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Blogs by Paul Cuenco
Europe
12/18/2011 3:16:26 PM
Europe
The beginning is always the most exciting and rewarding part of life; the first day of school, my first date, my first trip here and there. One of the most exciting was a trip to Europe I took in 1981. It really was a choice in studying in Europe or taking a short jaunt to the continent. You see, my school, the University of San Francisco, will not allow me to study abroad that soon. They said that I must be a junior or senior before they will allow me to. I was just beginning my sophomore year. If I did that, then I will have to re-apply for admissions to my university. So, instead of going a full semester, I opted to just go that summer, a month, and explore Europe. I was so excited. When Europeans visit the bank I worked in, I would have small chat ending it by declaring that I will be on my way to Europe. Even mom and big sister are excited for me, too. Sis told me not to miss the Swiss Alps. Mom, at the end of the trip made an album for this trip declaring it to be a first class travel while in actuality, I traveled second class. And boy, even though it’s second class, I adapted well to it. Everywhere I went to I tagged along my suitcases. In the beginning, it was two and two becomes four, four BIG suitcases; and I can handle them all. On the train, on the streets, I carried them. I figured that my first trip to Europe must encompass a variety of countries and cities. So I not only went to Rome, Paris, Brussels and Amsterdam, but I went to small towns to like Liege, Florence and Bonn.
When I arrived at Brussels, I called my mom and declared that I am in Europe. I did not take their subway to their city center. Rather, I took the bus over cobbled streets. The skies are gray but to me, it was sunshiny as a day in Stinson Beach (in California). I found lodging at some youth hostel, deposit my baggage and then begin to explore the town. I promised myself that one day I would be writing about this trip but I did not have the intuition on how to write them. I committed everything to memory…or I wrote snippets of prose or a short poem pertaining to whatever interest me. “Someday, I shall write about it.” I declared.
On the last day of the trip, I met a French doctor on a Burger King joint on Champ Elysees. The whole of Paris was in strike and I have to be at my train station back to Brussels. Taxis are rare. Buses and their wonderful subway were not working. And walking, well, it could take me forever to reach my destination. So this French doctor offered me a ride to my train station; and he gave me some Franc just in case I needed them. As I settle in my couch, two girls peeked into the cabin and ask if the nearby seats were occupied. I said yes. And my partner with whom I struck a conversation earlier said, that I was stupid to say no. And so, I rush back out, found the two girls by the boarding on platform of the car and invited them in.
The rest was history for me. Of course, you will have a ringside exposition of what transpired. But it was indeed an enjoyable and fun-filled escapade. I am too excited to tell you all about this, myself. But it was an exciting escapade because I was among the first in my family to have this type of trip where traveling at a young age, alone and to multiple countries contributed a whole life to my lifetime. That was why perhaps, in the ups and down of my life, remembering these episodes add joie de vivre in a life populated by the boring and dull.
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