As we continued our path toward Paris, the names of the places we passed leaped from the road signs. I envisioned high school history books opened to the Great War. Verdun, Ardennes, the Maginot Line. How incredible it was to me that this magnificent countryside might once have been the sight of endless mud, cold rain, trench warfare, mustard gas, blood, and death. How many farms, I wondered as we passed their crops, had once been watered with blood. How far below the surface must one dig to uncover a shell casing, helmet, rifle, bayonet, or bone? History was outside my car window. Consequential, sequential, and still current.
Coming from the United States, it is hard to contemplate the size of Europe. We drove from Germany (slightly smaller than Montana) to France (slightly smaller than Texas), stayed in Luxembourg (slightly smaller than Rhode Island), stayed in Switzerland (slightly less than twice the size of New Jersey), just missed passing through Lichtenstein (slightly smaller than Washington, D.C.), and kissed Austria (roughly the size of South Carolina) on the train from Zurich to Munich. When viewed from the perspective of America (despite our regional and cultural differences), Europe seems quaint. World wars seem more like well-armed neighborhood skirmishes. The fact that an area so small can have countless languages, always a barrier to community cordiality, could only have exacerbated prejudices and fostered nationalistic passions. And America is by no means exempt from history’s gaze.
When visiting San Antonio while living in Houston, we did the obligatory tour of the Alamo. In addition to the diminutive size of the fort, what struck me was the tour itself. “Here is a rock that represents where a wall once stood,” said the audio guide. So much of what remained was reduced to reverence, folklore, and a gift shop. When touring many of the castles, palaces, residences, and “old towns” in Europe, English-speaking audio guides told of how this section of (fill in the blank) represents what originally stood here because the original was blown away during World War II. I do not write this as an accusation or judgment. It was not iconoclasm but brutal warfare that destroyed these architectural gems. And yet, I could not help but yearn for the lost treasures destroyed by the ruthless passions of men.
America has two main deadly exports, both found in European history, modern politics, and among the people. The first is war; perpetual and ever more efficient. Eisenhower’s military-industrial complex continues to thrive, indeed feeding on itself for oxygen. Ramstein Air Force Base exists because of it. We arm both sides of modern conflicts, raking in dollars and ready to respond with lethal interdiction. The second is tobacco. Everywhere we visited locals smoked. Ashtrays are ever-present, and smoke fills every street corner as we wait for the pedestrian light to turn green. Two deadly exports, alive and well across Europe.
And while we Americans wave the flag and chant Make America Great Again, thumbing our nose at our bumper-sticker understanding of socialism, Europeans today live in relative harmony with one another. I found Europeans courteous, patient, law-abiding, and friendly. Drivers routinely defer to others, follow posted speed limits, obey warnings, and arrive safely. American drivers (and Parisian cabbies) ignore all posted speed limits and ignore all rules of the road. And when slighted we Americans, too often respond in road rage and gunfire. Socialism is the appropriate doctrine for specific issues, just as capitalism is the appropriate mechanism for other issues. America’s lack of nuance and knee-jerk aversion to “socialism,” coupled with a worldview ignorance and almost allergic reaction to responsibility makes us look juvenile and unsophisticated when compared to the Europeans.
I can hear you! Stop shouting! “If Europe is so wonderful, why do so many want to move to the United States? After all, we are the greatest country in the world!” First, we are not the greatest in many meaningful categories and they don’t all want to move to America. Every country has a certain percentage of their population who wishes they lived somewhere else. Sit down for this next sentence. So, too, does the United States. There are thriving expat communities the world over, populated by Americans. Second, might not a certain percentage of Europeans want to indulge their juvenile penchants and selfish streak and see America as the place where one can do and say anything they want, essentially without accountability? Or maybe, third, they may see America’s openness through the prism of a European upbringing and see opportunities beyond those available in their small town. You can criticize me for America bashing all you want; these are my travel notes. However, I would rather you consider broadening your horizon to include implementing courtesy, patience, socialism (when appropriate (military costs, public roads)), accountability, and responsibility within the American community.
Mark Twain (an American) said, “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of man and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.”
Another more recent American, the late Anthony Bourdain, said, “If I’m an advocate for anything, it’s to move. As far as you can, as much as you can. Across the ocean, or simply across the river. The extent to which you can walk in someone else’s shoes or at least eat their food, it’s a plus for everybody. Open your mind, get up off the couch, move.”
Travel and return home. You will never return home the same person who left.
“What an astonishing thing a book is. It’s a flat object made from a tree with flexible parts on which are imprinted lots of funny dark squiggles. But one glance at it and you’re inside the mind of another person, maybe somebody dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, an author is speaking clearly and silently inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people who never knew each other, citizens of distant epochs. Books break the shackles of time. A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic.” – Carl Sagan, Cosmos
It may seem strange to begin an article about traveling with a quote about a book but hear me out. Books let us travel the world, even through time and to fantastic places, without leaving our homes. I am not alone in thinking this. John Lubbock wrote, “We may sit in our library and yet be in all quarters of the earth.”
Books are to travel as dreams are to experience. “The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page,” wrote St. Augustine. And for the past two weeks, I have experienced a world beyond my dreams. My wife, sister-in-law, and I traveled to Germany to visit my niece at Ramstein Air Force Base. What was originally a two-week visit to spend time with my sister-in-law’s daughter blossomed into a whirlwind jaunt across several European countries. We landed in Frankfurt, Germany, and traveled to my niece’s apartment in Heiligenmoschel, about thirty minutes from Ramstein. From there we drove to Paris for two days, then we drove to Luxembourg, and back to Heiligenmoschel. From there we took the train from Ramstein to Zurich, Switzerland, went into the Alps to Jungfraujoch, then a train to Munich, a bus to Neuschwanstein Castle, back to Munich, then back to Heiligenmoschel. Then, we drove from Heiligenmoschel to Strasbourg, France before returning to Heiligenmoschel and then Frankfurt for the flight home. Home to our little corner of the world, same as before but we were different.
My initial thoughts, driving through Germany and western France were of the stunning beauty of the landscape. We drove in late fall; however, the summer was longer than usual (climate change?) and the trees still exhibited their autumnal magnificence. Colors orange, red, green, and yellow danced on the trees as we whisked by them, bidding us stop to appreciate their performance. The rolling hills and bright green winter crops made me think I had jumped into my Windows start-up screen.
Paris is Paris. It’s a big city with big city swagger. History drips from every street corner. It is big, loud, frenetic, always moving, almost breathing, and teeming with people. Locals mix with tourists and every restaurant seems full. Cabbies are nuts and motorcycles, scooters, and bicycles swarm around cars like fruit flies around overripe bananas. And yet, somehow, it works for them. I love big cities and Paris is wonderful. The Louvre is closed on Tuesdays, so we did not get to see the world’s greatest museum. However, I checked off the Pantheon on my bucket list on this trip, revisited the Eifel Tower, Sainte-Chapelle, ate at a charming local restaurant so small we felt part of the conversation at the loud table next to us, and had dinner on a boat cruising the Seine. To see the transformation of a church (Sainte-Geneviève) into a revolutionary monument was incredible. Visiting evidence of the earth spinning while watching Foucault’s pendulum took my breath away. So, too, did visiting the mausoleum and visiting the graves of Victor Hugo, Voltaire, Rousseau, Marie Curie, Alexandre Dumas, Josephine Baker, Emile Zola, and other luminaries. Paris has so much to offer, one visit is not enough. This was my second visit; still, there is so much to see. I could go on and on about Paris, however, others have written about it better than I could ever attempt.
Sainte-Chapelle, there are no words to capture its beauty
From Paris, we drove to Luxembourg. Like New York, there is a Luxembourg City. We stayed in a magnificent Airbnb apartment just outside the city in Strassen. We took the free bus into the city and walked around most of the day, eyes turned upward as each corner revealed yet another postcard view. Luxembourg City is essentially built on and around a steep hill. Houses seem carved into the scenery. The Grund is the lowest point and the view up from there to the cathedral and bridges is awe-inspiring. When viewed from the top, the view down is equally spectacular.
The Grund, Lux City
Where Paris is potentially overwhelming, Lux City is approachable and digestible. The architecture alone is worth a visit. Appreciating the history there for your taking if you take the time to look and listen is everywhere in front of you. We also drove to Vienden Castle and were overwhelmed by the magnificence of the castle. Home to two families over about 33 million years (or so it seemed), the castle was the first of many we toured. Like many castles, it sits above the town, commanding an inspiring view. Here again, the photos I’ve seen that we took do not do what we saw justice.
Vienden Castle
Zurich, Switzerland was our next stop. Ostensibly just a spot we had to visit to catch the tour to the Alps, Zurich, too, found its way into our hearts with its architecture, friendliness, shopping, and food. Again, local friendliness helped transport us from tourists to travelers and we took advantage of it to eat the local cuisine. It is somehow off-putting to see a KFC, a McDonald’s, or a Starbucks when so many local eateries offer travelers a way to visit their city via senses other than visual.
Zurich, Switzerland
My wife, Stacey, and I visited Colorado a few years ago. The elevation almost wrecked me when we took a day trip to Vail. Outside tourist t-shirt shops were displays offering tiny oxygen tanks. They sold shirts with slogans such as “Oxygen is Overrated” and “Sea Level is for Wimps.” Against that backdrop, we took a bus from Zurich to Interlaken and Grindelwald on this trip before taking the Eiger Express gondola to Jungfraujoch. I read the Eiger Sanction in my late teens! Trevanian was one of my favorite authors (The Eiger Sanction, The Loo Sanction, Shibumi, The Summer of Katya), and here I was looking at the North Face, sheer, snow-covered, intimidating, and beautiful. Marketed as the Top of Europe, Jungfraujoch sits between two higher peaks and requires a cog train from the gondola to reach it. My chest tightened with the lack of oxygen at 11,300 feet and as dehydrated as I was, my head hurt so much it flipped my stomach. Matched with my broken foot, and I looked quite the mess. Still, it did not stop me (or any of us); we have the photographs and memories to prove it.
View from the Eiger Express gondola
Eiger, North Face
View from Jungfraujoch
Munich, like Zurich, was meant simply as a weigh station to catch buses to other locations. And like Zurich, Munich melted our hearts with its charm, beauty, architecture, and food. Yes, I ate my way across Europe and always the local cuisine. On the day we were to catch the tour bus, it was my wife who didn’t feel well, and early in the morning, I found myself racing against a deadline to get her meds. I limped from hotel to hotel looking for gift shops, finding none, and then limping to a pharmacy and waiting outside until it opened. Limping quickly across Munich, I felt a little like Jason Bourne in The Bourne Supremacy. However, I knew who I was, knew my limitations, and knew I couldn’t drop a dachshund never mind elite assassins. Armed with her remedy, I limped back to the hotel to find my traveling partners waiting at the corner to proceed to our tour bus.
New Town Hall, Munich
Our destination that morning was Neuschwanstein Castle. You may know it as the basis for Disney’s Sleeping Beauty Castle in California and Cinderella Castle in Florida. Before Neuschwanstein Castle, our tour took us to Linderhof Castle. Both were built for King Ludwig II. He’s an interesting character whose life and untimely, early death at 40 are wrapped in mystery. If you get a chance, read up a bit on him. You will be as charmed and confused by him as me, I promise. Linderhof is a “small” castle where Ludwig II lived for eight years. It is in the high, European Rococo style, ornately decorated with organic swirls and gold leaf everywhere. It is overdone by today’s sensibilities and garish in its opulence.
Linderhof Castle
Neuschwanstein Castle is very different. It is a monument to Ludwig’s admiration of the operas of Richard Wagner, his increasing isolation, and his identification with medieval royalty. While beautiful and much larger than Linderhof, the tour allowed access to little of the castle. Armed with my Disney fandom, wrapped in memories of having breakfast with my small children and the Disney princesses inside Cinderella Castle, I left Neuschwanstein a little dejected. I couldn’t help but think the castle might have been the first version of Michal Jackson’s Neverland, itself built by someone removed from society with access to seemingly endless vision and money.
Neuschwanstein Castle
The last city we visited was Strasbourg, France. A national rail strike in Germany prevented us from taking the train, forcing us to drive from Ramstein’s train station. Strasbourg mesmerized us again with its charm, architecture, accessibility, and food. As mentioned above, there were several times when every turn seemed to reveal another postcard view of cities. Nowhere was that more evident than in Strasbourg. Literally, I would stop, photograph a wonderful view, and while still breathing in the sight before me, turn and see another, equally amazing sight. This was even though we only saw the sun on our two-week trip during our drive to Paris the first day and part of the next day. Every other day was raw and cold coupled with either overcast, drizzle, or outright pouring rain.
Charming La Petite France, Strasbourg
It was the trip of a lifetime. Paulo Coelho said, “One day you will wake up and there won’t be any more time to do the things you’ve always wanted. Do it now.” I always think of the picture I once saw of the elderly couple asleep on the gondola in Venice. They say, “Carpe Diem!” Seize the day. I would adjust that to seize the day while you can still enjoy it (“carpe diem dum potes adhuc frui est,” if Google Translate is to be trusted.) My wife and I have worked hard and now enjoy a bit of disposable income. Better it be used on travel, expanding our understanding of the tiny planet we inhabit, than on other less expansive vices.
I thank my niece for her hospitality, my sister-in-law for her willingness to share her time with her daughter, and my wife for giving me the life I now enjoy.
I found many other wonderful book/travel quotes in researching this piece. I share my other favorites below:
“The traveler sees what he sees. The tourist sees what he has come to see.”
– G.K. Chesterton
“There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign.”
– Robert Louis Stevenson
“If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion, and avoid the people, you might better stay home.”
– James A. Michener
“Travel brings wisdom only to the wise. It renders the ignorant more ignorant than ever.”
– Joe Abercrombie
“I heard an airplane passing overhead. I wished I was on it.”
– Charles Bukowski
“In the meantime, there is not an hour to lose. I am about to visit the public library.”
– Jules Verne
“Travel improves the mind wonderfully and does away with all one’s prejudices.”
– Oscar Wilde
“To travel hopefully is better than to have arrived.”
– Robert Louis Stevenson
“Once the travel bug bites there is no known antidote, and I know that I shall be happily infected until the end of my life.”
– Michael Palin
“Borders? I have never seen one. But I have heard they exist in the minds of some people.”
– Thor Heyerdahl
“It’s temples and palaces did seem like fabrics of enchantment pil’d to heaven.”
– Percy Bysshe Shelley
“Nothing can. Be compared to the new life that the discovery of another country provides for a thoughtful person. Although I am still the same I believe to have been changed to the bones.”
– Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
“Every Englishman abroad, until it is proven to the contrary, likes to consider himself a traveler and not a tourist.”
Thoughts at Large 