Post 911 Travel 2002

Passing Thoughts...




This is the year that I didn’t go to Europe. I didn’t walk along the Seine in Paris, or stop for a glass of wine at the corner café, nooked underneath the big elm tree. –you know, the one across from the Cathedral of La Madeleine. I didn’t visit the Musée d'Orsay and didn’t marvel at Van Gogh’s self portriat. This is the year that I wasn’t blinded by the sun as I walked up the Champs Elysees in the afternoon. –or lose the kid on the Metro on the way to the Louvre. I didn’t walk under those Louvre porticos where buggies had scrapped the stone walls, or had wobbled along those cobblestone roads upon approach. This is the year that I didn’t reflect on how pitiful the peasants must have felt prior to the French Revolution, wanting for a piece of cake. This was the year I wasn’t angry at the Louis’s.



This is the year that I didn’t make friends with a tour manager as brilliant as Rebecca or Debbie …and didn’t gain an international pen pal. This is the year that I regretted not taking a moment of quiet time talking to my new found friend as the students romped about the streets of Paris, or Rome, or London, or nostalgically at the close of our trip.



I didn’t see the Tragian’s column or pyramid; I didn’t hold back tears in the protestant cemetery in Rome standing over the graves of Keats, or Shelley, or Hunt. No one clicked a snapshot of a wayward cat in the cemetery or the Colloseo, or the Pantheon. No one smelled the oleander.



I didn’t drip my gellatio across the Bridge of Sighs, or scowl at the panhandlers that made the way across the canal so tight with tourists. I had no proscuitto and mozzarella at Café’ Cleopatra’s in Venice, no vino rosso, no proud winks at my companions as we wondered how the poor people lived. I heard no bells in any campanile. I heard no voices echo in the narrow streets. I took no gondola rides.



I had to wait in no long lines outside the Tower, and didn’t have to hurry past the Crown Jewels. No chance for me to pray or reflect in Poet’s Corner and visualize the voices of angels ringing in the nave. I wasn’t yanked back to the curb for looking the wrong way on a busy London street, and I wasn’t refreshed by afternoon tea.



No kids matured a year’s worth in three weeks. No kid imitated the statue in Trafalgar Square, or back in the Platz d’ Bastille. No one laughed at Churchill’s portly belly or marveled at Queen Elizabeth II’s petite coronation gown. No one said, “Mind the gap.” No luggage broke.



I didn’t smell the fresh air on Mt. Pollutes or cast a reflection into Lake Lucerne. No snuggling under goose down comforters in July this year!

I had no chance to see the transformation in my students’ clothes and behavior as they entered the dining room of the Hotel Grande Lucerne, complete with its white linens, sparkling crystal, and dour waiters. No chance. No chance.



I took no train rides, no chunnel trip, no Eurostar---. I counted no heads as my group departed the terminals --no medieval towers passed my windows, and no fields of sunflowers made me gasp.



This was the year I didn’t take an ACIS trip to Europe. This was the first year I skipped since 1993. I won’t let the opportunity pass again. I am already planning my trip for 2003.

copyright 2003