the only bed available for me, but I didn't mind. The girls reminded me of when my sisters were little. I was extremely tired and very grateful I had earplugs!

Too tired to care what my pint-sized roommates were saying or doing, I caught only a snippet of their conversation as I pushed earplugs home for the night.

....she just successfully 
infiltrated a German fortress! 

that was way cool to hear from 10-year olds!

I smiled to myself as I fell asleep. It had been a bizarrely busy and embarrassing day. But weI was thankful that I was strong, well-balanced and healthy enough to be able to handle it all. I was looking forward confidently, to the rest of my European Grand Tour.

After 22 hours of continuous travel, with its delays, missed connections, sight-seeing and exploding soda bottle, Donna and I deserved to sleep like a logs. And we did.  And - though that glorious night's rest should have prepared us both for a leisurely Sunday Cruise up the Rhine River -
my personal Rhine Cruise experience
was to destined to be anything but leisurely!

NEXT WEEK!
 GERMANY
Rhine Cruise Surprises 
German Beer, Brats & Bavarian Music
Sunstroke Solutions 
Angels to the rescue 
Train to Stuttgart

Hotel Wahr, Stuttgart


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Friday, May 17, 2013

GRAND TOUR OF EUROPE: June 30-July 1 France

Wednesday June 30 
EURAIL TO PARIS
During the journey southwards, I passed the time by chatting with an American, named Bill, and a Japenese fellow with an unpronouncable name.

Bill and I discussed his girl, marriage, Astrology and Danish smorrebrod. He departed at Hamburg.

The man from Japan and I then shared a pleasant but technically difficult conversation for a few hours. Luckily, he carried a Japanese-English dictionary. Afterwards we put up the armrests and stretched horizontally across 3 seats each, in our compartment. We then enjoyed blissfully uninterrupted sleep, except when woken by 4 passport and 6 ticket checkpoints.

 Donna met my train at Gare du Nord at 10am.  She complained bitterly about her solo night in Paris, having worked herself up to near hysteria, whilst awaiting my arrival.  I heard snatches of "Rip-off City" and how she had spent $27 on one meal and the 'rental' of a sub-standard bed for a single night in a shady area of town.

My overriding focus was not, however, on Donna's meltdown but on getting myself a much-needed drink of water. My overnight train had run out of drinking water long before we'd arrived in Paris. So, I was far too thirsty to do more than listen to Donna, whilst watching for fall-out.

She soon attracted uniformed attention on the platform, so I walked Donna, my thirsty self and my backpack, briskly towards the exit.  By the time Donna had run out of steam we were both standing outside Paris' Gare du Nord station.  
Gently nudging my psychically wounded companion towards a place likely to sell soft drinks, I was finally able to quench my thirst.  Only then was I able to de-fuse the situation, by talking Donna out of getting a taxi to Orly Airport in order to catch the next flight back to Vancouver.

Truth be told, I was sorely tempted to hail an airport cab for her, myself.  But, I understood that Donna was only feeling spooked by the big city and its demands.  And since I had been the one who had insisted that she try to manage alone, I now felt somewhat responsible that she'd endured such a miserable introduction to Paris. 

It was difficult for me, then a confirmed city girl, to realize just how vulnerable, and out of her depth, a practical country girl really can feel in the bigger cities.  Not everyone adjusts to city situations at lightning speed, as I had grown up doing. And Donna's Circadian rhythms were clearly better attuned to country life than to the insane hustle and bustle of a metropolis. 

It was thus up to me to calm Donna down and prevent her from making an erroneous and irrevocable decision about her once-in-a-lifetime trip. And since one has always to live with oneself, I chose to take the high road rather than risk creating regrets later on. Though I was neither fond of, nor even particularly liked, Donna, helping her regain equilibrium was just the right thing to do.   
Picture of the Luxembourg Gardens ©2002 by James Martin.
The temperature approached 100F (40C) that day, far too hot for strife and contention. So, with Donna keeping pace, and without a single clue of where we would sleep that night, I strode, confidently, southwards.  

It was good to walk on terra firma again, after spending 19 hours in a rocking train.  Donna was silent for the hour or so that we walked through Paris to find a Pension near Luxembourg Gardens.

Our room was small, dark and airless, had no air conditioning and its solitary ceiling fan offered  only the sparsest relief. We had to share a toilet with anonymous others in the pension. But that room was affordable on our $10-a-day budget - at least for a couple of days. Plus it did have its very own washbasin and bidet and it looked out over a pretty garden in the shady courtyard below.

Something about this area of Paris gave me comfort, and a sense of knowing and belonging. It was odd since I had no recollection of visiting there before.  Yet the feeling persisted.  And my feet had brought me here without hesitation.  Perhaps they knew better than I what this place meant to me?

My 'knowing' was not to be confirmed until a few days after my entire European adventure ended, while I was relating my Parisian adventures to my Mother, in her home in England.

I knew that my parents had emigrated from India to Paris when I was barely a toddler. What I had NOT known was in which area of Paris they had made a home.  So, when I described Donna's and my Pension, my Mother, at once, recognized the address. Our hotel room lay directly across the courtyard from the lodgings I had shared with my parents, 25 years earlier.

Without conscious knowledge, I had found 
- and was then gazing upon - 
the very same courtyard in 
which I'd played as a baby.

 HOW COOL IS THAT?!

This black and white picture of me standing on the balcony of 
our Luxembourg Gardens lodgings was taken by 
my Father on our arrival in Paris in 1950

Silently, I smiled an ecstatic thank you to my angels for awakening a timely spacial memory in me in such an unexpected way. While I focussed on preventing Donna from panicking and getting us both away from Gare du Nord, my ego was effectively in 'neutral', and I was doing nothing, 'energetically-speaking', that interfered with the unfolding of a small miracle.

My angels had used my meagre compassion plus my 'take charge' attitude, regarding Donna and her needs, to lead me back - in time as well as space - to where I might re-visit my younger, more vulnerable and tender self.  Why?  To re-ignite and expand my capacity for compassion.

I knew all this to be true, in all its complex simplicity, in less than an instant.  Since being struck by lighting as a small child I had had many such 'revelations' - or upgrades, as I like to think of them.

I would dearly treasure this new "upgrade" in days to come, when the rigours of continuous travelling exacted a punishing physical toll from Donna - and, in a different way, also from me.

In our Parisian Pension, Donna and I freshened up and changed, quickly, into shorts, sandals and tank tops. Then we exchanged our 'steam-bath' of a room for the Rue de Rivoli and the relative coolness of a 3-hour city air-conditioned city bus tour.

The trouble with 70's air conditioning is that it could only lower the temperature inside the bus by about 10 degrees Celsius, compared with the outside temperature. And on that day, the outside temperature was already well beyond 40C!  
photo by kind courtesy of www.bigbustours.com
I had taken a similar ride 4 years before en route back to UK from Morocco. We had been short of time then, and the weather was a good deal cooler, so we'd not left the bus at all.

This time, I was determined to leave the bus, along the way, and spend some time visiting a few of the sights. It was the best way I knew to soak in the atmosphere of a place.

After a wonderfully long and explorative bus ride, we both sauntered back towards Gare du Nord, to collect Donna's pack.

In my haste to steer her away from the station, that morning, I hadn't realized she'd stowed her backpack in a locker, prior to meeting me on the platform.  She insisted that she had, but that I hadn't seemed to hear her.

Ooops...perhaps I should have listened more closely to Donna's litany of complaints?! So, now I would pay for my decision to ignore them, and dutifully accompany her to reclaim it.  Fair's fair and one lives and learns, but did this latter lesson have to take place on what was surely the hottest day on record in this Parisian summer?
Ah but when you're crazy, what's another trek 
through the sauna that was Paris that day?

Back at the hotel, Donna and I both drank gallons of bottled water, in lieu of food, since it was way too hot to imbibe anything solid. After a few hours' nap, we changed into dresses and heels for a sedate evening cruise  up the Seine on the "Bateau Mouche". 
It was a perfect evening, warm and sultry. And Donna seemed, finally, to be enjoying herself in Paris. How could one resist being seduced by all the attractions along the Seine, bathed in glittering lights? What a romantic ride that cruise would have been in the company of "Mr Right". 

It was almost 11pm by the end of our Bateau Mouche tour. Mercifully, the heat had abated sufficiently for us to walk UP the Champs Elysees towards the Arc de Triomphe.  
by kind courtesy of 
commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Avenue_des_Champs-%C3%89lys%C3%A9es_July_24,_2009_N2.jpg
Slightly ahead of us strode two lone males, who turned around, and waited for us to catch up with them, when they heard the clicking of our heels on the pavement. I was surprised by how very quiet the streets of Paris were, an hour before midnight.
photo by kind courtesy of http://www.inspiredinfrance.com
Walking a few blocks together, we discovered that our companions were both from the USA. They claimed to be chefs who owned their own restaurants in Indiana. Yet, on the road - or rail - one can claim to be anything one wants. It isn't necessarily true. And I had already learned to be polite, but accept nothing as reality unless it bears scrutiny.

To prove their culinary prowess to Donna and me, the two men invited us to dine with them in the shadow of the Arc de Triomphe. Our budget did not extend to such luxuries, so we were hesitant about accepting. But the delicious aromas wafting from the restaurant plus our hosts's insistence on footing the entire bill, sealed the deal for both of us. The magic of Paris made us throw caution to the wind as we smiled and said: "Mais oui, merci"


Thursday  July 1  
Out on the town in PARIS 
Supper was superb, and our hosts were courteous, cheerful and flirtatious as well as very knowledgeable in a culinary sense.  We enjoyed the luxury of speaking English to others who understood the same idioms.  It was close to 1am when the pair took us dancing in a club off the Champs Elysee. There, when asked, I requested champagne.  And we all toasted to Paris! 
by kind courtesy of
Everyone was having a great time, dancing and chatting, till the bill arrived. Tom was charged a whopping $75 for a single bottle of Champagne - and we'd all eventually consumed two magnums!  Tom  proceeded to get seething mad with me for having had the temerity to request Champagne in Paris! 

My view was if he hadn't wanted to pay for it, he shouldn't have ordered it. But I could see Tom was way too angry for a logical argument.  So I suggested dancing might help him find his balance again - literally and otherwise.

We danced for an hour or so, but the atmosphere was far from joyful. Tom's mood remained dour till he took my hand, and, without explanation, pulled me off the dance floor. Then casually announcing that we were going for a walk, he practically dragged me around the block and into a nearby hotel.

My turn to seethe! 

Who the *&^% did he think he was??

While I certainly felt bad about the awkward situation that had shaken Tom to his core, I was not about to single-handedly make him 'feel better'. On the other hand, I did feel badly for my part in creating Tom's obvious stress.

He and his friend had given Donna and me a wonderful memory of a summer's night in Paris. We had feasted and enjoyed a good few laughs at the restaurant and club last night.

So, I put my own anger on hold to help my new friend. Ordering him to sit astride a chair, leaning forward against the seat-back, I quietened him down by giving him a back, neck and head massage.  It worked like a charm because Tom's rage had exhausted him and he had quickly fallen fast asleep.  So I covered him with a blanket and let him sleep.
by kind courtesy of  www.getfitwithmelody.org
Twice in 24 hours I'd had to de-fuse a 
situation I'd unintentionally 
helped to create.

Obviously, something was trying to get me to pay closer attention to conversations, but I would need to do so later.

At that moment, I needed only to find Donna and make sure she was safe. Quietly evacuating the hotel, I retraced my steps to the dance club. But the club had closed and Donna was nowhere to be found. I sincerely hoped she had made it back to the Pension.

It was dawn and I needed to return to Luxembourg Gardens. So I walked DOWN the Champs Elysees on the shady side of the street, avoiding the sun, even at that hour. My clicking heels created a staccato beat that accompanied the early morning birdsong.

The sun was already warm, promising yet another sultry hot day. Blousy Parisian women "d'un certain âge", who might have stepped out of a movie set,  were already on their knees, vigorously scrubbing their red door stoops. They grinned up at me 'knowingly' and bid me "bonjour" as I passed.  I smiled back,  and bid them a cheerful "bonjour" back again, allowing them their amorous fantasy of my 'nuit d'amour' in Paris!
by kind courtesy of 
Eventually the beautiful old horse chestnut trees that shaded the dusty, walking path across the road beckoned, so I crossed the street.

That morning I was accompanied by cheery birdsong, sunshine and the whisper of a breeze through those wonderful old trees.  At the end of the Champs Elysees, I caught the early morning metro towards Luxembourg Gardens and our hotel. 

Donna was, thankfully, at the Pension when I got there, having been escorted 'home' by her dinner date. She looked both relieved and irritated to see me. And I surmised from her expression that she hadn't been impressed when I'd left the nightclub without her.

Since I was far too tired to coherently explain myself, I didn't even try.  Instead, I used the bidet creatively to give myself a reverse shower. I then opted to air-dry my body on top of a towel on the bed, beneath the laziest ceiling fan ever made.

At dinner, the previous evening, Donna and I had loosely agreed to spend Canada Day (July 1) with Tom and his friend. We were to meet them in the queue outside the Louvre Museum.  We did go there, after I'd reluctantly dressed. But the crowds and soaring temperatures convinced us that it was just too hot to stand in any line up - even one that led to the Mona Lisa. Besides, I was reasonably sure I never wanted to see Tom again.
by kind courtesy of
The heat was merciless and, although it was only lunchtime had exhausted us both. So we chose to return to the Pension, where we slept during the heat of the day.  Our plan made perfect sense!

In the cool of our CANADA DAY evening, Donna and I 'celebrated' by washing our clothes in our tiny sink. Incredibly, they took less than half an hour to to dry on a make-shift clothes line strung across the room.
by kind courtesy of
http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lxutz5rQ0E1r3c79uo1_500.jpg

It was while writing postcards that I discovered my address book was missing.  My camera was safe, but two rolls of used film were also missing. Those pictures documented my amazing week of activities in Scandinavia, along with my new friends, the sights I'd seen, and even photos of an elderly relative I'd probably never see again. I was beyond heartbroken!  How could this have happened?
Mon Dieu! 
Who would take such specific items?  
NEXT WEEK!

PARIS - GERMANY
via LUXEMBOURG
Paris: 
The Difficult Decision
The Eiffel Tower 

Luxembourg:
The Great Un-Welcome
The Not-So-Great Train Robbery

Germany:   
Mosel Wine Valley
Ancient Roman Ruins in Trier
Explosion in Trier 
Trial and Tribulation in Koblenz

 GRAND TOUR OF EUROPE 
July 2-3 PARIS, FRANCE 
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