Trip - 1993 FIS — ThePhotoGuy.dk

My 1993 Trip to France, Italy, & Switzerland

18 Days “solo” together with Christine

During the first day of my first attempt to travel solo, I met Christine, a Dane, in the Saint-Pierre-Des-Corps train station, on route between Paris and Tours, the first town I wanted to visit, and then travelled the remainder of the trip with her.

Two months after we said goodbye, she flew to California, where I lived, and we continued that vacation romance.

Ten months after we met, we were married in the garden of her parent’s house in Gudhjem (God’s Home), on Bornholm, in Denmark, though we continued to live in California.

Two years, ten months after we met, we moved to Denmark.

Seventeen years and two months after we met, we divorced.

That’s quite a history for someone I met while we each were looking for the connecting train to Tours.

As it happened, I brought a pristine journal with me for that trip, which started as a business trip and was my first real visit to Europe. A British colleague and his wife encouraged me start using some of my unused vacation to travel by train through France and Switzerland.

My habit of writing in a journal allowed me to recreate the route we took, and relive a lot of what I experienced, now more than 30 years later.

I’ve followed the convention I’ve established while working on other trip pages of sharing both what I wrote and the pictures I took on the day that I wrote in my journal and took the pictures. For this vacation, I often explain what happened days after the experience, so be warned, this trip page may be a bit confusing.

Our route

Pre-vacation Business Trip (PvBT)
PvBT Day 1 - Wednesday, September 1, 1993

On plane 10:35am (GMT)

[NOTE FROM THE FUTURE: I’m going to skip several pages of my youthful attempts to be funny]

Totally irrelevant, of course. No reason to include it in here @ all. Just in case you’re wondering. I should warn you that there is likely to be more of that in here as we both manage to meander through together. I don’t know what the attraction to reading someone else’s diary is. I know that reading one’s own is often a good cure for insomnia. But if you find this sort of irrelevant detail entertaining enough to struggle w/ my handwriting, by all means, continue.

If you ask me, the best part is not in the reading, but the writing. I never seem able to pull off these sentences. Other writers can often be barreling down a sentence @ full speed then suddenly, with a flick of a comma and reversal of a thought, spin the chassis of their prose into a neat skid and quick 180, without missing a beat or losing an audience.

My best attempts stall disappointingly, my worst careen out of control and tumble side over side in a fiery mess. But one continues along despite these disappointments.

Something suspiciously like a table cloth cometh. Hold on.

Dinner, or lunch, depending on your preference for biological, planetary, or destination time, looms. I should have a short amount of time to continue writing before I’m forced to stop, though this early in my trip, the topics I can expound on remain fairly limited.

In fact, I think I’ll stop until something to write presents itself.

PvBT Day 2 - Thursday, September 2, 1993

London 8:35am

Thursday has come quickly for me. 8 hours more quickly than normal, to be exact. I’m sitting in a Swiss Air lounge in terminal 2 of Heathrow Airport. My plane should start bording in about 1/2 hour. They have no shower unfortunately.

I didn’t get much sleep on the flight over here, same as my last trip. [NOTE FROM THE FUTURE: That would have been my April 1993 business trip to India, where I flew Boston-London-Bombay] I don’t feel too tired right now though.

On plane 9:45am

Now sitting in 1A on my Swiss Air flight, after a bit of a problem finding a spot for my pack, which is quite large compared to the luggage compartments here. I did find a spot finally, and a woman sitting behind me offered advice, though it turned out to be unnecessary.

Now I’m tired. Hope to get some sleep on this flight.

On plane 11:25am

I managed to get a bit of a nap and was woken by a steward asking me if I wanted something to eat. I was a bit disoriented but he set up my tray & gave me food and smiled. He asked what I wanted to drink and I said, “milk, please.”

“Milk?” he repeated, uncertain.

I nodded yes. He disappeared. This seemed to have thrown him for a loop, as he was gone for what seemed like several minutes. Presently he returned.

After completing my meal, we passed over Paris, which I recognized from the maps I have seen (and they confirmed over the intercom moments later).

Most of what we are flying over looks like rural/farmland in the US. A patchwork of shades of tan and brown twirled in with dark green swirls of trees. Only, France looks like a Mandelbrot series and the US is more like a quilt sewn by hand.

On train 1:40pm

I am safely riding a train on route, I believe, to Montreux. It left on time (of course) two minutes before I started writing. My first attempts @ French are stuttered and nervous. But so far people speak English and are friendly. My fear rises when I try to speak, but dissipates to embarrassment soon after.

Oops! More embarrassment :) Turns out I bought a 2nd class ticket & stepped into a first class car. The conductor was polite and told me, in French, to go back 2 cars.

In the confusion, I lost my ticket. I was afraid I was going to be fined. The conductor just came by (a 2nd class conductor). I explained the situation to him (after asking if he spoke English in French then explaining in English). He said OK then didn’t ask to see my ticket. Whew!

The train is incredibly smooth. Not w/out bumps, but the are so soft as to seem to enhance the smoothness of the ride.

The scenery we are passing is basic suburbia. Different, prettier in some respects, but not major.

The train, BTW, has a McDonalds car between the 1st & 2nd class cars. We can see the lake now. I’m going to watch.

PvBT Day 3 - Friday, September 3, 1993

Montreux 11:40am

Let me finish my story of yesterday.

A while after the conductor left we came to another stop. He returned and asked to see my ticket. I explained I had lost it. He said I would need to pay again. I admitted I had been afraid of that, pulled out my change, and asked if I would need to pay the full 31 SFR again.

He asked if I had gotten on @ the airport. I said yes and he said he’d talk to the other conductor. After that, he didn’t ask for my ticket again.

Shortly thereafter a girl sat across from me and we started talking. She was very nice and conversation flowed easily in English. I felt much better. Another conductor came by and I quickly explained the lost ticket to her. She explained to him in French and he seemed satisfied and left. She got off the train one stop before Montreux.

I got off the train @ Montreux and wondered around trying to get my bearings for a short while. I bought a map but couldn’t place myself on it. After a few false starts, I asked the ticket agent for directions to the information booth. He got frustrated w/ my French and directed me in English in a harsh tone.

I spoke w/ the girl @info in French and found my way to the hotel finally. The hotel owner knows English and began using it w/ me as soon as I told him I don’t speak French well.

I woke up this morning first @ 7am. I fell asleep again and woke next when the guy who cleans rooms tried to get in, @ 9:15. I got up, showered, dressed and in a bit of a stupor, prepared for my day.

Today is fairly cloudy and a tad cool. I’m sitting on the little deck off my room. It feels as though I could throw a stone and hit the lake, but it probably is a little ways too far.

I can see the castle from here as well as a boat which appears to bring tourists to it. I suppose today is a good day to try to see this. I wanted to come back to my room to pick up my camera and change clothes first.

When I got here, @ 11:30, the guy still had to vacuum my room. I felt silly being back so early. That’s what prompted me to write. I’m glad I did, I feel better. It’s 12:35 now. I will need to eat soon. I will fill out some post cards, go mail them, then look into the castle.

PvBT Day 4 - Saturday, September 4, 1993

On train 9:00am

I am again riding the train in Switzerland, heading back to Geneva for a day of sight seeing. The train is crowded w/ soldiers, they speak French.

Oops, I’m off the train again, in Lausanne, waiting for my transfer train to Geneva.

When the train first left Montreux, I feared it was going in the wrong direction (my bearings reversed somehow after my arrival in Montreux on Thursday, not surprising). Fearing the worst, I started asking the soldiers around me if they spoke English. One across the isle did, a young blonde w/ blue eyes & a crew cut. He told me the train went to Lausanne and then Geneva afterwards.

After writing yesterday I went & posted my cards, had pizza for lunch, and walked to Chateau de Chillon (~45 minutes). It was a nice walk and an interesting castle. I took pictures of some boats, a statue of a nude woman by the water, and the castle itself.

I walked back & got home @ about 6pm. Midway on my walk I saw the youth hostel. It looked very nice, freshly painted in bright white & purple. There were some girls waiting and I said “Bonjour” as I walked past and one replied. I was glad for that reply, for I still feel a bit out of place and timid. I think I need to become more extraverted (writing while @ a train station probably doesn’t help towards this end :).

Reminiscent of photos still decades to come

Geneva 6:25pm

[NOTE FROM THE FUTURE: skipping pages with descriptions of my wanderings and wonderings]

Well, I sped off to take in an hour of the museum of natural history, but somehow (I later discovered) set off in the opposite direction. Next time, I need to bring a compass with me! I found myself back at the park.

When I finally placed myself it was close to 4:30 and I knew I wouldn’t see much @ the museum if I set off again (even if I did find it, and I wasn’t giving myself good odds). So I decided to hang out @ the fair. I went to a tent and there was a dance contest going on.

Mid way through I skipped out for a sausage. I couldn’t watch the whole thing, my legs are really aching. Just heard a blast of trumpets. Wonder if there is a free concert going on somewhere. I’d like to stay in Geneva, but I’m running out of things to do. I’m right now sitting in a small park w/ a statue of a nude woman in it. Perhaps I could draw her.

The music is quite loud now. It keeps fading though. It must be really loud where it is, cause when it’s loud it’s pretty loud.

7:20pm

Well, there you are. Nothing to hang in a museum, but a pleasant way to spend a half an hour or so. Perhaps I’ll do this w/ more statues I come across. They are nice enough to hold still :), plus, they don’t embarrass easy, & aren’t charging anything to pose. The park is perfect though, as there aren’t any people here to look over my shoulder and make me nervous.

Starting to get hungry again.

10:55pm

I’m back to the hotel. My walk back to the train station was uneventful. When the train came, I was surprised because it had sleeper cars. I asked a girl for help and she said I needed to go to the other end of the train. True enough. Turns out this train was heading for Italy eventually, so it’s more like what I will ride on on my Eurail pass. The 2nd class car has rooms that sit 6 people. I lucked out and got in a car w/ 3 pretty young girls and a guy who could translate for me. What fun!

Unfortunately, they had to leave after only a couple of stops, but one did stay for a little longer and I got her picture. It was embarrassing to speak so little French and understand even less. But I found the girls were as embarrassed (or more) to struggle much less w/ English (ie. they struggled less, but still struggled). One was from Spain & sat next to me. Another, from Norway (she was the most talkative and the one who stayed). The third was from Switzerland. She looked @ me in a way that made me hopeful to meet people after all. :)

PvBT Day 5 - Sunday, September 5, 1993

Montreux 12:30

I’m sitting by a wine field looking over Montreux. I set out from my hotel a couple of hours ago (slept late again). I’ve been walking around taking pictures and generally wondering if I’m trespassing on private property most of the time.

23:14/11:14pm

I remembered that on the train w/ the 3 girls, one of the girls asked me if I liked Switzerland and I said, “Oui, je t’aime!” meaning to say, “I love it!” (instead I said “I love you!”). Perhaps that’s why she gave me such a look!

PvBT Day 10 - Friday, September 10, 1993

On train 7:07pm

[NOTE FROM THE FUTURE: I’m skipping all the work related entries and days]

I woke this morning @ 6:45 and went to the train station first thing. I had my rail pass ticket validated and made my reservations for a TGV to Paris 7:10pm I had run out of cash last night, so to pay for the reservation I had to pay 4 SFR, which of course I didn’t have.

I have to admit, I feared I’d lose my reservation. I explained I only had traveller’s checks (luckily, I keep them in my calendar) and he said I could exchange them. I didn’t get F Francs, which I’ll probably regret.

Once back at the hotel, I tried to call Clint & the hotel in Paris. Failed to get through to either. So I headed out to ask for instructions for how to call France, and ran into Anne Thomas, who had slept late and was returning from breakfast. We made plans to spend the day together after I made my calls.

I got instructions, but failed miserably @ making my calls.

Anne and I checked out and went off to the train station. Once there, we got lockers for our bags and I discovered I had locked the key for my bag in my bag! Not shaping up to be a banner day in my journal.

Anne handled this much better than I. She suggested that we find a locksmith or hardware store to find something which which to snip the small lock off. I was thinking I would need to break the zipper.

I didn’t remember seeing a locksmith, and the info desk had no idea where one might be. I felt certain I had not seen one in my explorations. Of course, we walked less than five shops down the road and passed a locksmith!

We went in and found that the guy behind the counter did not speak English. So, w/ our broken French and later w/ pictures (what a great idea! It was Anne’s), we explained my predicament.

He asked that we bring the bag to him. When we did so, he brought a hacksaw and began sawing through the lock. Midway through he found that the lock would open. I got my key and found that the lock still worked fine despite the little indent it now has.

Great! My mood brightened and we went off to the Chateau de Chillon.

After spending the day together and taking a train to the Geneva airport, I left one of my bags with Anne, who would get it to Clint, the person I had been attempting to call all day. We got through to Clint’s wife and made this plan. Wives, it seems, can be handy.

I then set off for a train back to the train station in Geneva. I first went to the wrong track, discovered that I can run fairly well w/ my backpack on, but missed the train anyway.

The next train was in a few minutes from the “wrong” track, so I was off running again to be certain I didn’t miss this one. I didn’t and once in Geneva it was easy to find track 8 (which held my TGV).

Once on the train, I started to write this most recent account.

I was hungry, however, glad to have asked for a meal, but an over all low blood sugar mood. I realized several things were bad.

I’ll get to Paris @ 10:40pm.
I have no French francs.
Exchange offices are likely to be closed.
I never got through to my hotel to ask for late arrival.

Life seemed miserable. Nonetheless I set out to write chronologically. Some people sitting near me (it’s a sparsely populated train) left and returned w/ food. I noticed a French set of comments and icons on the back of the seat in front of me. At this point, I believed I would get a meal such as on a plane. The sign says,

Lorsqu’it est possible de prendre un repas dans la ou les voitures d’extrémité, le pictoramme correspondant est allumé au-dessus de la porte

I got out my French/English dictionary (good investment!), and discovered, after several years of research, that this means (roughly),

When it is possible to take a meal in the last car, the icon above the door will light up.

The “bar” icon was currently lit.

A little while later, the conductor came by, punched my ticket, and I asked him in French about meals (basically “When will it be time,” only not so eloquent as that).

He told me in French something that seemed to mean “We don’t bring it to you, and we don’t have that car on this train.” Then he said in English, “You need to go to car 14 for dinner.”

I repeated this and asked if I returned to my seat with it. He said yes.

Off I went. When I got there and got in line, I remembered my lack of FF. I asked a woman next to me if dinner was included in the ticket (she spoke English). She said no. I said I had no FF. She offered to exchange some for me. I remembered I only had 20 SFR and some dollars ~$20. This was OK w/ her, and we exchanged 100 FF for SFR 20 and $5 ( about $19 which should be a good deal for her).

Turns out she is from Massachusetts. Another guy helped us w/ the exchange rate. He, I later discovered in the conversation, was at the same conference I attended (she probably was too). So far, friendly people abound!

I got a pizza, salad, two slices of bread, and a bottle of mineral water for 67 FF (~14). Expensive, but it cheered me up anyway.

Hopefully, 33 FF will get me to the hotel on the metro. I also hope they will still have a room for me, or if not, will be able to direct me to a hotel that will.

It’s now 9:15pm. I suppose I have about one and a half hours to go. I’m in good spirits. Having brought this book up to speed w/ reality, I will turn to P.G. Wodehouse for entertainment & company.

PvBT Day 11 - Saturday, September 11, 1993

Paris 12:53

As the train pulled into Paris last night, I decided to take my time in making decisions. Too often I rush hither and dither w/out stopping to think things through.

So when I got off the train I walked to the end of the platform and found the metro fairly easily. The ticket was only 6.50 FF so I had enough money. I carefully chose where to wait for the train based on the signs and my map.

I made it to Tracadero w/out making a wrong turn. I started to ask the woman selling tickets if I was going the right way, then thought better of it.

I can do this myself, I thought, in French asking for help will only confuse things. I decided also to speak as little as possible, in French unless the person I spoke w/ swapped to English.

Coming out of the metro I saw the Eiffel Tower to my right, w/ the golden nude statues I had seen in one of the books I had looked through. It was 11pm, and all was nicely lit. I resisted the urge to explore, and set off to find my hotel, again taking my time and reviewing my maps & reservation info. I found it a couple streets over.

I checked in using French and understood everything except his parting sentence which sounded like “Breakfast is available from 7” and something about dessert. I said, “je ne said pas ‘desser’.”

“Dix heures,” he said, a tad annoyed, “10 o’clock.”

“Oh!” I said, “Pardon.”

and headed off to my room.

I woke up this morning @ ~8:30 or so.

I walked through the Trocadéro, down the river to the Statue of Liberty, back up to the Eiffel Tower, went up to the top (eventually) of the tower, then took a boat bus to the Musée d'Orsay (it was raining pretty hard now).

The MD’O had a line about 1/2 mile long, so I walked on. I came to the Louvre. I walked in and decided to hang out here today. I just finished lunch and will start looking at paintings & such now.

PvBT Day 12 - Sunday, September 12, 1993

Paris 10:35

After the museum I headed to the Latin Quarter. I wondered about, bought post cards, stopped in a cafe and filled them out, trying to sound like I’m having fun. But the fact is, I was thinking, “The magic hasn’t hit me.” I stayed in the museum for an hour or so, then walked on again, stopping for dinner (escargot and steak w/ fries, this was excellent) and continuing to the Champs de Élysées.

I walked up to the Arc de Triumph, and on my way back it was about 10pm and I wanted to go back to the hotel. The streets (or sidewalks) were crowded w/ people.

Walking along I passed by several cafes w/ seats facing the sidewalk (expressly for people watching). I was not able to bring myself to stop @ one. I kept finding reasons why they were not for me.

I’m in the mood I was afraid I’d fall into in Paris. It’s too overwhelming I guess. There are so many things I could do, but nothing I really want to do.

Right now I just wish I could get some enthusiasm about my vacation. If it’s going to be like this, I’d rather stay home.

6:45pm

I’m sitting inside the world’s slowest bath tub. I should have time to finish this journal before the tub fills. My legs and feet are convinced it’s worth the wait, however, so I’m willing to sit here as long as it takes.

I bought a cheap umbrella and continued my walking tour. I walked up and down and around the smaller island and around Notre Dame.

My walk back to the hotel was exhausting. I really should use the metro more.

Once back @ Trucadero, I decided to go upstairs before eating. I walked in, dead tired and went into the elevator.

“Monsieur!” I heard along w/ rapid footsteps. I held the door. The woman behind the counter confronted me. She asked in French, “Could I see your key?”

In French, this sounds much longer and the word key (clé) is @ the end. I had no idea what she was saying and she seemed upset. I must have had a dumb/scared look on my face, because after she said “clé” and I realized what she wanted, I said, “Oui…” and started, with difficulty, to remove it from my overfilled pockets.

At this point she recognized me and smiled (to herself) and said, “Oh no, that’s ok,”, let the elevator door shut and walked away.

9:55pm

Turns out they usually take your key from you when you leave the hotel. She must have asked, “Do you want your key?” When I said, “Oui” she must have smiled because I didn’t understand her.

I’ve been looking over my travel options w/ little excitement tonight. At Copeyre, canoes are two person, kayaks are one person. Anne Thomas tells me kayaks are not easy to right, but are very easy to capsize. Somehow, this idea is waning in intrinsic interest.

I’ve read a bit of my Lonely Planet but to be honest, words remain unappealing. I don’t really know what I want to do.

Day 1 - Tuesday, September 14, 1993

On train 2:12pm

(on a train out of Paris headed to Tours)

I woke up this morning @ about 7:30am after a fairly good night’s sleep despite paper thin walls.

I reviewed my travel plans. I had no desire to stay in Paris. By 10am I decided to check out and head to Tours, of the Loire Valley and reputed, by my Lonely Planet, to be a good base for chateau viewing (the activity recommended by my British project leader’s wife).

I needed to get cash to pay my hotel bill (I think the owner believes I didn’t like my room, when in fact, I thought it was exactly what I expected). I put a second bandaid on my right foot to cover another toe’s woes and checked out before 11am. I got breakfast @ a corner fruit/vegetable stand (2 bananas) and set off to buy honey for said project leader’s wife.

I found this very easily, using the metro which had become fairly easy to use.

Now I simply needed to return to the metro, get to the train station and find a train to Tours. Simple. Wrong. The Metro closest to me did not sell tickets. I tried to walk to the next one but discovered that the only magic in Paris that I have discovered, that is, that no matter which direction I headed in, it would be wrong, still worked.

I eventually reached a Metro in an entirely random direction and found out how to get to the train station. Once there, it took quite a while to locate the correct passage to the station (I came across a trio playing very pleasant, upbeat music on a guitar and flutes, on a whim I bought their CD for Bev).

Once I found the train station, it took forever to find information (on the top of 4 stories). Nevertheless, I still had better than an hour ‘till the next train.

So I had lunch and wondered about, exchanged some traveller’s checks, and generally looked lost. I got on my train as soon as it arrived. Have to switch trains now!

Day 3 - Thursday, September 14, 1993

Tours 1:15pm

So much has happened since changing trains in St. Pierre des Corps. I will never catch up. As we pulled into the station I heard an announcement that mentioned Tours. I asked the people near if they spoke English and if I needed to change trains. They said yes and off I went.

On the platform I asked a woman if a uniform how to get to Tours, she pointed me off excitedly speaking in French. I had to ask another woman who spoke English exactly where to go, and she was very helpful, taking me up to the right platform and telling me I needed to find a small, old train.

I soon found I was not alone. There were 3 other backpackers also looking for the train to Tours, two girls and a guy. We all tried together to figure out where to go.

Once on the train, one girl chose a group of 4 seats, and I began to join her. Then I realized the packs could take up a lot of space, so all four of us would not be able to sit together. This girl seemed to be traveling w/ a guy, and hadn’t shown any interest in talking with me. The other girl seemed to be alone and had shown more interest.

“Are you traveling w/ him?” I asked girl #1.

“Yes,” she said and I was able to politely choose to sit someplace else. Being a bit too shy to sit directly w/ the other girl, I sat in the back of the train (not far from the door) in a group of 4 seats. When I looked up, she was sitting across from me (girl #2, that is). I was glad she had sat next to me and we started talking about where we were going.

She too had chosen Tours on a whim in order to see some chateaus (and vineyards). She was planning to go to Chinon, which isn’t described in Lonely Planet but is described in her Let’s Go France. As we talked, and she said she was traveling alone, I wondered if we could travel together. She talked about just going up to chateaus and knocking on the door and asking if she could look around. I figured my plan of taking guided tours wouldn’t interest her, and I wasn’t sure if I could enjoy wandering as she described. As we got off the train, I asked her if she wanted a traveling companion. She said yes, so we walked to the info booth together.

Once there, we discovered that the train that she wanted didn’t leave for 3 hours. There was an uncertain time when I told her she may not enjoy traveling w/ me because I like having things planned and not so improvised. We split up and I went looking for info on guided tours. She said she would wait @ the train info office.

There were long lines in the info office, so I gave up on that idea. I returned to Christine (we had introduced each other on the train). Still worried that I would have little to offer her, we decided to stay in Tours together, and went off to find a hotel. The Lonely Planet listed several that were inexpensive.

I should describe Christine. At this point, she had been traveling for more than a day (her first day of a month’s vacation). She wore colorful tights and a large off white sweater, and carried a blue external frame backpack larger than mine. She’s from Denmark, and has characteristically Nordic features.

She’s tall, ~5’ 8” w/ dirty blond hair. Her eyes are light w/ green, blue, grey, and light brown rings. She has a feminine, but strong physique. Her hair is shoulder length and has thick curls.

I felt that I could trust her very quickly (as I say, I only feared I would be boring for her, as she seemed better at meeting people than I am, and more comfortable w/ adventure and better @ speaking French).

The Lonely Planet came to my rescue by listing some inexpensive hotels. We went off looking for them. After some confused searching we found the 1st but it was full. The second was more expensive than my book listed, but 120 FF for a double w/ a shower still sounded good to us, so we took it.

She wanted a shower, so I left the room to explore and give her privacy. I found a little bakery and got a roll w/ chocolate which smelled wonderful and tasted good. I was very happy to have someone to travel w/, and couldn’t believe my good luck.

I returned to the room and took a shower myself (Christine left). Then we went for a long walk and talked about many different things. We came upon a park and an art exhibit and then a playground w/ a big wooden “treadwheel” like you see in gerbil cages.

It was fun spending time with her. Very easy and comfortable. We went and had dinner in a small restaurant in the old town of Tours. It had a Leonardo Di Vinci motif. We shared a half bottle of red wine which made me dizzy. Then we went to listen to live music we could hear, but it was getting cold out, so we returned to the hotel to get jackets and plan our chateau tour for the following day.

[PICTURE FROM THE FUTURE] Street View of the same spot

[PICTURE FROM THE FUTURE] View from behind me

Day 4 - Friday, September 17, 1993

Martel 1:16pm

I’m sitting in a park in Martel, having just arrived from Souillac by bus. Christine has gone off to try to find a way to get to Copeyre so we can go canoeing. But I’m way ahead of my narrative.

We returned to the hotel we found and planned the next day. The we went out to get something to drink and to sit outside. We found the old city again (w/ some difficulty) and stayed until 11:30pm or so.

Back @ the room, Christine was not tired. We talked for a while, then prepared to for bed despite this. Once in bed, we talked about how strange this was. She said she was surprised I asked her to share a room because Americans usually don’t do this so easily. I explained that Susan had told me this was normal in Europe.

“You don’t like silence,” she remarked @ one point. “Maybe it is because of the situation and because we don’t know each other so well.” I agreed.

We laughed about how funny it was to end up in a hotel room @ bed together after meeting such a short time before. She said her friends would laugh because she doesn’t like Americans (we had had this conversation already, and I had told her I don’t like Americans either, at least, not a lot of them).

Suddenly we lapsed into silence at once point as I thought of kissing her. Then we started talking again.

“Sometimes it is like you can see right through me,” she said.

“Why?”

“I mean, it’s like you can read my thoughts.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s because I can…” and I laughed.

“No you can’t!” she laughed too.

8:00pm

We started talking again. We laughed about how strange it was to be so comfortable w/ each other so quickly after meeting.

We wondered if the next day would be strange, but actually we continued to feel comfortable w/ each other. We got up early and with lots of energy. We went to Ozain (or something like that) w/ the intention of seeing the Chateau du Chambord (or some such chateau) and its vineyard.

We got off the train, learned where the supermarket was, and set off in the rain for our breakfast. It rained so hard we needed to eat our hot chocolate croissants under the shelter provided for shopping carts.

Day 5 - Saturday, September 18, 1993

Day 6 - Sunday, September 19, 1993

Day 8 - Tuesday, September 21, 1993

Day 9 - Wednesday, September 22, 1993

Nice 1:50pm

I’ll never catch up. I know that now. I’m in love w/ Christine and she w/ me. We are talking about her coming to the US w/ me to continue her vacation. Also about me going to Denmark to meet her parents and see her home town.

I’ve told her I love her, that she’s the only person I’ve ever really thought I could marry. I now understand why people get married. I can be myself around her, yet we have so much fun.

I know this might just be the vacation, but what if it isn’t? It seems so neat to imagine us spending our lives together. Never have I thought that before. I don’t know why I feel it now.

I have only 5 more minutes to write, then we have to go to the consulate. Her fanny pack w/ passport, train pass, and money was stolen as we slept in the train last night. I haven’t felt so terrible and helpless before. She was frantic, her entire vacation lost only 1 week in.

After filing a police report in Italy and calling her mother once we arrived in Nice, she calmed down. Her mom suggested continuing her vacation. We are not sure what will happen next.

Day 10 - Thursday, September 23, 1993

Nice 11:15am

I’m sitting in a laundromat in Nice as the rain once more pours down in drenching sheets. On the sidewalk outside people scurry by with multicolored umbrellas and plastic rain hats. Christine, my Danish girlfriend, has gone off to call her mother. We have made our decision. She will stay here in Nice and I will go on to Switzerland. We feel so comfortable together, we feel in love, but to go to California would be too much to sacrifice for a love that is only one week old, and we both know it.

So today will be our last day together. I leave for Geneva on the train tomorrow morning. I think we are both very happy.

Day 11 - Friday, September 24, 1993

On train 1:10pm

On a train to Lyon from Nice.

Oh, this vacation is unpredictable.

This morning I had to say goodbye to Christine. But the woman @ the hotel, who was supposed to meet her @ 7am, was late. She said she did not want to stay in Nice w/out me.

I said I could buy her a new interrail pass. She could come to Switzerland w/ me, then continue her vacation. To my surprise she said she would let me do this, if it was possible.

Oh, I’m so tired right now. I don’t feel like writing. To make a long story short, it wasn’t easy, we faced complications as usual, but we are still together. I bought her a Swiss flexipass and a French flexipass (~$300). She will have her full vacation. 1 more week w/ me in Switzerland, then 2 weeks in France. She will not come to California w/ me.

Oh, the story of this morning is so romantic. I was (am) her prince. I’ve saved her from working in the hotel and given back the freedom that was stolen.

Here is a rough sketch of what happened:

we woke @ 6am
she prepared for work & packed
I got up @ 7am
I packed
@ 7:30am or so we talked and she said she didn’t want to stay w/out me.
@ 8:00am, the hotel people still were not around, and I thought of buying her another pass. I asked her if she would let me and she said yes, but we didn’t know if it was possible.
8:20 I left for the train station alone. We agreed: I would learn if I could buy her a pass, if I could, I would return for her, if not, I would leave on my train.
8:35 @ the tourist info I was told I could get a new pass @ a travel agency and was given 2 names.
I went to the closest and it was closed & would open @ 9:30.
I had a drink of water and asked myself if I really wanted to do this. It was pretty easy.
I started walking back to the hotel.
About 2 blocks from the hotel, I came upon Christine w/ the son & mother from the hotel.
“Come w/ me,” I asked her.
The hotel people were confused, they offered me my room.
We explained.
We went back to the hotel, got her passport and dropped off my backpack.
We went to the tourist office
“No,” said the woman when we asked, “I don’t have them here. You need to go to the train station.”
We went and waited forever for the info booth.
“No,” said the guy @ the info booth. “I can only sell them to French citizens.” (in French, I understood a little and Christine translated the rest).
Our hearts were dropping, but we didn’t give up.
“Is there any other sort of pass?” asked Christine.
After much conversation in French w/ this guy, we discovered we could get a Swiss pass, French pass, and a ticket to Geneva for <$300. That is what we did. To Geneva through Lyon.
We returned to the hotel, got our bags, bought more food, got to the station and called to change the hotel reservations.
She called her mother & explained.
We got to the train and found seats.
I realized we may need money for reservations. She went off to cash a traveller’s check.
I waited nervously but she returned w/out any problem.
We’ve had lunch and she’s off getting coffee & writing post cards to give me some time alone.

I’ve felt so many intense emotions today. I’m exhausted. Last night we had a wonderful dinner in a French restaurant that the people @ the hotel suggested. I drank a lot of wine (for me, she wasn’t even dizzy).

I should recount what happened between Tours and here. I left us eating croissants in Onzain. I’ll just give the main details.

Wed 9/15 - We walked in the rain to a bridge, once across it stopped raining. We found the chateau, found it boring, went to a windery (very small) crossed back over the bridge & it started raining again. We went back to the hotel for a nap and slept until 6pm or so. Then got up, got dinner, and planned to go canoeing the next day.

Thu 9/16 - We got up & started our train ride to Souillac. We expected to arrive @ ~3pm. But we were stuck in a train station for 2 1/2 hours because our connecting train was blocked by a demonstration. It was sunny and nice, and we were sad to be stuck in the station, but we had fun hugging, kissing, and talking to fellow travelers. We got to Souillac too late for the bus to Copeyre. We went into town, bought food & found an inexpensive hotel. We went for a walk in the hills then picnicked in our hotel room. She kept me awake talking (I was so tired) but that was fun.

Fri 9/17 - We got a “late” start @ about 9:30. The earliest bus didn’t leave until 12 or so. We left our bags @ the station and went back into town.

The bus took us to Martel and dropped us of in the middle of “nowhere”, @ the edge of a small medieval town.

Christine walked about, found the number of 2 taxis. We had lunch, then walked into the town & took pictures, and we found a taxi, but they could not take us. We walked the 5km to Copeyre, but arrived too late to canoe. The guy was nice, though, and took us to a cheap hotel near a neat small town build against a cliff. We stayed there that night, but Christine was feeling uncertain about staying w/ me. She wanted to be alone, and I could tell. I was afraid to have to go back to traveling alone, but decided I could if necessary.

Sat 9/18 - We started canoeing. It was a bright & sunny day. It was very pretty and fairly lazy work. We stayed in Souillac Saturday night & had ~1 hour alone, me walking & her @ a cafe. I found a cute little park. We stayed @ the same hotel. At 9:30pm I was so tired, I convinced her to give me 1/2 hour alone to nap, then I would go out w/ her. We went to a small cafe w/ lots of local young people.

Sun 9/19 - Another beautiful day. I paddled alone for a while, while she slept in the sun. We saw one storybook castle. We got a ride back to Souillac from the guy @ Copeyre. We decided on the train to take an overnight train to Nice, her in 2nd class and me in a 1st class couchette.

Mon 9/20 - She was tired when we got to Nice, so we spent the morning on the beach lying out & swimming. We planned to go to Corsica that night, but we learned that the ticket was just too expensive. We decided to go to Venice for the day instead, using another overnight train. This time I took a 2nd class couchette.

Tue 9/21 - We walked all over Venice, sat in cafes and on the street, watched and rated pretty passersby. Got terribly lost, located ourselves w/ the help of my compass and then a nice man from Venice. I decided to stay in 2nd class w/ her that night on the overnight train back to Nice. We had a car to ourselves, which we converted to a bed. Terribly romantic. We fell asleep in each other’s arms, woken only once by a conductor wanting to see our tickets. She fell fast asleep still holding her waist pack. I took it from her and placed it on the shelf near me.

Wed 9/22 - We awoke to a horror. Her bag, containing her money, passport, interrail pass, and so forth, the one I put on the shelf, had been stolen. The door to the cabin still open. To describe her anguish and my grief would take several pages, and I think I will remember it clearly for quite a while. My mouth was so dry.

We were still in Italy, and had to file a police report. She was convinced she needed to return home after only 1 week of vacation when she had planned 1 month. I felt helpless and so heartbroken. We had planned to spend 3 days in Nice and I was sure I could convince her to go to Switzerland w/ me.

We got to Nice and she called her mother, who said she should continue her vacation. We met a boy who wanted us to get a room @ his hotel. Christine asked for a job and soon got one (recruiting as he had done, she was to start Thursday). We spent the day getting her passport (actually got it on Thursday) and traveller’s checks replaced.

Then we spent the evening in Antibes.

Thu 9/23 - Both Wed & Thurs in Nice was cloudy & rainy. We ran more errands and arranged for my travel to Geneva. Christine was supposed to start work in the evening but chose to spend the time w/ me instead. We went to a very nice French restaurant and had a 3 course meal & shared a liter of wine. I wore my sandals which are very slippery on wet roads. This morning I have already described.

Right now we are about 1 1/2 hours from Lyon. I’m not sure how we’ll get to our hotel in Ferney-Voltaire, or if we will. The time in Switzerland will be more expensive than France. OK for me but I’m worried that Christine’s budget will be thrown off. These things I hadn’t thought of before. The heady whirl of emotion of being able to take her w/ me, such a fantasy, had filled my thoughts. Now we are on our way, I have time for concerns.

But they aren’t really major, and I am very happy and relieved to have her w/ me now. I wonder what I will have to write next.

Day 12 - Saturday, September 25, 1993

On train 11:42am

We got in to Geneva @ ~9:30pm last night. We were sitting in Lyon w/out concern about our connecting train when we realized our train left at 9:30, which was only minutes away. We rushed to the platform and made it just in time.

Before this we had sat & had dinner. We were both in melancholy moods. We talked about California and how the complexity made it a bad idea. I was also nervous that Christine would find me boring since I seldomly go out to bars and get tired so early.

I was feeling very worried that Switzerland would be too expensive for her and that she would not be able to have fun. I felt as though I had let us down, forgetting how expensive it is.

The train to Geneva was very crowded. We could not get a seat and had to stand for a while. Everything seemed to be going wrong. Riding the train, I feared our extra week together would be a disaster. We “know” she’s not coming to California. Perhaps the romance would be dead.

Eventually, a seat opened up and I suggested she sit. She did and invited me to sit on her lap. I did but it felt too strange, so we swapped. The shelf in front of us would not close and creaked loudly when we moved. This got us laughing and we soon were much happier w/out even realizing it.

Later another seat opened and we were soon sitting together there because the woman sitting next to her offered her seat to me (we made a lot of noise in a chair together everyone had seen us).

She wondered what she would do for work after vacation and I started telling stories from school w/ lots of animation. Soon we were feeling in love again.

Once in Geneva, we used my book to find an inexpensive hotel. The manager, a small, Italian man, was very understanding that we had no Swiss Francs. He showed us a large room w/ 3 twin beds that he would give us for the 2 bed rate (50 SFR ~ 200FF), which is the cheapest we saw anywhere. The toilette and shower/bath were in separate rooms.

We said it was good and went down to fill out forms. After finishing this task, he described his philosophy (don’t spend much time eating/sleeping while on vacation, because you can do this @ home. Spend time sightseeing, dancing and so forth). He offered us something to drink and Christine accepted. He brought out a bottle of Italian liquor, and we each had 2 shots w/ much laughter and “Salute!” calls. We left then feeling happy and alive (the drink was very mild, I had been afraid it would be too strong, but I didn’t even feel any effects).

Day 13 - Sunday, September 26, 1993

Day 14 - Monday, September 27, 1993

Day 15 - Tuesday, September 28, 1993

Lauterbrunnen 6:07pm

We woke up early Saturday morning and went breakfast. The Italian manager was happy to see us, and kept our coffee pot perpetually full. I drank coffee myself for fear that requesting anything else may overburden our host’s stores.

We needed to a bit more running about than we thought we’d need (to exchange money and so forth), but soon we were on the train to Interloken.

When we reached Interloken (after a change in Bern) it was raining. We walked to the street to where we expected to find Balmer’s Hostel.

10:38pm

Our packs were heavy so Christine set off alone to try to find the place. Meanwhile a parade of rowdy boys drinking beers and cows / loud bells around their necks and flowers on their heads walked by. One of them gave me a beer (one of the boys, that is).

When we set off to find the hostel, we immediately felt lost, despite some directions Christine had gotten. She asked another woman who said it was such a long walk she’d drive us there, and she did. Christine sat in the back with a deaf Dalmatian puppy who was very friendly.

I’m going to skip over most of our experiences @ Balmer’s. Leave it to say the place was populated w/ young Americans almost exclusively.

Day 16 - Wednesday, September 29, 1993

Lauterbrunnen 7:00pm

It was raining when we got to Balmer’s, so that night we didn’t do much. We went for a short walk then sat in a cozy reading room. I played a little pool and Christine slept while curled up in a chair. We went out for a walk to find a restaurant, but they were all too expensive, so we just ate our own food.

Sunday morning we got up early (Christine too early because she forgot to set her clock back). [NOTE FROM THE FUTURE: I vaguely remember we had to sleep in different, gender segregated dorm rooms]

We went for a walk from Interloken to Grindwald. Actually, we stopped a little short, after walking for 4 hours. We had expected (and hoped for) a walk in the mountains, but got instead a walk through a valley. It was nice anyways, despite the constant drizzle. We picnicked along the way on the edge of a hay shack.

We finally realized our mistake when we got to the train station closest to Grindwald. We had lunch in the train station (a small wooden building).

9:30pm

I made dinner & we ate, so I took a break from writing. We talked a little about my journal. I told her it was boring with me just writing about events, not my feelings. Well, perhaps I should write about my feelings.

Oh, I’m so in love! I feel so comfortable w/ her. She suits me so well. In the morning when I’m quiet, she understands and it’s OK when I don’t talk then, as the day wears on and I feel talkative, she hangs on the words of my stories w/ interest, edging me on and watching me w/ bright eyes.

We walk hand in hand often.

Oh, I’m a bit drunk. We drank a bottle of wine w/ dinner. I haven’t felt its effects ‘til I finished the last glass. I’m dizzy now when I move my head.

We have so much fun, whether we are just talking, walking, or playing like kids. It’s so wonderful to think she is the person I’l spend my life w/. I like that she’s Danish. W/ her, I could feel free to move to Europe. I could learn French & Danish.

But I worry that it’s too soon in her life for her to pick a life partner. She’s only 22. I’m only 27. What will happen if she really moves to CA w/ me? or are we really different? Is this really magic?

I see us together as an old couple. I like the image.

Oh, I also feel a little sick tonight. My sinuses are bugging me as they did this morning. I need to sleep or I will feel sick tomorrow.

Day 17 - Thursday, September 30, 1993

Lauterbrunnen 6:05pm

My birthday. I’m a little sick. I’ve been trying to convince Christine to come to live w/ me. I feel so strongly that this would be a good thing. Of course, right now, when I feel a little sick, it’s hard to feel so strongly, but earlier I explained I just wanted her to know I wanted her to come. I want her to get home & be sure I want her to be w/ me, so then she can just worry about her own feelings.

She thinks it’s neat that I want her to come so badly. Actually, we are both so unsure. I mean, it’s easy to be in love when you are on vacation. We seem to suit each other so well.

But still, we worry, of course. Regular life is not like a vacation. She doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life. I know if she came over & was dependent on me it would be very difficult to stay in love. And there are so many problems. How will she get a work permit? What will she do for work? Will she be able to find a job? Will my apartment be too small?

And me: am I latching on to a girl too soon, just because I’ve been lonely @ home? How will I feel if I have to share my place?

But when I’m w/ her, the idea seems so compelling. She has so many qualities that I like.

Monday was a beautiful day. We took an early train to the top of Jungfrau. We played in the sun.

Day after - Friday, October 1, 1993

On plane 1:13pm

I’ll just finish up on events.

Monday evening we lazed about for a while, then made dinner. Christine wanted to swim, so we set out to find the swimming “hole”, which was closed after all. So we sat on a bench and talked about her coming to live w/ me. Lots of problems, we agree, but we could manage.

We walked home tickling and giggling (interrupted w/ bursts of bent over coughing fits).

Tuesday we got up @ a reasonable hour and headed off to Lauterbrunnen, which an old couple on the train down from Jungfrau recommended. Our first choice hotels, in terms of price, were all full, and we were getting in a bad mood waiting for the tourist office to open. Finally, we set out on our own. The first place we checked was full, but recommended a place.

Christine headed off to look @ a second place while I went to look this over. The room was very nice, w/ a large bed and big white down comforters. I knew Christine would like that. The price was 24 per person per night if we stayed 2 nights, 22 per person per night if we stayed 3 nights. I went out and told Christine and she said the place she had checked was 70 per night. We took this and we loved it, especially it’s porch w/ a view of the waterfalls.

Our bad moods evaporated.

That evening we struggled w/ the dilemma of her money and address book. She talked w/ her father, which made her nervous, and I got frustrated because I could think of no quick & easy solution.

Eventually we decided to just make dinner in the kitchen and go hiking on Wednesday. We made rice & curry which was actually quite good.

Wednesday was a beautiful warm sunny day. We hiked to a cute town, then off into wilderness. We ran through one deserted spot w/ snow balls. It was a wonderful day.

That night we made spaghetti and had wine. I cooked because she was tired & sleeping. I brought coffee to the room for her. It was a real magic night.

Thursday morning she prepared breakfast for me and we ate on the balcony. This was very nice as well. We found that we could use her railpass to ride the train up the other side of the valley.

Boston 2:35pm

We made dinner and I packed. She fell asleep. I set the alarm for 4:30am and she planned to pack in the morning. We got up at ~5am or so and just made our 6:05 train.

We spent the hours before my flight in strange moods. Too tired, too unsure about the future.

“I’m so afraid you’ll stop loving me when you get home,” she had said. I don’t know what will happen. I feel silly for thinking a holiday romance could really be the love of my life.

5:25pm

But hey, like I thought while on vacation & so in love, what if she is? I mean, I know all the psychology about recreating your childhood and so on. But we do feel so good together, and we’ve made it through very difficult experiences and still feel strong.

Maybe the dream, the fantasy, the fairy tale, can come true. Is it worth it to try? If it could be as good as I imagine, I think it is. Time will tell.