"You Forgot These,"

“You Forgot These,”

“Camille, you know we can get first class Eurail passes for unlimited travel this summer.”

“Wow”, I said. Daydreams appeared in my inner vision: visiting the Alhambra in Spain, Gothic Cathedrals in France, the Parthenon in Greece. Most particularly I had long dreamed of seeing the great works of art in the museums of Europe. And of course, I hoped to meet a few international gentlemen.

“But Robby, you know I only speak English. How will I be able to get around in Europe for a month if I’m unable to communicate?”

“You’ll be just fine. Everyone in Europe speaks English.”

Yet another exaggeration from my dear friend, my charming friend Robby, so young at 21 yet so sophisticated already.

Since age 14 Robby had spent part of his summers in New York City with his great aunt, Grandmother’s sister. Aunt Noll was a famous writer of a hugely popular children’s book character. Her books for children were bestsellers and much loved. Aunt Noll was well connected to the New York cultural literati and influential friends from the NYC arts community often visited her 57^th Street apartment for soirees. Young nephew Robby was precocious. At Aunt Noll’s parties, he spoke intelligently and eloquently with adults and made important connections easily, namely with a curator at MOMA and with a Circle in the Square Theater benefactor.

Years later, Robby was back home in Georgia, spending his evenings with me. After working at our jobs at the television station, he in master control, and I as staff artist, we meticulously began planning our European itinerary. “We’re going to France and Germany and Spain for sure and of course Italy. And you’d love to visit Holland, you said. I especially want to take in an opera in Paris. And don’t forget we want to take a day cruise down the Rhine.” What beautiful dreams.

At his apartment subsidized by Grandmother, Robby spread out languidly on the beige carpet, a pewter cup filled with Coke in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I became enchanted as Robby spoke about visiting Rome with his cousins after high school graduation. His ecstatic descriptions of the Bernini sculptures finally had me convinced.

So it was that Robby and I took a vacation from work and set off for a month of travel by rail in Europe. As a naïve young woman little did I know that my never-before-dreamed-of adventures were waiting to be unleashed.

Thanks to Grandmother’s largesse, Robby had the funds to treat us to a 5-day stay in a glamorous hotel in Paris, the first stop on our itinerary. Our neighborhood was home to iconic landmarks like the Louvre Museum and the Tuileries Garden all located on the right bank of the Seine River. Mon Dieu, I was in heaven!

By day we walked and walked even more. We ambled around the city getting lost in charming neighborhoods imagining that we could be walking on streets where Picasso, Matisse or Modigliani may have trod. We found inexpensive restaurants and dined on French cuisine: artichoke hearts doused in butter, stuffed butternut squash, just plucked lettuce with creamy mustard dressing, and Provençal beef stew. Perfect faire for traditional French meals. Window shopping at patisseries, we chose pastries: chocolate eclairs, lemon tartlettes, and opera cakes to take back to our hotel. We would later enjoy these sweet delights with café au lait ordered from room service. Vive la France!

At the Louvre we walked throughout the nine miles of corridors stopping in to visit the galleries that most appealed to us. We walked until we were exhausted then returned to our hotel to make plans for our evening.

After showering and dressing Robby announced that he was going out for the evening - without me. “You’ll find a nice restaurant in this neighborhood, Camille. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time.”

What? I was puzzled. Why weren’t he and I going out together for a night on the town? What was happening to my dream of meeting international gentlemen? Well, I would soon find out how the international gentlemen dream would reveal itself and ultimately play out in a most unexpected way.

“I’m going to The Crazy Horse tonight,” Robby declared, “and I hope to get to the Lido and maybe even the Moulin Rouge! Maybe I’ll even go dancing at The Labo.” Adventurous young man indeed.

Needless to say, Robby did not return until the afternoon of the next day. He’d met a French woman named Barbara and was giddy with excitement as he told me that he would be seeing her again tonight at her apartment in Saint-Germain-des-Prés. So, I knew then that Robby had had fun on his evening out. And truthfully, so did I. Looking for an outdoor restaurant around nine o’clock in The City of Lights, I sauntered, no I sashayed down the boulevard. Seated at an outdoor table, an attractive lady and a gentleman stopped me and asked, “Are you an American movie star?” Oh, the visual appeal of sashaying.

On the “day after” Robby invited me to go out and drink pernod, a French anise-flavored liqueur made with a blend of botanicals, I later learned. I’d never heard of this drink much less tasted it, so I readily agreed to the outing.

In the early afternoon we found a lively outdoor café and Robby first uttered his often-repeated affirmation: “I feel very, very French.” I smiled. Dramatic Robby.

He kept buying and we kept drinking. Another Kronenbourg, s'il vous plait. We shared stories of our nights out, the places we went and the people we met when Robby suddenly revealed “Barbara is Bob, Robert, and he’s invited me to stay with him for the rest of my trip at his apartment in the artsy arrondissement Saint-Germain-des-Prés.” Very, very, very French. “You have the itinerary, so I know you’ll have a wonderful time exploring Holland and Spain and Germany and Greece or wherever your heart takes you.” How could I deny Robby his exciting adventure? But did I have the courage to accept this challenge?

As it turned out Robby’s instincts were again spot on. A few days later I boarded a train at Gare de Lyon heading south to Italy. With my first class Eurail Pass I knew that I could get off the train anywhere I pleased as I cruised toward The Eternal City of Rome.

Looking out my train window beholding the beautiful landscapes of Europe as they zoomed by, I contemplated this dramatic turn of events. Was there a deeper meaning to this unexpected change? Was this significant, a harbinger for an important discovery or perhaps a development of my self-awareness?

A journey of self-discovery. I’d approached this travel experience as a Romantic on the traditional Grand Tour through Europe with Italy as my key destination. Art, culture, and architecture. This 17^th - 19^th century custom had me fancying myself as an upper-class young American discovering the wonders of Europe and beyond. Yes, and beyond. This Grand Tour had me contemplating a higher purpose though. It now felt more like the myth of The Hero’s Journey. If I chose to embark on my Heroine’s Journey, on this quest I knew that I would face challenges, ones that hopefully would awaken me to a higher consciousness, to opportunities for understanding and for seeing my inner and outer worlds in heightened color. What would be my great gift from my Heroine’s Journey? I will return home transformed.

Challenge accepted. With this new way of looking at the world, I adopted a fresh perspective. Every person I met on this journey would have something important to share with me. Every experience would be precious. Enriched by these life-changing places and encounters, I would be inspired to return a priceless treasure to those I met - a memory of a cherished connection of the heart.

Each memorable encounter for me became truly valued: meeting a beautiful Dutch boy on his way to Spain with friends on a camping trip; a debate on the train with an Iranian family about the evils of the American government; bumping into the mother of a neighbor’s child from Savannah as our train was pulling into Venice; encountering a terrified professor on the Rialto Bridge who begged me to travel with her; sharing ideas in Florence with young people my age who were studying the restoration of gilded artworks. I ran into them again later in Munich; a marriage proposal in Rome from an international gentleman from Tel Aviv.

There are many more stories to tell about extraordinary experiences that expanded my awareness of the wonders of our lives. These many small experiences might have been overlooked had I not been tuned into a quote attributed to Albert Einstein: “There are two ways of looking at life. One as if nothing is a miracle and another is as if everything is a miracle.”

Too soon my time in Europe was winding down as I boarded a train one afternoon heading back to Paris from Rome. I had visited Notre Dame and marveled at the stained-glass windows. I had seen an exhibition of hand painted blue and white pottery in Delft. In Germany I sampled schnitzel, sauerbraten, and bratwurst. And in Rome I had realized my dream of seeing Italian Renaissance paintings and the astonishing artistry of the sculptor Bernini.

In every city I walked, and I walked some more eventually developing painful blisters on both feet. Since I was in Italy and needing new footwear, I decided to buy a pair of fine leather sandals – the sexy Roman kind with straps around the ankles. My blisters had not had time to heal before I boarded the train for my return trip. As I entered a first-class compartment, I was delighted to see that it was empty. And so, I felt comfortable removing my Roman sandals exposing my blisters to the open air but also exposing my dusty feet thinking no one would mind. I was a free spirit, and a bit naïve to think that everyone was as open-minded as I was.

And of course, a middle-aged dignified-looking couple entered and sat across the compartment from me. The woman took one look at my feet and said, “First Class.” I smiled, held up my Eurail Pass and responded, “Yes, first class.”

The couple spoke French to one another and the wife (I assume) had a haughty expression frozen on her face. Pearl clutching, she was, and I knew she was thinking, “How dare that arrogant American!” The side-eyes continued. Her repulsion at my impolite intrusion into her faux upper class society posturing was amusing. I chose to ignore her sneering and obvious disgust with me. And I was an American to add insult to injury!

The couple’s stop came, and Madame Defarge gave me one last dirty look before she departed. The American’s head should roll!

The train had not yet pulled out of the station when I spied something lying on the seat where Madame had been sitting. This important item had been forgotten by my compartment-mate. I picked it up and hurried out onto the platform.

“You forgot these,” I said as I handed Madame her glasses. Her face flushed and I sensed her embarrassment. Did she perhaps feel guilty? Contrite? Humbled?

She accepted her glasses. “Thank you,” she spoke in English and smiled.

Was Mme. Française aware enough to recognize a lesson in this experience? Perhaps she was touched by my act of kindness? Will she always remember our encounter as special, significant, just as I have? My own change in consciousness came by being aware of everyday miracles in Europe and in life. During my exploration I awakened to my hidden potential for greater curiosity, discovery, and creativity. I saw the world now with fresh eyes.

During one lovely summer a lifetime of wonders was unleashed.

Caroline Woodruff, 1988 words