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david
and carol
Our Magnificent
Journey | Chapter 1 | Europe 1999 | London, Paris, Venice, Florence |
The Journey Ends
- Homeward Bound - |
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Woke up, showered, finished packing, all in
a state of depression. London was wet from last night's storm
and was foggy, soggy and gray. Beautiful London weather in our
opinion. |
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We retrieved our last pound notes from the
nearby bank machine and had our last breakfast in Europe at the
Hotel Bloomsbury. Typical English breakfast, one last time. |
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One of the desk clerks kindly arranged a taxi
for us at 9:30. The driver, a nice young entrepreneurish Pakistani
of Iranian descent, was truly a character. He never stopped talking
during the hour drive to Gatwick Airport. He was taxiing in order
to continue his pursuit of a commercial airline pilot's license.
He had just lost an entire clothing business due to "politics."
His sister is an aspiring actress in L.A. |
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Our drive took us across the murky Thames,
near the Tower of London, through "dangerous" Brixton
(our taxi driver's description, not ours, and according to an
acquaintance this reference may not be accurate or appropriate,)
out into the beautiful, green rolling English countryside and
through small villages such as Croyden. We savored the gray,
cool, misty morning, and wore our new black leather jackets for
perhaps the last time for quite a while. |
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We pulled into the Gatwick international departure
terminal and our driver kindly checked on the gate for us. We
paid and thanked the lad, and I took a photo of him with Carol.
Our last photo from Europe. We wished him good luck with his
many entrepreneurial endeavors, and walked out of the cool English
mist, into the terminal, and checked in. |
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Too soon, we were boarding Continental Flight
5, another gleaming new Boeing 777, destination the United States.
Although we had contemplated rushing out of the terminal, hailing
a cab and getting "lost" on the continent for a few
years, we sat quietly and dejectedly in our seats, and as the
white steel bird lurched skyward and the wheels finally let go
of the runway and Europe, we were past the point of no return.
No more Tube stations, Metro stations, vaporettos, pubs,
ales, beef pies, French wines, Italian wines, perfect pasta,
fragrant fromage, incredibly fresh seafood, French fries
with either vinegar or mayonnaise, artery-clogging English breakfasts,
Cuban cigars (damn the embargo,) unbelievable art and architecture,
midnight arm-in-arm strolls along deserted Parisian boulevards,
canal-hopping down sidewalk-sized Venetian alleyways, easy-going
no-pressure take-your-time outdoor café dinners, delightful
and patient waiters, funny money, deciphering the exchange rates,
mentally computing tips, lovely Eleni, the soul-stirring Notre-Dame,
Santa Croce or Westminster Abbey, hotel-hopping, ten mile (minimum)
a day walking (each step a delight to be savored,) squinting
at maps, train rides, new friends, authentic gelati, leather
markets, the magnificent rivers Seine, Arno and Thames. Europe
1999 was fading behind us at nine miles per minute. |
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The nine-hour flight to Houston was uneventful
and so depressing that I could not even watch a movie. I relived
our Magnificent Journey. Reading the London Daily Mirror I was
bringing back to give to Dot, my Liverpudlian friend and co-worker,
rubbed salt into my wounds. |
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We finally arrived in Houston 4800 miles later
after watching the coast of the British Isles recede beneath
us, hours above the azure Atlantic, crossing land at Gander,
Newfoundland, travelling down the East Coast to Tennessee, then
heading west across the Mississippi and touchdown in Texas. |
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I must say that Continental's international
flights are impressive. Monitor screens around the plane and
in the entertainment center in front of you keep you informed
every second of the flight's progress - exactly where the plane
is at that moment, how many miles it has traveled thus far, the
times at origin, destination and current location, altitude and
ground speed. Both east- and west-bound flights were comfortable,
the food was exceptional, the service was admirable and we were
given many choices for entertainment. I would rather we were
on a Europe-bound flight however - it was obviously more exciting. |
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We cleared customs in Houston - a no-brainer,
no-stress event. I had been nervous about bring in several Cubanos.
Then we sat, tired, in a terminal in Texas, depressed, for four
hours until our last flight, a two-hour hop back to Tucson. Then
a quiet cab ride home, and our Journey was finally at its end. |
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copyright 1998 / david
and carol lehrman / all rights reserved |
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email david@davidandcarol.com |
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