Unlike many of my contemporaries, I was unable to travel much outside of the North American continent until I was in my 50s. Over the years, however, my reading and other interests (art, film, theatre, culinary) have taken my imagination far and wide, and made me long to see more places in the world than I will ever actually get to visit. About forty years ago, I made a list of places I wanted to see. I am enough of a paper hoarder that I could probably find that list again if I put my mind to it, but it would undoubtedly depress me: after all, I’m suddenly three-quarters-of-a century old and my travelling days are likely coming to an end. (Not yet! But soon.)
My interest in travelling both literally and figuratively has also meant that throughout my life, I have usually been studying one language or another, never attaining fluency but always enjoying the exercise. I studied Russian, French and Spanish at university, and have since taken several courses in the latter two languages with the intent of brushing up. I’ve used Duolingo to give me some knowledge of Italian, and I am currently working on German. My literary interests have always been international in scope as well, and books set in countries from Burma/Myanmar through China and Russia, to Japan and Iceland, across Europe, down through Africa, and over to Brazil and Patagonia and Chile, have piqued my interest in actually seeing the places where they are set. At the age of fifty, I finally got to the UK, home of my forebears, where I visited London and saw a tiny bit of Wales.
When it finally became possible for me to make a major excursion to a foreign land, India was at the top of my list – much to the dismay of my elder son, who had generously shared his air travel points with me as a 60th birthday gift. He was not keen on the idea of his mother travelling alone to India, much less on feeling any sense of responsibility if anything happened to her. But I felt that if I had only one chance to see an entirely different geography and culture from my own, I wanted it to be as entirely different as possible. Plus, I didn’t travel alone: I joined a group trip. (The eldest of my travelling companions was barely half my age, but after they all got used to having someone older than most of their parents in the group, it was fine. It was even better once they basically forgot that I was in their midst.) I loved India, and confirmed that I loved travelling.
Most of my travels since have been with my husband, Arnie, especially since his retirement ten years or so ago. Together, in addition to several U.S. trips, we have been to Cuba, Italy (& Croatia), Germany (& Prague), and this past year to London (etc.) and Paris.
I have gained more than I can ever explain from these travels, most of it positive. Travelling has changed me for the better, enriched my life, widened my perspectives, deepened my feelings of connection with people around the world, and made me appreciate our differences. Perhaps the most frustrating lesson to learn has been that it would not be possible for me to cross travel destinations off my life list, even if I knew where it was. There is not one place of those I have travelled to (at least so far) that I would not relish going back to again for an extended stay. In fact, in most cases the hankering is worse now that I’ve seen the places than it was before I went. When I watch a TV series or a movie set in Berlin, or London, or Mumbai, or Mexico City, or read a book from or about somewhere I have been, I long to be back there again.
Our most recent trip was no exception. If you asked me right now if I would rather visit a country I haven’t ever seen before or go back to Paris (and maybe see some more of France), I would be hard pressed to answer the question. I did love Paris.
But then I think of the night markets in Japan, or the Sagrada Familia, and my imagination is off and running once again.
My only hope at this point is that in my 90s, when I can no longer travel, I will at least be able to afford some kind of virtual-reality headset so I can visit a few places my actual body has not yet been to. (I hope the device comes with smells. Food would be nice, too.)
Home again home again, lickety split
Paris may feel like it’s half way around the world, but on May the 11th we woke up in a hotel room in Paris and went to sleep around midnight the same day in our own bed in Toronto. That boggles my mind, even though I know that this experience was only possible because of time differences, and that these differences also mean that it would take us two days to get back to that hotel again.
The speed of our return was also of course due to a few miracles of modern travel. On May 1, when we took a bus from London to Paris, which included crossing the English Channel on a ferry, the trip took ten hours. On the 11th, we returned by train through the “Chunnel,” and the trip from the Gare du Nord in Paris to St. Pancras Station in London was only two hours and twenty minutes. (It would have taken about the same length of time to fly, and the cost would have been almost the same.)
At St. Pancras we transferred to the Tube, which delivered us to Heathrow Airport in about 45 minutes, and our plane for Toronto left not long after we arrived at the airport. Smooth sailing, as it were.
While the train trip back to London saved us time, I would not have wanted to miss the worst day of our entire trip, which had happened on the day we travelled the opposite way by bus.
Influencers
It is my hope and expectation that the current fad of people posting almost nothing but photos of themselves online will come to an end shortly. However, the fact that many selfie addicts (younger women in particular) have found a way to monetize the practice is not conducive to the likelihood of an early end to this trend.
As I have previously written in a blog post on the matter, influencers are an increasing eyesore (ironically) at tourist spots around the world. “Influencers” (at least in this context) are people who get all dressed up in clothing, makeup and accessories from name-brand fashion and cosmetics outlets, and then go and stand in front of something that makes an interesting backdrop and get their photos taken, and then they post the photos on their Instagram or other social media platforms, and hope that the clothing, accessory or cosmetics outlet will pay them for promoting their products. People who are famous from other initiatives – e.g. the tackily clad women from Selling Sunset – are ready-made influencers: they just add sponsored products to the photo shoots they are already doing in order to promote their programs and themselves. I expect that they are paid for the number of “hits” that their images receive online, and that the more popular the influencer, the more they can charge.
(Chinese Windmill plant)
I would also guess that a lot of the (literal) poseurs we saw on our travels were wannabe, rather than established, influencers: not all of them can have financially viable web presences. I wonder whether these people have to pay for their own clothes. No doubt the reason so many of them show up at places like the Eiffel Tower or Niagara Falls is because these landmarks are also popular Google search destinations, which increases the odds that people will come across their photos.
Our Poor Feet
Several times on this trip, like the ones that preceded it, we walked farther than we’d intended. One day early in our visit to London we tracked more than 18,000 steps (including eleven flights of stairs). By the time we got off the underground at the station near our hotel that night, I was promising my feet that if they’d just carry me the final few blocks, I’d never make them go anywhere again. My back was not happy either. But each time when I thought I’d really overdone it, I was relieved to discover that a night’s sleep was all I needed to recharge, after which I was able to head out one more time. (Arnie, by contrast, just kept going and going, without complaint. Very impressive.)
The lesson I learned from this is that you should visit all the interesting foreign places you can when your limbs are still limber and walking is easy. However, if you can’t go until you have achieved the age of aches, pains and sore feet, you should go anyway. You’ll be surprised how far you can get when there’s something around the next corner or at the next Tube stop that you just have to check out. (Of course, good shoes are essential. I say this at the risk of sounding as old as I am.)
A backup power supply for your phone is also essential. There is nothing worse than running out of battery power before you’re ready to call it a day, especially if you need GPS to get you the final few blocks back to your hotel.
A Final Couple of Visuals
Here is a photo Arnie took of the inside of the Shakespeare and Company bookshop. I didn’t realize he had taken this when I wrote my post about the shop. This really captures the feel of the place.
Arnie also got a great video of a charming busker who provided a musical accompaniment for part of our trip from Paris to Versailles.
And that FINALLY concludes my blog series about London, etc. and Paris. I am most grateful to those who have been reading, and for the many positive comments!
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