All aboard to Brindisi

Train from Roma to Brindisi (Dec. 8) Well, the time to evaluate has arrived, I fear. Today is the official end of our Eurail-pass, though we are going to try to extend its life past midnight when it expires. About one month ago I dreamt of this day. It was the day that gave me hope during lonely and homesick moments. Thinking about it comforted me and made present tensions with Amy tolerable. I knew "I could make it" to that day. So today is that day and how do I feel? So sad and just a little excited. If I dwell long enough on the fact that essentially our trip is over, I could cry. I don't cry though because I'm excited to see Greece, to have a regular schedule until flying back to the USA, to be treated to home made meals, to know that the only other time I'll have to carry my backpack is when I step off that plane to see Adrienne waiting for me. I'll never forget how much I've learned and experienced in Europe. I've grown up from child to adult, I feel. Many irrational fears, like the fear of the unexpected or of simply finding my way through a new city by metro - are erased. I've gained an appreciation for art, for culture, history, excellence. My understanding of international issues is better and my desire to see how Europeans look, dress and live is satisfied. I've become more forgiving of my short comings and hopefully a little more tolerant accepting those of others. Also, I've learned the importance and difficulty of communication. In fact, this probably tops the list of significant lessons. I've travelled with the same person for three months through good times and bad. We made it work and we didn't split up though we could have - as others had. I think I've been able to see some character traits in myself that I don't like. I have been short with Amy on several occasions and only later saw that I jumped to conclusions too soon. I thin kof the times I am harsh on Adrienne, as well, and I feel such regret. How short is the amount of time we have with those we love. I don't want to waste that precious time dwelling on the superficial. I want to let those around me be themselves when I get home. So what if their "chic"is different than mine. I realize, too, that I hold grudges for too long when I'm hurt. i have to become better at saying "what you did hurt me and I want to talk about it now"instead of just keeping quiet and having it spill out later in a tearful blubbering cascade.

Medicine for the eyes

I just wrote my postcards and I feel good, closer to home. We left Stockholm at 12:40pm after two great days there. We are still with Helen which is awesome. She is so cute - with her Australian accent. I try to get her to say "inoy" (I know). She leaves for Englad on Wed. I admire her for travelling for five months alone! She had never ice skated before but she and Amy did today in an outdoor rink in the middle of Stockholm. I enjoyed watching them holding each other up. Right now we are headed for a little town, Mora, which is on a lake. I love seeing the smaller towns as much as the big cities. Through the window I've noticed we've passed may farms since leaving Stockholm, and also much water. Scandinavia is medicine for the eyes.

Yo estoy in Espana

Hola! Yo estoy in Espana con Amy para dos dias y yo le gusto mucho! Can you believe it? Im in SPAIN! It's so much more beautiful than I ever dreamed. We went from Paris to Madrid (after London) on a 24 hr. train trip. Madrid is a HUGE city with many city squares and rich culture. We arrived there at 5pm and put our packs into lockers. Then we found a train going to the Mediterranean coast (!) and we walked around the city until our train left.Madrid had an extensive metro - our first introduction into any city because the trains usually only go as far as the city outskirts). We walked down the Grand Via - the Champs Elysees of Spain. This street had tons of fashion stores and restaurants like in Paris. There were a lot of statues and fountains. Then we came to Plaza de Mayor which was a very impressive building with a long black iron gate and 3 guards protecting it. Near this was Plaza del Sol where two tall satues were. this looked like the Fanuel Hall of Madrid. There were literally hundresds of people everywhere we looked. I actually witnessed a pick-pocket attempt take place! Some guys were eyeing our bas, too, so we walked like a couple with our bags wedged in between us. Madrid has a beautiful Opera house and as we approached a performance (orchestral) had just endded. The streed leading up to the Opera house was lined with statues from the 1700s. That ended our tour of Madrid. We arrived by train overnight to Alicante, Spain. It's on the Southeast coast of Spain and is so hot. Today it must be 89 degrees! The trip was an awesome adventure. We booked couchettes, which we don't usually do, and the view through the Pyrenees mountains was spectacular. We could see the ocean way out in the distance on one side of the train. On the other we saw huge, rocky mountains rising up beyond land.Right now I'm on the beach and the water is a really clear blue and there are mountains in the distance, not too far from the coast. Amy is beside me topless like so many other women on the beach. We have been on the beach all of today and yesterday. We were on the train so long (from London to Madrid via Paris with a three hour stop over there) that we decided we deserved two days at a beach. Today is a national holidy in Spain so the beaches are crowded. If I didn't know it was October I'd think it was Julyl! I'm actually getting really sunburned - but it feels good. Now that we soaked up some sun we can go north toward Sweden!The Spanish people are very nice. I've gotten some yells, but not all that many. We ignore them so they stop. I've had to use my Spanish and we're getting around fine. The Spanish are really short, too. Amy and I are always the tallest ones around. Well, not always, but we are noticeable..After this we will go to Barcelona, then Paris and other parts of France, then Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Germany, Switzerland, Austira, Italy and Greece.

Again like the locals

Update from Paris (October 15-18) We are in a cafe on the Rue de Lyon, Paris and we have earned exhaustion. We arrived in Paris again on Friday and we're staying with Thierry and his roommate Thierry (yes, they both have the same names!). Friday night they had a dinner party that lasted until 1:30am. Last night we went to another party which reminded me of one of our parties, which lasted until 2:30am. Tonight we are going dancing with a group, so needless to say, we are delightedly tired. I'm hoping Thierry will like me tonight - I suspect he likes Amy. Thierry can speak English well, but with me he only speaks French. How odd. Earlier today I was listening to him engaged in a long conversation with Amy - in English! I thought I heard his door close, too, while she was in there :-O

St. Peter's Basilica and the guy himself

We are outside St. Peter's Basilica at the Vatican and taking time to reflect on the amazing feeling we each felt within the church. Would you believe we've visited St. Peter's everyday we've been in Rome? We saw the Pope last night, too, driving away with his entourage. None of us is Catholic yet we were so excited to spot his little burgundy cap as he drove by we collapsed on the ground in uncontrollable laughter. We heard the choir there yesterday and saw two masses. Nuns and priests were singing acapella in a small side chapel and honeslty I wanted to be one of them with all my heart. How pure and peaceful their voices were. The church is absolutely breathtaking. At 1pm we were supposed to leave for Brindisi, Italy, where we were to catch the ferry to Greece, but we found out the ferry doesn't run on Monday night. We;re glad to have one more night in Rome! Our trip is almost over and I'm feeling depressed about it. I've had the greatest time and have so many memories. Our time in Rome has been so fun. We arrived Friday night at 9pm and got hold of a friend of Amy (Giovanni) with whom we made plans for dinner. We also called a pensione to get a room. Well...we got lost looking for our meeting place with Giovanni and ended up having the policia drive us to the correct spot. Thank Godness the police were there. We had walked about an hour to reach what we thought was the right location and we could have been in danger had they not been there! We met Giovanni and his two friends for dinner and reached the pensione at 1am - only to have the owner tell us he had given our room to someone else! I'm glad we didn't stay there, afterall. It was dirty and in a bad area, we were told lately. Giovanni and the guys and Amy and Nancy (a great girl from NYC who's been travelling with us) and I went all over before finding a hotel at 3am! Thank Godness that Giovanni was able to drive us to various locations until we found room at the inn. The hotel we chose was much more expensive than our budgets but we like it (a little tase of luxury) and we stayed there three nights! Each night we were treated to dinner, we went to a party at an Italian apartment and were given a great walking tour by our hotel desk clerk, Benito. We've been to the Colesseum, Forum (almost, it was closed), Panthion, Trevi-fountain (where groups of Italians were singing), catacombs, the top of St. Peter's Basilica. Tonight we are staying in Plaza Narvonna which is located near the Pantheon and are going to celebrate our last and extra night in Roma together. It's our first night without the guys. Giovanni was a kind and tall host. How he fit into his little car I'll never know. The Italian people are so lively and their culture, so diverse - from amazing art to the mafia. We saw Venice, Florence and Rome. I threw a coin into Trevi fountain so I'll be back - I know it.

On board A.F. Chapman in Stockholm

So many unbelievable things have happened since Paris. Now I'm in beautiful Stockholm. Yesterday we witnessed the changing of the guard at the Palace on Galma Stan. It was fun but I have the feeling seeing it at Buckingham Palace would be more exciting. Then we walked around the old section - Vesterlangahan. We walked to the djurgarden to view the Wasa ship. This vessel sank after only 10 min. when waves caused it to heel suddenly. It was under water for 400 yrs. and raised in 1967 or so. After walking all day we were tired and just relaxed aboard the A.F. Chapman (our hostel!) and played cards and talked all evening. I spoke with John from Holland and Amy talked to "Harrison Ford". John was odd. He came to Stockholm for the purpose of working and to speak a made up language called "esperanto". Apparently there is an entire language and community that knows this. His eyes were intense in a scary way. I'm not too surprised he speaks esperanto. Today we had a great day. We left at 10 am for city hall which was built in 1911. It is where official events and receptions take place. The tour guide was a regal older woman. I liked listening to her. The hall was built in a baroque style on the water. The view from inside was beautiful. Then we went to Skansen, an outdoor zoo, park, village on djurgarden. Then to Llijevalch Museum to see the Munch exhibit. The pieces were very disturbing and difficult to look at with scenes of skeleton-looking faces and dark figures. Then to shopping for gloves and shampoo! Now we will cook dinner (we are allowed to use the kitchen here) and relax some more!

A Versailles kind of day

I'm in bed now reflecting on another amazing day in France.  We got up so late this morning - 11:30am and I couldn't believe we'd wasted the morning. We found a patisserie and bought some cheese and spinach bagettes and made our way toward the bus that would take us to....beautiful Versailles!
     Once the palace of Louis 14th, 16th and 18th and of Marie Antoinette this palace was the most ornate building I've ever visited: gold leaf-edged frames, rich-colored fabrics, story-telling tapestries, huge paintngs, momentos, impressive statues.  A true spectacle to behold.  I stood a little straighter in those immense rooms and took smaller, regal steps, imagining that this was my home. 
     The awesome inside of the palace was only to be matched by the spectacular grounds with its symmetrical hedge-bordered gardens and walking paths overhung with bowing trees.  Both Amy and I loved our day here and we really enjoyed each other's company. In this setting we were not interested in the overtures of two grounds keepers trying to get us to agree to meet them after work. It was just as well because Amy and I started to develop headaches and began feeling ill, Amy getting quite ill on the bus trip back.  We gave ourselves food poisoning we figured, but keeping those spinach and cheese bagettes for too long. So much for saving money!  Needless to say we got back and went straight to our room, leaving it only to attempt some phone calls.
     I called mom and let her know how I was and it was comforting to hear her voice - and the relief in her voice that my phone call brought.
     Good night, mom.

Just like the locals

I'm writing from a park in front of Notre Dame and near Point Neuf on a warm and sunny day. A cool breeze comes along every now an then and the combination keeps me glued to this spot.
     Today Amy and I walked through the Louvre! We were there only 2 hours when AMy said she needed to go back to the foyer to sleep. Of course I told her to go ahead I'd be fine but I really wanted to go with her just so I wouldn't have to face finding my way back to the hotel alone.  But here I am; I will now attempt to spend the day alone in a country in which I don't speak the language save "where is the toilet" and safely return "home" by 4pm. I'm scared but I know I can do it. I think I look like a local today. I've had 2 people come up to me asking me for directions. Je ne pas parl francais I stammered back. They got the point.
     Notre Dame is immense in size and structure. Imagine the foundation for this building were laid in 1000 BC!  In fact there is history wherever I look.  There were children playing all over the "face and hands"sculptures and they didn't seem to notice the history all around them. Not even a passing glance at the Dame. But they will grow up with a sense of belonging to a society with deep roots and a long history. How different from a child growing up in the U.S. where the whole entity is still referred to as 'an experiment in democracy'.  The U.S. is so young compared to Europe and Asia yet we dare to impose our impetuous will on the rest of the world.  I really don't know how the French people feel about Americans.  I just know that U.S. culture has crossed the Atlantic.  So far when I tell people my name is Pamela they say "ah, Pamela Ewing from Dallas".  They must be getting old reruns.  I laugh and smile and say "we, Pamela Ewing" and hope Pamela Ewing is a nice person on the show. 
     Later same day: Getting back to the Louvre - some paintings depicted such human sorrow I started to cry. Such deep emotion and suffering. I only wish I had written down the names of the paintings and artists. I feel so privileged to have seen them and it was kind of nice to take my time and ponder them alone. Being here is already effecting my outlook. I'm not sure how to explain it yet but I'm realizing I want to surround myself with examples of the beauty I am seeing.  I made it successfully back to the foyer by 3pm! I did it and am so proud of myself!
     In the evening we went to a real apartment in Paris (M Javel), home to real French people, namely Isabelle and Jean-Claude. Donna and Bernie took us there. First the 4 of us  joined Isabelle and Jean-Claude and others (Anni, Thierry and Charles-Henri) at the Place de la Concorde where there was a commemorative celebration (of what, I'm not sure). There was a musique and light show, fireworks and a video presentation. It was exciting to be part of the crowd sharing jubilation with real French people. Viva la France! 
     I felt akward not knowing French, though. Bernie (who used to be Donna's boyfriend) did not speak French either so he kept saying "hi, kiddo" to me, in sympathy.  After the celebration we went back to Isabelle and jean-Claude's apartment. They put about 15 bottles of different libations in the middle of a low, round table and people made their own drinks. Everyone was pleasant and smiled politely to me. Amy was engaged in several conversations at a time and I was jealous of her.  After about an hour I was anxious to go but of course, I tried not to let it show. I have got to learn more French! We've been invited to go out for dinner on Friday so I have a few days to learn some words. I'm nervous but it should be fun.  Thierry drove us home.     
     He has the most amazing eyes.

Paris Day 2 in retrospect

We had breakfast in the foyer - cafe au lait served in large bowls along with french bread or bagette as they call it. Maybe this was the official continental breakfast and what I had experienced in the U.S. was only an approximation.  I quite enjoyed the Paris version more and was deteremined to keep up the cofee-in-a-bowl tradition when I returned home.
     After showers we ventured out again, this time to the Arc de Triumph. We took the wrong Metro and had difficulty finding our way for a bit but we arrived and were impressed. We could see all of Paris from the top of the structure. I imagined that drivers took their lives into their own hands by attempting to drive around it.  I'll never forget the image of 12 lanes of traffic merging into and out of this amazing rotary. The climb up was exhausting and I wondered, again, how I would survive 3 months carrying that overpacked pack waiting for me at the hotel. To me there were at least 20 flights of spiralling stairs but it's difficult to keep track of flights when spiralling upward.  From the top I was amazed to see that the Eiffel Tower was very close to there - or at least it appeared that way from the top.
     After that I lost $30f to commission at a banque that we had mistaken for an American Express bank.  I had tried to plan my money based on $20 per day so losing that many francs was upsetting - but I soon got over it.  The Champs Elysees will do that for you. Amy and I enjoyed conversation and more cafe at the Cafe Collert. We discussed personal goals. Amy decided she wants to work on being less impulsive while I want to work on saying No to guys who are interested in me but too aggressive (like Yousef the night before). I was really regretting our kiss.
     Later on we met Amy's friends (Donna, Bernie, Karen, Ellen and Taq) at the Eiffel Tower and had dinner in the Latin Quarter, sitting at an outdoor table. Donna had studied in Paris and was visiting the city at the same time as us so we had arranged this meeting before leaving Massachusetts.  I did see Ali and Joucef later that night and mustered up enough French to tell him "You are my friend only", after which he tried to kiss me, again.  Amy helped me add that I had a boyfriend (a lie), after which he said OK and walked away.   Ali hung back and said he hoped to see us again during our stay.
     After this splendid time with these new companions, Amy and I enjoyed 2 beers at the universite with 2 travellers we struck up a conversation with and then headed back to our hotel. We collapsed on the stairs inside the foyer in a pile of laughter at all we had experienced so far.  Perhaps the laughter was also culture shock or maybe it was just the beer. Either way we went to bed at 2:30am with smiles on our faces.

Living the journey one step at a time
The living of a journey becomes the telling of a story the second you begin sharing it, but where does that story really begin or end? Wouldn’t the initial recognition of your own internal, insistent voice telling you to ‘see the world’ count as the beginning? Wheels are set in motion by allowing yourself to consider going, by asking the question ‘what if’ and finally concluding ‘I can’. To me, these moments, along with the first, flushed-cheek excitement as tickets are purchased are as much a part of the adventure as deplaning in a foreign land. Likewise, the memories of precious moments lived in other times and places remain long after suitcases are returned to basements; memories immediately accessible by the power of recall. The places you had once only dreamed of seeing become part of you and their memory keeps the journey alive.

I lived an incredible adventure when I travelled throughout Europe with my roomate. I’ve had the perspective of time to reflect on that journey and consider why it was so impactful and why I now whole-heartedly encourage anyone contemplating such an adventure to go. What I’ve realized is this: in going and allowing the journey to reveal itself to me one step at a time I changed, becoming someone who learned to appreciate another sort of journey, the one that would continue, after I returned home. Each day is an adventure and my realization of this began in Europe.

This is first day of my European adventure.

After my grandmother died I inherited enough money to make a dream come true and I suppose I did what any 24 yr. old would do who had just inherited eight thousand dollars: I quit my job against the advice of my worried mother and went to Europe with my roommate. The decision to go wasn’t made overnight but it started with what at the time seemed like an unrealistic question - ‘what if’ - but after much consideration ended with an ecstatic conclusion - ‘I can’. Even considering going remains a treasured memory and to me, is where the journey began.

Before I knew it quitting my job and leaving my country to return to no plan whatsoever made complete sense. I purchased a Eurail Pass and an airline ticket and turned ‘I can’ into ‘I am’. "I’m going to Europe", I kept repeating to myself and anyone who’d listen. This was the first time in my life I felt like I was choosing my destiny, in effect, making a dream come true. How I wished my grandmother knew what her gift was enabling me to do.

With a money belt containing $2,500 hugging my waist, a Eurail Pass, a copy of Europe on Twenty Dollars-a-Day and one overpacked backpack in hand, I left Gloucester, MA in September knowing I wouldn’t be back until Christmas and completely unaware that an unrepeatable adventure was just beginning.

I didn’t anticipate the joy I’d feel when the moment arrived and we said goodbye to family an friends who had accompanied us to the airport. I was excited to be going but was unprepared for our reactions after loved-ones disappeared from view and we had passed behind doors for security inspection and baggage checks. Overcome by convulsive laughter that left our abdominal muscles sore and tears streaming down our cheeks we collapsed against a wall and howled, releasing last vestiges of nervousness and unexpressed joy, conscious that we were living the adventure that up until that very moment had been just a dream. There was no need to pinch ourselves - this was really happening.

A college graduate with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Theology, I had considered myself well-educated until the moment I looked around after deplaning at Charles De Gaulle Airport. I was surrounded by words I couldn't recognize, with no idea how to get to Paris. I wondered why I hadn’t better prepared. All I knew was that I couldn’t lose Amy, so with one hand holding fast to her backpack, I followed where she led while she maneuvered us to Paris. I concentrated on looking disinterested in my surroundings so as not to advertise that we were tourists, not considering that our backpacks were sure giveaways. I had anticipated landing safely in France but had not foreseen running smack into culture shock.

An airport shuttle, two trains and several subway stops later, we arrived in Paris to begin our search for a hostel, thankful that our travel book was written in English. The day quickly reached 80 degrees and I made a mental list of what items would be jettisoned from my backpack at the first opportunity. Weariness followed us like a third companion as we made our way from one hostel to another in search of a room and at each location Amy recited the phrase she had been rehearsing during the flight: "Avez-vous des chambres disponibles?"

I couldn’t recognize much of the replies other than non which I understood well enough to mean there were no rooms at the inns. Our first official café -au-laits revived us and, after getting our bearings, we discovered we were near another hostel listed in the guide book, the Centre International on the Rue de Bernadines, near the Latin Quarter. We sighed deep relief when we heard "oui" following Amy’s rehearsed phrase. We sat on our backpacks with backs against the wall and dozed intermittently as we waited for our key.

Two hours later our slumbers were interrupted by a soft clearing of the throat and a few "pardonnez mois". I was glad the desk clerk smiled at us in our present states and she led the way to our room and handed us the key. I managed a "merci" after she said something I hoped wasn’t too important and we stepped in. Two bunk beds, two Spanish-speaking girls from Barcelona and a washroom common to 12 travellers would be home for the next six days - and it felt so good to be home. Giving no thought to the safety of our packs, we slid into our narrow spaces and fell into oblivious sleep.

I almost hit my head on the ceiling when I woke up with a start to silence and darkness about seven hours later. The room was unfamiliar and for a few seconds I couldn’t pinpoint where I was. When I remembered, I thought for sure I had wasted my first night in Paris by sleeping through it. I was glad Amy heard me fumbling around in the dark and then, with lights finally lit, she, like me, hurriedly primped and beautified for our first venture out into the City of Lights.

We emerged from the hostel just after dusk, hungry and ready for our first adventure, meandering away from the hotel toward the Seine River. Checking the map as we went we headed toward the Université, then St. Michel. We could see on the map that Notre Dame would be somewhere in that direction, but were completely caught off guard when glancing up, we realized it was Notre Dame illuminated in the distance beyond the Seine. Its immensity and serene, Gothic beauty and complete unfamiliarity were overwhelming and neither of us could stop ourselves from crying and laughing and hugging right there along the Seine, a moment in time still cherished.

We hurried toward the glorious vision and spent the next two hours sitting in the Notre Dame square amazed we were actually there and trying to remember what the guidebook had told us about the cathedral. I remembered something about flying buttresses and rose windows but didn’t know exactly what to look for. Looking toward the top of the cathedral I imagined gargoyles surveying the city, especially one I had seen in my guide that was holding his face in his hands and giving Paris a perpetual raspberry. I couldn’t wait until we could climb the 387 stairs to the Gallerie des Chimères when I’d meet them all face to face. We remembered that the Celtic tribe, the Parisii, had once lived on the Ile de la Cité and gave the city its name.

We would have stayed there contentedly marveling all night had Ali and Joucef not started chatting with us. Not surprisingly two 24-year-olds gaping at Notre Dame at 8:30pm was some kind of Parisian invitation; nevertheless, we delighted in the attention and accents.

"Ah, Pamela Ewing" Ali responded, smiling, after I introduced myself. Evidently, reruns of Dallas were still playing on TV and my first name had preceded me. Tall, thin, dark-haired and dark-skinned, Ali was the first Muslim I’d ever met. Originally from Algeria he was a student who dreamed of moving to New York City to one day join his girlfriend. He knew broken English and told us of the brutal war that led to Algeria’s independence from France in 1962 and the subsequent exodus of French settlers. Part of a minority population he resented how Parisians looked down on Algerians. Despite resentment over the remaining problematic relations between France and Algeria, however, he possessed an abundance of joi d’vivre, serenading us and anyone who would listen with Algerian songs, acapella, while we shook our heads in amazement, delighted that all this was really happening.

Joucef was quiet but his easy laugh showed he enjoyed, and was probably used to, Ali’s performances. A natural-born Parisian, his ruddy, rough features softened when he smiled, the squint of his eyes that it caused making him look especially kind. He wouldn’t sing or speak much English, indicating with a wave of the hand and a quick ‘ne pas’ he didn’t do either very well. I watched how easily Amy conversed in French with both Ali and Joucef and was determined to learn some French while in Europe. Ali seemed content to converse with Amy in either English or French but I could tell Joucef wanted to talk to me, but couldn’t. Smiles and delayed laughter, after Amy would translate for me something spoken between them, were all we could share. I was glad that at least we had the language barrier in common.

After 11:00pm we decided we should head back to the hotel and were thrilled when Joucef and Ali offered to walk us back, as if the first day of our adventure wasn’t perfect enough. They led us through the Latin Quarter, one of the liveliest areas in Paris. Voices, laughter, foreign languages and Greek music converged, hovering all around, while deliciously pungent spices hung in the air and mingled with lingering perfumes and smoke from filterless French cigarettes.

There were so many people it seemed that the only things not in motion were the buildings themselves and the uneven road beneath our feet. I wondered if we wandered into some kind of street festival. Where there wasn’t a continuous procession of bright, unfamiliar fashions and animated faces absorbed in spirited conversations there were arms reaching right and left, exchanging francs for fresh gyros from overworked cooks who leaned out from open-air kitchens to survey the spectacle. Perhaps they were contemplating jumping out and abandoning their posts to join the cavalcade. We each purchased gyros and devoured them eagerly.

We followed the parade, matching stride and spirit. I was intoxicated by it all and it’s no surprise I let Joucef kiss me. I was head-over-heals in love - with Paris.

Just one day since leaving Gloucester, MA, home to courageous fishermen, persistent seagulls and refreshingly sea-scented air, I’d experienced my first case of culture shock; first glimpse of Notre Dame; and first foreign kiss. My adventure was already more marvelous than I had ever conceived. To come would be other firsts, which the journey would reveal one step at a time, just as it had here during my first day in Paris.

© Copyright 2004 by Pamela Hamilton