Excerpts from a Travel Journal

At the age of 71, I decided to take my first trip overseas. I made this journey alone, without the benefit of wife, daughter, friends, elves or dwarves. That I chose to take this trip so late in life is what officially qualifies me as  an idiot. I travelled with only one hundred pounds, just as many Euros, a credit card, a suitcase, backpack, notebook, reliable pen, passport and a heaping plastic bag filled with prescription medications. In case of emergency, I had a note pinned to the inside of my wool coat that read. “If I am lost and wandering aimlessly an unfamiliar neighborhood, please contact my wife.”
 
Instructions sent to all United States Embassies
 
If I am abducted by extremists and beheaded on local cable access as an act of defiance against the recent actions of United States of America, hey, I fully understand. I get it.
 
If I am sold into white slavery and human trafficking…this is really a tough one. On one hand…  While on the other, the human trafficking deal might just require another prescription from my physician. 
(Note: This crack is in no way condoning the real heinous crime of sex trafficking. I was only suggesting that if they intended on utilizing me as a Turkish Top, I may require further medical assistance.)
 
If I should suddenly disappear unexpectedly without a trace, the act most likely happened on purpose and of my own free will. I will notify my government, my wife and family in my own good time.

"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness".        Mark Twain.
 
As stated earlier, I fully realize I am an  idiot for waiting so long to finally decide to travel to Europe. Further proof was in the back of my mind, I mistakenly thought the collected James Bond 007 movie library would be enough to quell any sense of adult wanderlust. That turned out not to be  the case. There were far too many other examples that proved my qualifications for the title and special designation of Coddiwompling Nincompoop. All of these actions all took place during my journey and will certainly verify that the continuing self-depreciation is warranted. 
 
Among them:
 
*A basic failure of the understanding of the Economy Plus seat instructions on a British Airways Air Bus A380. 
*Fumbling and dropping my “Rick Steves Travel Wallet at least three times in highly visited tourist destinations. 
*The losing of one pair of prescription sunglasses.
*The loss of a watch.
*Ordering hamburger medium-rare in France.
*A nearly depilating case of Norovirus that the maids in a small boutique hotel in Paris have most likely still not forgotten me for.
 
Already sounds too damn exciting, doesn’t it? If you are lucky, and I remember, you may hear more grueling details of these escapades later!  
 
For the next several weeks, these excerpts of thoughts and observations from my travel journal will document my misadventures in Europe. These entries are intended for solely for entertainment purposes only and is in no way any form of  legitimate travel journalism or guide. 

​Next Week: Getting There