by David McGuffin | Dec 26, 2007 | David's Journal
I’m chronicling my first “Big Group Band Trip” to Europe in 1997 and trying to draw some comparisons to the Europe travel experience of today. Continuing my journal entry…
“June 6, 1997
We arrived in Paris at 9:15 a.m.. After clearing customs we were met by our EF tour guide, Lisa. She so far seems to be super! We transferred (by private bus, with an Italian driver named Alberto) to our hotel ‘Residence Internationale de Paris,’ 44 rue Louis Lumiere.
Right now we are in our hotel, our luggage is stored, and we are meeting with Lisa and being briefed on Paris and the Metro.
After leaving the hotel we took the Metro to Montmartre (Anvers stop-this has the famous Art Nouveau entrance). Here we ate lunch consisting of hotdog with cheese (15FF) and a Diet coke (10FF) at the foot of the Sacre Cour. The we hiked up many steps to the Basilica and went inside. It was somewhat impressive if for nothing but its size alone. The views from here are great; you can see all of Paris looking South across the river. If you lean out and look way to the right, you can even see the Eiffel Tower.
We then toured the old town of Montmartre where the Bohemian artists gathered (in the mid 20th century). Today the place is still filled with artists gathering to sketch, draw, and sell portraits. Sarah, Sabrina, and Carey got sketches done of themselves (20FF-150FF).
I am feeling OK-not too much jet-lag! But I think this is due to my sleeping on the flight over. Holly hurled and Leslie is not feeling too well either. All I can remember is how I felt in Amsterdam in 1995, so I sympathize with them.
From Montmartre, we went by subway to the old market place with outside vendors of fruit called Rue de Sentier (MO:Sentier). A brief walk through took us to our restaurant for the evening called the “Hippopotomus.” Here we dined on white rice, chicken ka-bobs, salad, and chocolate mousse. Coke Light was purchased for 10FF.
After eating, we ‘Metro-ed’ to the hotel where I immediately fell asleep. The kids and other parents did as well.
December 2007 Reflections-
If I remember correctly, clearing security and customs was a breeze. It was in the “old” Terminal I Charles De Gaulle. I remember thinking that I’d seen these inclined escalators and walkways (housed in a tube) in a James Bond movie. Today that place seems so “old” and run down. Last summer, we went through Terminal I several times and it seemed they were always working on the place with new sheetrock, barriers, and layouts.
Montmartre has not changed much in fifty years. So, when I took my students there in 1997, it was pretty much like being there today. Rounding the corner, as you head to the left of the Sacre Cour, the local artists and sketchers still hound you to get a portrait or sketch. No matter what, there is always a “good deal.” Keep walking and the price will go down, and down , and with just a hint of interest, down even more.
Hotdogs and Diet Coke! What was I thinking! Now-a-days I walk the 200+ steps to the Sacre Cour, give everybody a chance to look around, catch their breath, and see inside. Then we would head uphill and around the corner to Montmartre, fight the artist gaunlet, and visit Place du Tertre.
For a snack of soup, cheese, or salad, there is no place better the one of the cafes surrounding Place du Tertre. Mix that with a coffee or glass of wine and the ambiance is devine. For a more substantial dining experience, walk on down toward the windmill and find a local place. I’ve got plenty of suggestions for dinner.
How about that exchange rate?!
15FF for a hotdog= $1.50USD back then
10FF for a coke light= $1.00USD
sketches and paintings 20FF-150FF=$4-20USD
Rue de Sentier, that’s near the Borse, and that’s just a short distance from the “market area” I referred to known as les Halles. This grand market place is no longer there, in fact it was leveled in 1971 and replaced with a pitiful underground marketlace, now a major RER station.
The Hippopotomus! White rice, kabobs, etc….one of the main reason I decided to venture out on my own. There is soooo much more to Parisian cuisine than this!
And I can’t leave without discussing the hotel Residence Internationale de Paris. This place is OK, but it was way, way, way out on the outskirts of the city center. It took a 30 minute Metro ride with several changes just to get to Notre Dame. The neighborhood was a little sketchy with hookers on the streets between Metro stops. Don’t get me wrong, I even used this place once after founding my tour company, but there is a lot better to be had for the price in Paris.
So end my discourse on tour reflections from June 6, 1997. Hope you’ve gained a little travel insight!
-David
by David McGuffin | Dec 25, 2007 | David's Journal, Destinations
Me and My Dad circa 1957
I’ve always been a little sentimental about memories. When I was a kid, I remember spending hours at my grandparents’ home looking through old black and white family photos. These photos were kept in the “middle room” in the bottom right drawer of a dresser. Back then, in the 1960’s, the collection of photos contained photos of my grandparents and parents taken from the 1930’s and 1940’s. My Uncle Bob, the oldest child of my grandparents, was interested in photography when he was in college and had left quite a collection of photographs in that drawer.
While browsing through those faded black and white photos, I always enjoyed identifying phots of relatives, taken in their younger days. But what really interested me was the locations in which they were taken. I dreamed of distant places and new locales, even if they were just “back home” in South Carolina or at the local zoo.
Later when I was in college, Charlotte and I actually wrote letters to one another, and we still have them today. Those handwritten letters are sometimes funny to look back upon and read. It’s funny, but I can always remember the exact locale, circumstances, or events to which we referred in those letters. I guess that’s why when I was about to depart on a big trip to Europe, I decided to purchase a leather bound journal to record my thoughts, reflections, and memories.
So in June 1997, I set off on a band performance tour to Europe organized by EF Educational Tours. Now, those of you who have known me for some time, know that EF Tours is the reason I started my tour company, Exploring Europe. But at that time, I did not have the know-how or the resources to set up a tour to Europe, much less a performance tour! So, I relied on a tour company to plan and organize the tour, our accomodations, transportation, dining, and performance venues. Here is an entry from the first pages of my 1997 journal:
“June 5, 1997-
Today, we were up at 7 a.m. in Middleburg (FL) doing the last minute stuff that always makes me late. Why Charlotte picked this day to get her hair cut and frosted is beyond me, but she did! I left for the bank, school, and last minute errands by 8:30 and began my rush to get things done here at home. The most important stop was at our bank to get Traveler’s Checks. I arrived back home at 10 a.m. and met up with my kids and some friends for our trip to the airport. We still had to make a stop at the “hair place” to pick up Charlotte and Brian, and by the time we got there, it was pouring rain. After our first of many “passport and moneybelt checks,” we were on our way.
We arrived at the airport by 11:35 a.m. and found the Continential Airlines check-in desk. Benny, the agent there, was very helpful with getting our group checked in and most importantly, getting all our instruments on free of charge. By 12:30 the whole group had checked in and we all walked down to the gate.
Finally at 2:30 p.m. we departed Jacksonville and were off on our adventure. After about two hours, we arrived at Newark. In transit, we flew over Manhattan and I got my first look at New York City. The Empire State Building, World Trade Center Twin Towers, and Statue of Liberty were pretty darn impressive, especially for a country boy from Middleburg.
To get in the European spirit, we had pasta at “Sabbaro” in Newark airport, then hung out for about two hours. We boarded Flight #56 at 7:25 p.m. and were off the ground by 8:30. The flight was uneventful – I slept most of the time due to my taking two Bayer PM. We also had ear plugs and an eye mask which really helped me sleep.”
My Reflections in December 2007:
How I’ve changed in those ten years! Traveler’s Checks, Bayer PM, eye masks, quick airline check-in, and the World Trade Center are things of the past. Now-a-days, I use my debit card to get local cash, I have a glass of wine instead of Bayer PM, the World Trade center is no more, and my cap or hat takes the place of the eye mask.
There is more to come with this trip; we aren’t even in Europe yet! Needless to say that trip must have had a lasting impression on me. Now nearing the end of 2007, I’ve got a collection of nine leather bound journals chronicling my adventures in Europe and the rest of the world. I hope you’ll enjoy reading about me and my travels.
November 2011 Update:
I am turning my “pen and paper” journal into an online episodic account of my travels. This is the first in a weekly series that will appear over the next few months. If you have questions, comments, suggestions, or just want to add more information, I’d love to hear from you. Simply click the {comments} tab below and type away.
Episode 2 arriving November 14, 2011
-David
by David McGuffin | Dec 23, 2007 | Uncategorized
After a flight up from Madrid, we arrived at Paris’ Charles de Gaulle airport by mid-afternoon. I rented a small car and soon we were out of the airport and on the highway toward Paris. It being Friday afternoon, I was prepared for some traffic jams, but so far it didn’t seem too bad. The highway leaving the airport was virtually traffic free, but by the time we reached the Périphérique, Paris’ big ring-road around the city center, we were in bumper-to-bumper traffic. It wasn’t quite at a stand-still, but we were inching along at less than 10 mph.
Knowing Paris and its traffic, I figured we were in store for at least an hour of stop-and-go traffic. But surely by the time we turned off the Périphériqueand headed southwest it would thin out to nothing. After two hours and less than 20 kilometers, I knew it would be hours before reaching Amboise. To make matters worse we had no hotel reservation, no real plan for the next two days, and no plans for tonight’s dinner. But getting to Amboise in the afternoon was out of the question with this traffic.
Luckily I had my GPS unit with me and we got it up and running. After another hour on the highway, and in this traffic, we finally found a two-laned road that would take us through the countryside to the Loire Valley. Well anything was better than sitting in this traffic for hours on end…so we took the little road.
Immediately there was no traffic, the road was clear, and it was smooth sailing. Uhmm…that is until we came to the first town. Friday afternoon must be the time for everyone to get out and go somewhere because there was lots of traffic. But it was no where near as bad as that we had encountered on the highway. The next hour passed with us speeding our way in the rural areas between each little town and then slowing down in the town centers. This wasn’t bad though. We got to experience several small rural towns in France like we lived there.
By now it was getting late, probably close to nine o’clock. I’d planned on finding a hotel in Amboise, but that was still an hour away. It really didn’t matter what time we arrived as long as we could get rooms for the night and a good meal. We were somewhere along the Loire River near Chambord when I saw it…and drove right on by. I know we had a goal and destination in mind, but that place back there looked like my kind of place. So at the next round-a-bout I did a 180 and decided we were going back to check it out.
The place was an old two-story stone building with lots of ivy climbing up the side. There, in huge painted-on letters, was a sign advertising “Hotel** and Grill.” Even with my limited French vocabulary I could tell we probably could find rooms and food. Pulling into the gravel parking lot I knew I’d made a good choice. There were several cars and the people milling around all were speaking French. I walked into the lobby and really had to dig deep into my French vocab to ask if they had two rooms and dinner. The lady at the desk said “no problem” offered a really good price and booked us for dinner too.
After settling in we walked back downstairs for dinner. The restaurant was just what you’d think a farmhouse grill would look like at home. In sort of the “Cracker Barrel” style there was ancient tools and stuff hanging from the walls and ceiling. On one wall there was a huge stone fireplace complete with a cozy fire. Large picture windows looked out in the back towards a little garden and the wheat fields beyond. I think we were one of the last seatings of the evening because all the other tables were either empty or filled with people involved in dessert or conversation.
The food was wonderful! Natalie and I had escargot, an assortment of duck, steak, vegetables, and dessert. All was washed down with the local Loire Valley wine. La Ferme des 3 Maillets is one of those rare finds that only happen if you let go of your inhibitions and get off the beaten path. Even though the staff spoke very little English and Natalie and I spoke very little French ,we all managed to get our points across and have a great time.
Often, I have people ask about the idea of the “French being a bit arrogant.” First of all, I don’t buy into it idea and secondly, the staff at the inn were wonderfully hospitable. They went out of their way to make our dinner and stay a grand experience. I’d go out of my way to eat and stay here again.
Recently, I’ve tried to research this place on the internet. I can’t find a website and very little search results on the web. But if you are ever in the Loire River Valley near the town of Avaray, find La Ferme des 3 Maillets stay a night, have a great dining experience, and really get a chance to explore another side of France.
-David
by David McGuffin | Dec 22, 2007 | Adventures in Tour Guiding, Culture & Customs, Destinations
David’s note: This Journal entry was originally written in June 2007 details my adventure “driving” in Spain.
A few weeks ago my friends and I decided to explore a town which I’d never visited. We were in southern Spain, in the region known as the “route of the white villages.” This region is very mountainous and rugged, but dotting many of the hilltops are villages with their houses all decked out in bright white paint. We decided to visit one such village known as Arcos de la Fronteria.
Our group consisted of only 6 people, but we had a 9 passenger VW Van which made our travels quite comfortable…except for today. We arrived at the “bottom” of the town and practically drove right into the big underground garage. I thought this was great because it cuts down majorly on the stress of driving in a new place. However, we soon discovered that this was not the place we had read about in the guidebooks. We were looking for a hilltop medieval village.
After looking around a bit we decided the “town” we were in was considered the “new town” (only about 400 years old) and the one which we were looking for was a little farther up the hill. So…I asked a couple of people where the old town was and they all pointed uphill and spoke rapidly in Spanish which I totally did not understand. However, I did understand the pointing uphill part, so I felt reasonably confident that we should leave the comfort of the underground garage and drive uphill.
So up the hill, we went. Imagine a big white VW Van barreling up a steep cobbled street that is only a couple of feet wider than our vehicle. There were five people leaning forward, looking in all directions, trying to read street signs and give me hints on directions and driving styles. At this point, we were doing well. We even saw a couple of signs announcing the plaza we were seeking.
A delivery van was in front of us. That, plus us, made the only two vehicles going up the steep little street. But for the moment it was a street and all was well. Luckily the street was “one way” mostly because there was no way in the world two vehicles could pass each other. Soon the delivery van veered off to the left and we were faced with a decision…following him in a direction where there was maybe vehicular traffic, or go right into the unknown. I veered left and followed the delivery truck.
It wasn’t long before we all realized this was a mistake. The small road we had traveled uphill on had dwindled to nothing more than mere cobbled lane with not more than twelve inches of clearance on either side of the van. There was absolutely no place to turn around, so we followed the van. By now all my friends had quit giving advice…probably because there was none to give now.
We slowly came around a corner and found the delivery van had stopped and the driver was shouting to someone inside a house. We sat there a bit and soon a tiny garage door opened and the van squeezed in. Uh…oh…now here we were, stranded, with nowhere to go except downhill. But I thought this was logical since the only way off a mountain was downhill. So away we went. Downhill on the increasingly smaller cobbled street which had now turned to nothing more than a medieval sidewalk.
pretty narrow
As I am sitting here writing this entry a couple of weeks later, it is hard to describe just how small and steep this little passageway really was. There were times, even after we pulled in the side view mirrors, that we had less than one-half an inch of clearance on either side of the van. In retrospect, all six of us were very calm considering the situation.
The siesta period must have just ended because soon there were people coming out of the woodwork. Kids on scooters, women standing around gossiping, babies in buggies, and kids with toys. All of them were milling around in this little street on which I was driving. By the way, they were standing on the street because there was nowhere else to stand! I was really getting worried by now and began questioning everyone I saw with, “donde esta salida,” I think that is “where is the exit?” in Spanish. They all seemed amazed we were up there in the first place! I was amazed too! Each responded rapidly with something in Spanish and pointed downhill. I was getting good at understanding Spanish hand signals by now and continued ever so slowly downhill. With each meter, it seemed the street got narrower and narrower.
Before all the people showed up
We came to this hairpin turn. Here I had to maneuver the van back and forth about twenty times on a steep downhill grade just to get the van headed in the right direction downhill. This created an attraction in the neighborhood and it seemed everyone came out to take a look and comment on my driving skills, not to mention my stupidity for being up there in the first place. So here I was, working the clutch with one foot, the gas with the other, the emergency brake with my right hand, and trying to steer with my left. Remember this was all on a steep downhill grade, a one hundred and twenty-degree left-hand turn, and people all around.
By now everybody in the neighborhood was out in the street giving me directions and yelling out how much clearance I had here and there. I’m sure it meant something to them, but to me, I understood nothing except an occasional “no”.
It was a miracle, but we got out of that predicament with no scratches or dents to the van. After a couple of more close calls with clearances, the road began to gradually widen and soon there was plenty of room on either side. As luck would have it, we ended right back up in the underground parking lot where we had started an hour ago. We all sat for a moment in silence, each thanking the Lord for the miracle of my driving. Finally, we breathed a sigh of relief.
I parked in the garage and we all walked up the hill to the top of town. It was here we found that amazing medieval village with so much charm as described in the guidebook I was using. We found a hotel, I left the group at the bar and I walked back down the hill, got in the van and drove up the hill directly to the central plaza parking area. It was a piece of cake the second time around!
by David McGuffin | Dec 20, 2007 | Uncategorized
David’s notes: This was originally posted in July 2007.
I always thought I was good at watching and protecting my stuff when traveling…but a few weeks ago I had a lot of stuff stolen from me.
It all started when I set my backpack on the front seat of my tour bus. That normally is not a problem, but this day it was the wrong thing to do. Soon I began helping people load their luggage and was busy with the hotel checkout for the group. At some point (which no one in the group of 35 people can determine) someone walked onto my tour bus and grabbed my bag off the front seat. I did not discover it was gone until we were ready to roll out of the parking lot. Then it hit me that I’d been had…ughhh. That was a terrible feeling and it took me over a week to get over it.
The only positive thing about this experience was that I was wearing my money belt (tucked safely under my pants) and all my cash, credit cards, and passport were still safe.
Theft is a real thing, keep a watchful-eye and don’t get to feeling so cocky and think it will never happen to you.
During the last six weeks there have been two other people who have lost money and credit cards due to theft. Both events were in Rome. The first happened to a lady who, on her last night in Rome, was riding a crowded bus. She had her billfold in her “fanny-pack” in front of her, supposedly safe and sound. When she arrived at the hotel her billfold was gone!
The other theft happened when a lady left her billfold, containing credit cards and cash, on a bed in a hotel room. When she returned it was all gone.
The moral here is don’t trust anyone. Guard your stuff all the time. By all means tuck your most essential valuables under your clothes in a moneybelt. But hey, don’t worry, I still think Europe and travel are great..however I’ll always be more on the lookout for those people everywhere that cannot be trusted.
