Travel, Then and Now

An American Abroad

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: It's a very exciting day here at Chateau Hugo-Vidal, because Virginia, aka Youngest, is coming home from the Netherlands on winter break! You may recall she got into her dream grad program in The Hague, and has been there since the beginning of September (after kindly taking care of me for a month post-knee replacement.) She didn't come home for Christmas because she wanted to both travel and bring the Million Dollar Cat back with her, so she spent New Year's in Berlin and Vienna before taking the long flight home (Amsterdam to Boston via Reykjavik.)

 

Having my child at school overseas makes me think of my own experience going to college in London back in '82-'83. Honestly, technology has changed things so much, it feels two different centuries.

Wait - it is two different centuries. Well, you know what I mean. Except for the fact I flew across the Atlantic instead of sailing, I'm pretty sure my time in Europe had more in common with a young woman traveling in 1924 than in 2024. For instance:

 

Paper tickets. I had my return Christmas time flight when left the US in August, and I lived in terror of that physical ticket somehow getting lost. Of course, I bought Virginia's tickets online, and she's using her Icelandair app to access them (along with weather reports, delay notifications, etc. etc.) At least the paper tickets didn't display ads.

 

Traveling across Europe. There were flights, obviously, but in the early eighties they were well out of the reach of students. At least, students whose parents had them on a budget. I traveled everywhere via rail, using my Eurailpass. I have no idea what it cost, but boy, it had to have been a bargain considering how many miles I put on it. Virginia, on the other hand, took advantage of one of the many discount airlines and flew to Austria. My nephew is going to university in Athens, and he's flown on every trip he's taken in the past two years. I love me some trains, but I have to admit I could have skipped sitting up all night while going from Rome to Paris.

 

Speaking of budgets: American Express Traveler's Cheques. Yes, there is a certain romance to the whole "stopping at the American Express office for your mail" thing. But I was convinced I'd lose my wallet (it was always happening in the commercials!) and would suffer the embarrassment of being the Yankee tourist who needed replacements. I wasn't any more organized then than I am now, and thinking back, I'm boggled my parents trusted me with what was essentially a booklet worth $2000. Everything is electronic for Virginia - in fact, she says the Netherlands are close to being cash-free.

 

Cash! The euro was only a vague idea in some idealist's minds when I was going to school. Every new country I went, I had to stop into a cambio to trade Traveler's Cheques for marks, lira, francs, and pounds. Ans then, of course, at the end of my year abroad, I had a weird assortment of different currencies that always seemed to be just under the amount an American bank would accept. 

Of course, possibly the biggest difference is communication. Before my term started in England, I took part in an archaeological dig in Tuscany and then traveled around Italy and southern France for a total of six weeks, during which time I sent exactly zero postcards or letters home. My poor mother! I was better once I had settled into my London lodgings, and wrote a dutiful weekly letter on crinkly onionskin airmail stationery. I called home twice in the fall semester; one for my brother's birthday, and then again when I had to let my parents know I had missed my Christmastime flight from Heathrow to New York. (The conversation went like this - Mom: Hello? Me: Pass the phone to Dad.)

Meanwhile, Virginia texts with me and her siblings almost daily, and we've had loads of video calls using WhatsApp (highly recommended.) I'm so grateful I didn't have to go through what my mom did (plus, I have no doubt Virginia will make her flight home with time to spare.)

 

 

There's one thing was was decidedly better back in the day - when I left and when I returned, my folks were waiting for me right by the gate as I came off the plane. (Those of you under the age of 30 or so will find this astonishing.) In 2025, I'll be circling Terminal E, waiting for my daughter to clear customs. But we'll be just as happy reuniting as my parents and I were.

How about you, dear readers? What are your travel memories from a bygone age? And what's better now?

Bathroom Adventures in Europe

RHYS BOWEN: As you know, I have recently returned from Europe and this trip has only solidified my impression that Europeans just do not GET bathrooms. In America we have showers. You go into the shower, close the door, pull out the knob, turn left or right for hot or cold and water comes out. It runs away into a drain in the middle of the shower. What could be easier?

Apparently in Europe the idea is to make bathrooms hard to negotiate. Washing should never be easy. In my youth I remember those little geyser contraptions hanging over the bathtub that lit with a terrifying roar and then spewed out scalding water. I also remember the bathroom in a friend's flat in Umbria. It had a shower in the middle of the room, surrounded by a small lip to stop the water from flooding the whole flat. You could draw a curtain around you, but when the shower was turned on the curtain was sucked inward by the force of the water so that it clung to the body making it impossible to wash. It also allowed the rest of the room to end up liberally sprayed

And what about all those bathtubs that have a hose attached so that you can shower--but no shower curtain so that as you aim for your back you accidentally spray the ceiling and walls. How hard would it be to put up a shower rail?

This year was no exception. We rented a very modern apartment just outside Nice. The kitchen was equipped with everything--ceramic cooktop, touch lighting, Keurig coffee maker. But the bathroom? The shower started with two glass doors you had to open. You stood inside then closed the doors enough so that they came together. Then you turned on the shower. There was a choice of rain shower above--not good if you didn't want to wash your hair, a wand that was so fierce that if you turned it on it jerked out of its cradle, like deranged snake, and sprayed everything before you could catch it, Or lastly three jets, positioned up a bar... all three hitting in precisely inconvenient parts of the body.
AND... the water ran onto the bathroom floor, only held in by those two doors. So the shower experience ended with having to mop all the standing water into a drain in the far corner.

This doesn't win the prize for the weirdest bathroom I have known. That was in an old farmhouse we had borrowed in the middle of France. To reach the bathroom one had to go through the cellar (with a dirt floor), down a flight of steps into a cave. Mushrooms and ferns were growing from the walls. The shower was in a trough in the middle of the room. You climbed down into it, pulled on a cord and water descended from the ceiling, between the ferns and mushrooms . Oh, and did I mention the toilet was also down there... in a corner? A dark corner with lots of ferns and mushrooms? Needless to say we never went down at night!

Can anyone beat that?

If I become very rich I'll give the European union a grant to initiate bathroom sanity!

There's No Place Like Home!

RHYS BOWEN: As those of you who follow me on Facebook know ( Hi Joan, Karen etc) I'm writing this from London. I've been in Europe for six weeks. Stayed with SIL at her lovely 14th century manor house, met up with college friends, spent a week in Barcelona and then took a 12 day cruise around the coast of Spain and France. All lovely (except Barcelona was extremely hot and noisy) but I'm ready to come home. I am craving home cooked food without any fancy sauces on it. I'm longing to throw a load in the washer! And I want to see the family again. Six weeks is a long time.

I've seen a lot of fabulous things on this trip, but they were fleeting impressions. Cruises are great because you only have to unpack once and there is a spa onboard and you can find something to eat day and night but they are a little like peeking in through a window at someone else's world. So I'm wondering if my ideal vacation has changed. 

Do I still want to see new places and cram in sightseeing? (Please not another museum!) or would I rather stay put in a beautiful place and just adjust to the rhythm of that community, sit on a porch reading, stroll into a village to buy croissants, sit on a harbor for dinner while watching the boats returning?
That sort of vacation sounds really good to me now. I've already announced to John that next year we're renting a cottage in Provence. Shopping at the market, tasting local wines and time for me to paint and sketch

So how about you, Reds? What is your ideal vacation? Do you still yearn to see new places? Are you feeling frustrated that you haven't done the Silk Road or the Siberian train? Or do you dream of peace, beauty, tranquility and a less frantic lifestyle? Do you now want to return to places you have enjoyed or does it have to be somewhere new? Any bucket list journeys still waiting to be fulfilled?

Me? Right now I'm feeling there is no place like home.

INGRID THOFT: The big dilemma for us is the active (usually tropical) vacation vs. the cultural/sightseeing trip.  We love both, but given that time and money are limited, we have to prioritize.  Some trips are restful and re-energizing; they usually involve physical activity, good food, sleep, and lots of time for reading.  The trips to foreign cities stimulate our brains, but we rarely come home feeling relaxed.  I wouldn’t trade anything for witnessing the chaos of Hanoi and Saigon, but those destinations certainly weren't restful.  Last week, we were in Los Angeles, for a mix of business and pleasure.  We lived there many years ago, so it was a bit of a homecoming.  Rather than rush around to see too many things, we had a little bit of everything:  Seeing old friends, taking a hike in Will Rogers State Park, eating poké  at the beach.  It was wonderful, but now we have a third category of trips to contemplate—the return visit to cities we love!

HALLIE EPHRON: All my travel right now is book related -- which I enjoy but it's work. Still on my bucket list is Alaska, and this summer we're going. Beyond that, I've seen most of the places I've yearned to see, and I hear you Rhys when you describe a few weeks in Provence just living. This year we went to Puerto Rico for a week with our daughters, son-in-law, and two grandkids and I'd love to go back with them and rent a house on the south coast and enjoy PR's Latin rhythms: music, life, food.  Or maybe Provence. Or Tuscany...

LUCY BURDETTE: Both kinds of traveling sounds good, but home does too! The hardest part of staying someplace for a longer period of time is my animals. It might sound silly, but they are senior citizens and I hate to leave them for too long. The first thing I do after choosing place and date is line up the best pet sitters!

As for where...Provence sounds divine. But I have to negotiate with my John, who says it can't be all France all the time. Though we haven't been to Brittany, and that I want to see. Or Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Iceland, Ireland, New Zealand. And I'd love to go back to Australia--our trip there was spectacular! Next up for us though is the Galapagos, which we decided to treat ourselves on for our 25th wedding anniversary. I'll keep you posted on that!

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:   Over the past three weeks, I've flown back and forth from Boston to Toronto, Pittsburgh and to Chicago. After battling the craziness of OHare, I am so happy to be home.-- although I must say my travels were incredibly rewarding and fantastic.
 I've theoretically love to go to Paris for a month, and really live there, just Jonathan and me, and the language and just being there.  But then I'd start thinking… How would I pack? What would I take?  

not the real place--but EXACTLY like

Who would take care of the house? How would I work?   We spent two weeks in Italy, with a week in Tuscany at a revamped 14th century farm, and it was glorious.

 We are also very happy doing nothing on the beach, I must say. But we are also very happy, like right now, at home without any responsibilities for four whole days. (Pretty much no responsibilities, at least.). We are going to movies, and going out to dinner, and hanging out  getting our brains relax.

 There are moments, when I think gosh… I should be traveling the world. So, we will. When we get rested enough to do that.

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Rhys, you are a trooper! Six weeks is a long time to be away from home. I start to get homesick at about three weeks, and I think four weeks is about my limit.

There are so many places I have yet to see, and I do love traveling, even the whirlwind of month-long book tours. But what I love even more is going someplace and just settling into the rhythm of life there. I would love to spend a month in Provence or Tuscany, or Paris, or on a narrowboat on the English waterways. And although I get homesick towards the end of three or four weeks in London, I'm never ready to leave!

And I also really like staying home! I am so enjoying this summer, with no travel commitments, no big plans except to write and enjoy the garden and the family. But it is going by much too fast, and come September I'll be traveling again for the autumn. I suppose it's all about finding a balance...

JENN MCKINLAY: I am definitely a go to one place and become one with the locals sort of girl. We have a summer home in Nova Scotia so this is an annual trek (except for this year - sob!) and we hunker in and get in touch with our inner Canadian as we spend our days playing at our house on the Bay of Fundy. When we travel to other locations, it is the same. Instead of ten cities in seven days, I like to go to one place and spend the entire trip getting to know it. My favorite places to date have been London, Florence, and Anna Maria Island but I am always up for seeing more!

RHYS: So, dear Readers... Any dream vacations? New experiences? Saying put? 

Rhys Stays Sane, Or does she?

RHYS BOWEN: As you now know, I've just returned from six weeks in Europe. And I'm about to set off on yet another book tour when Malice at the Palace comes out on August 4th.  I travel a lot (well, not compared to Hank, but to most sane people). And as you know, travel these days can be stressful....as when I was in France a couple of weeks ago and arrived at the train station to find that the trains were on strike and I was due to fly out of an airport two and a half hours away. I couldn't risk staying another night and hoping that the trains were operating the next day because I had no guarantee I'd get on the one flight out of Toulouse to London. AND I was flying home from London in two days time. So.... I had to bite the bullet and take a 300 Euro taxi ride.  And I am halfway to Toulouse when the driver informs me that officially the taxis are also on strike so he can't take me anywhere near the train station or the airport. He'll have to drop me at an undisclosed location in Toulouse, hopefully near a metro station so I can make my way to the airport to catch a plane that is about to depart.

I made it, only just. But you can see what I mean by stressful. On book tours it only takes one delayed flight, unexpected thunderstorm and the plans for the day fall to pieces. So I've found that one way to keep my sanity and banish stress is to take some friends with me.

These two are Sophie and Alexander and they come with me on my US flights. I keep meaning to make them a little house and furniture to take with me, but just their funny faces make me feel better.
And in case you think they take up space, this is how big they are:

And this is Hubyrd. My daughter Anne gave him to me last year and he has had his photo taken all over Europe. People have looked at me in amazement as I place him on Queen Victoria's head or at the edge of cliffs. But again he reminds me that life should be fun and that stressful flights really don't matter.

So what do you do when you travel? Hank, do you have any stress-busters? Anyone else have toys that have to travel with them? Or a particular book? Or am I the only one who is a little weird?

Bathrooms of Europe--a traveler's tale

RHYS:  As I mentioned earlier this week, I’m currently on vacation in Europe. After several days in Poland, then Rome, then a cruise, I’m vegging out in the Perigord region of France, amid spectacular castles and prehistoric caves. Everything about the area is amazing, including the food (and the vin de noix—a wine made with green walnuts to which I’m becoming addicted).

 

However the one thing that always puzzles me about Europe is this:

WHY DON’T THEY GET THE HANG OF BATHROOMS IN EUROPE?

We can stay in the most modern hotel and the bathroom doesn’t quite work. I have to confess that the bathroom here in Sarlat is the closest I’ve come to being efficent in a long while. It does have a shower screen on half of a very high bath into which one needs a stepladder to climb. BUT the shower is one of those free moving ones, attached above my head, and when I turn on the tap, even though it’s supposed to be running from the bath below, the water hits me straight in the face. And of course it’s cold to start with. And the screen only covers half the bath. Wash my hair and there is water everywhere.

But this is minor compared to the bath with no shower curtain in Rome and a shower one aims at various parts of the body, completely soaking the bathroom, OR a friend’s modern flat in Italy with a shower in the center of the room in a shallow basin that overflows instantly. OR the toilet last year in our hotel in Instanbul. No paper but instead a tap that one turned, producing a jet of cold water that, if not aimed correctly, shot past us and across the room!

Of course these are civilized compared to the toilets with two places to put the feet…. I remember one in rural France once that started to overflow on me as soon as I flushed, and I couldn’t get the door unlocked.  I had visions of drowning—not the way I wanted to go.

But the most unique bathroom so far was the cellar of a very old farmhouse we rented once in rural France. It was through the wine cellar (with dirt floor) ,down a flight of steps in a dungeon with fungus and ferns growing from the ceiling and again the shower was in a pit in the middle of the floor.  Needless to say, I didn’t shower as much as usual.

And then there are those scary geysers that creak and hiss and threaten to explode, the public loos supervised by an old woman or man who accompanies you and won’t go away until you tip them….

At least they all make me appreciate Motel 6!  So Reds, any foreign bathroom horror stories to share?

You Can't Go Back Again

RHYS BOWEN: I have just returned from a wonderful trip that took me to Turkey, Egypt and Greece. Turkey and Egypt were new to me, places I had long dreamed of visiting.  Istanbul seemed to me a delightful city with a grand bazaar right out of the thousand and one nights (too bad that it has now erupted in rioting and unrest). Egypt was a sad and sorry place, one that the tourists now shun increasing the poverty and desperation there. Piles of garbage line the streets, half built buildings everywhere, no traffic rules, no jobs and presumably ripe for Islamic extremists.

But Greece was another matter. I was visiting it for the first time in 50 years. Fresh out of high school, naïve and idealistic, I had spent three months wandering around Greece with my friend Ruth. We took local buses, rusty ferries and slept in private houses or tiny hotels. Two girls alone in a land where they kept their women firmly at home. When we ate in cafes we were always the only females. We got used to men propositioning us and old women inquiring why we weren’t married yet. I don’t know why I had resisted going back for so long. Perhaps because I had been told that it had changed so much and become so commercial that I would be disappointed.
So it was with apprehension that I watched Mykonos as our ship steamed into the port. But there were no giant Sheratons or Hiltons to be seen. The town looked as it always had—small gleaming white buildings, blue water in the tiny harbor. True there were many more stores and more cafes but it was still enchanting. We had spent two weeks there on my previous trip, buying warm bread and cheeses and grapes before catching the rickety bus to a deserted beach on the far side of the island. No deserted beaches these days—our beach is lined with umbrellas and chairs.
I was even more worried about seeing Athens again. I had heard it was dirty, smog ridden and the Greeks were always having dangerous protests against austeries. But it was still magical with the Acropolis sparkling in sunshine and the evzones parading outside parliament with their “ministry of silly walks” and pom poms on their toes.  And the Greeks were still charming, friendly and laid-back. Everyone wanted to chat, to ask where we had come from, how we liked it there and interested that I had been to Greece so long ago. True the main square was shut for a demonstration once, and we saw a parade of far right black shirts that was scary, but I would go back again in a heartbeat.
So I’m wondering, fellow Reds, have you ever dared to return to a place of your youth? Were you disappointed?

HALLIE EPHRON: A few years ago we went back to Venice - and I felt just that apprehension since it had seemed like such a magical place when we were there on our honeymoon inn 1969. We were not disappointed. This time we steered clear of the Piazza St. Marco which has become ridiculously crowded. The shopping is still extraordinary, the city a work of art, the food fabulous, and there was even a Vaporetto strike like there was the last time we were there.


RHYS: Hallie, I also went back to Venice for the first time since my childhood and found it as entrancing as ever! One of my favorite places.


HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: My mother used to say "Never return to the scene of a former glory." I suppose that was her way of preventing us from trying to recapture something wonderful--that the memory and the experience of a thing is singular--and that new is better. However, my 89-year-old father and his dear wife have just departed for Paris. For the millionth time. They're off to have a birthday dinner for Juliet at the same restaurant where they celebrated 10 years ago, Les Bookinistes. Dad said, when I called him to say bon voyage, "Paris is always wonderful."
I'm trying to figure out what we can learn from this.

LUCY BURDETTE: Hooray for your father, Hank, that's amazing. This is timely because my husband and I are going to the Provence area of France in October. I spent a semester there during my junior year of college. It wasn't a happy time because I was terribly homesick, and my roommate and I were living in cramped quarters with a family who wasn't very hospitable. (counting toilet paper and showers, just for example.)

But we did meet another family who whisked us around the gorgeous countryside every Sunday--Les Baux, La Camargue, Aigues-Mortes, and lots more. John's never been to this area of the country and I'm truly looking forward to going back. I can't imagine being disappointed....

ROSEMARY HARRIS: My husband and I love to go to new places so I suppose we only return to those places we know we still love. Recently that meant Florence, Rome...and Gettysburg, PA.

I'm more likely to have the "you can't go back" experience with books or movies. The first that leaps to mind is The Adams Chronicles. I remembered loving it and in 2013 it was pretty tough going..

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I've never been disappointed in London or Paris. It's been years since I've been to Italy or the south of France, however, so I do wonder if those places would hold up to the memories. I adored Germany on a book signing tour a couple of years ago, much more so than on brief trips in the late 70s.

I was talking to a friend the other night who had spent much time in Mexico City on business, and wondering how I would feel now about Mexico City and Guadalajara, cities where I spent much time from childhood into my twenties, and loved.

And then there's Edinburgh... It's been more than thirty years now since I lived there. I made a very brief visit when my daughter was six, and have passed through Waverley Station a few times on the way to the Highlands. Would I still love it as much as I did then? Now, if I could just think of reason to get my detectives there, I go visit as a research trip...

RHYS: So, dear friends, have you ever gone back to a place that was special for you? Were you disappointed or glad that you did?