Jeans and a Sweater

Maybe I need to modify my European wardrobe.  For years I’ve preached that guys wear solid shoes, khaki pants, and collared shirts.  They are easy to care for, blend in, don’t yell “American”, and are comfortable.  Now maybe I’m not so sure.  Fashion in Europe is a big deal and I’m beginning to notice changes.

This article is for the guys, but you ladies can take note too!  I bet if you look around in Paris or Rome you’ll see the same trends in your fashion as well.  I’m not Clinton and Stacy from “What Not to Wear”, but I do have a little fashion sense!

Siena – A couple of weeks ago….
Although it was dreadfully warm earlier, the afternoon rain ushered in a cool front across the hills of Tuscany.  Earlier, I had dined with my tour group and walked back to the hotel afterwards.  I went to my room, but found that I was restless and not really ready for bed.  I decided not to waste a night sleeping when I could be on Il Campo, the main town square.  Because it was chilly I changed into a pair of jeans, threw on a sweater, and headed out.

As I exited the hotel doorway and walked toward Il Campo, a car with a guy and a girl drove by.  Soon they realized they were in a pedestrian area and made a U-turn back towards me.  As they were driving by, the girl leaned out and asked, “How do you get to Il Campo?”  She spoke only in Italian and I was amazed that I understood it all.  Without thinking, I told them they could not drive to Il Campo, they must park here, outside the walls, and walk.  I said all this in Floridian-Italian and got the funniest look from the girl.  It was like she realized she was hearing the right answer, but it was from the wrong person.  After a couple of seconds we both laughed.  I said in English, “I’m a tourist” and she responded in English as well, “You don’t look like it.”  Then, off we went in opposite directions.

A few weeks before, I was in Florida leading a tour preparation and orientation meeting.  When the subject of packing and clothing came up, I gave my ususal spiel about how Europeans generally “dress up” more then we Americans.  You don’t see them in shorts or flipflops unless they are at the beach.  You’d never catch them in a “warm-up” suit unless they were in a sporting event, and most often they don’t wear jeans.  I was challenged on that last statement by someone who had been to Europe the previous year who said, “They wear jeans all the time!”  That got me to thinking…

So, now I’m making it a point to notice the fashion this season and see what changes I should make to my packing list.  I’ll keep you updated and give you a new list if needed.
-David

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2-All my bags are packed and I’m ready to go…

In the last post I talked about planning a tour.  This was spurred by a comment at my church last Sunday when someone asked (after I was in Europe for three weeks), “How was your vacation?”  I laughed and it got me thinking that most people don’t have a clue what I do when I’m in Europe.  Let me tell you it ain’t a vacation all the time, but it ain’t a bad gig either!

So my tour is planned, I’ve got people signed-up and paid to go, and they are all flying off from different destinations in the US to meet me in, let’s say Paris.  My job here is to get to Paris before them, beat the jet-lag, and collect them all in one location at the airport so we can get to our hotel.  Sounds easy, but have you ever had a flight delay or cancellation?  Imagine a group of 25 people all trying to get to the same place in Europe from multiple destinations in the USA.  Something is bound to go wrong. 

Let’s say it’s now about 1:00 p.m. and everyone has arrived, and I’ve even secured a shuttle bus to take the group from the airport to our hotel in central Paris.  So we all try to get to the bus, and then there is this guy who just now remembers he needs to get money from the ATM.  I smile, point out the ATM, and then wait with the whole group while he goes to the machine.  Here we are, 25 people with luggage in tow, blocking the elevator, and waiting on this guy to get cash from the ATM.  Finally, I go over to him and try to help him out without looking at his secret PIN#.  The screen is all in French because he did not choose the “English” option at the beginning and now we both are caught up in some unending jargon about fees, service charges, and exchange rates…all in French!  I tell him it’s ok, just push the “Yes” button and his euro currency will be delivered from the little slot below, just like at home.  But no, that won’t work!  He cancels the transaction, swears a bit, and then we rejoin the group…without cash.

Terminal 1 at Charles de Gaulles airport is an icon.  It was featured in a James Bond film when the villain chased Bond through a maze of “space-aged” lexan tunnels.  Now, after about 40 years of decay, they finally started to spruce up the joint.  Unfortunately it’s still under construction and many of the exits are closed.  So, we look for an elevator to take us down three levels to the bus. 

Imagine 25 people with luggage trying to crowd into an elevator just a little larger than a coffin.  Soooo…forty-five minutes later we arrive at the bus just three short floors below.  Sixty percent of the people heeded my lessons about packing light.  The other forty percent arrive red-faced and sweating with their one VERY large bag and one very large carry-on.  The bus driver and I groan as we load ’em in the cargo hold.

Everyone is on the bus, the luggage is loaded, and we all can take a deep sigh….

(to be continued)
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1-Touring Europe is not as easy as you’d think…

I returned home yesterday from a three week stay in Europe where I visited Italy, France, and Switzerland.  While at church this morning several people asked me, “How was your vacation?”  I laughed and replied, “We had a great time!” While at the same time I was really thinking, “They don’t have a clue what I do when I’m gone.”  

Yes, I understand traveling to Europe is something that only a few of us take advantage of in our lifetime.  For many it never crosses their mind, or maybe only pops up when they see the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, or the Colesseum in a movie.  But for those of you who have traveled with me or have gone to Europe on your own know the magnetic draw to return again, and again.  I love traveling to Europe, but there is a lot of difference in going on a tour and leading a tour.  So in this post I thought I’d tell you a little about the work that goes into organizing a tour before anyone ever gets on the plane. 

Well, let’s see it all begins at least a year in advance when I begin dreaming up tour itineraries and destinations.  In some cases this is easy, especially with “proven” itineraries such as Paris to Rome or Venice, Florence, and Rome.   However, every year I do try to come up with some new city pairing or itinerary.  Once an itinerary is established the chore of nailing down hotels begins.  Now-a-days it is not so bad because I’ve got an established reputation with many hoteliers and if they’ve got room they’ll give it to me.  As you can imagine this takes some weeks to get responses from eight or nine hotels to all mesh with my planned itinerary.  With a little tweaking the tour itinerary is set.

Now that I’ve got a tour planned I’ve got to get people to sign up and go on it!  So then begins the tasks of tour promotions at trade shows, on the Internet, and by word of mouth.  If all goes well I’ll have enough folks signed up for the tour by the time mid-February rolls around.  By this time the vendors and hoteliers in Europe are asking for a deposit so I’ve got to decide how to pay.  You know the euro-to-dollar rate stinks right now.  For one or two travelers it’s not a real big deal if the exchange rate goes up by two percent, but when working with a group of twenty-five people that’s a big difference.  So I’ve got to be a bit of a gambler when pricing the tour twelve months in advance.  Luckily I projected correctly five out of the seven years I’ve been in business!

It’s now mid-March and let’s say I’ve got the tour planned and even have it filled with people who want to travel to Europe with me.  So now all I’ve got to do is collect the final payments, get on an airplane and meet them in Europe.  Well that’s a story for the next post!

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Too much room for the road

David’s note: This Journal entry was originally written in June 2007 details my adventure “driving” in Spain. 

our gang

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.

 

ArcosSo 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

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

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! 

 

It could never happen to me

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.