Impressions

by Logynn Northrhip (United States of America)

A leap into the unknown Italy

I was 16 and traveling alone on a flight to Frankfurt, Germany. So strange to go from never flying on a plane to flying to another country on one. I was still in shock that she let me leave. How did that even happen? When my drama teacher first told us about this three week trip to through Europe, I was immediately smitten. So many challenges had been overcome. It was 1985 and one of the first terrorist attacks occurred in Greece which took that country off the tour map. Then my damn teacher backed out of the trip and I was the only one from my entire school who still wanted to go. I’m not even sure how my parents paid for this trip. We weren’t rich. In fact, they sent me to Europe with all of $500 in my pocket. When I returned 22 days later, I had a single quarter in my pocket.  As I wondered around the airport in Germany looking in vain for a large group of students from California, I was near tears. I had, up until that point, managed to keep my typical sunny optimism in charge in an attempt to suppress the shaky fear that was hiding behind my smile. It was right about then that I heard my name being announced over the loudspeaker. I was the lone Texan and I knew no one, but I didn’t care about that. I had somehow convinced my over-protective Mom to let me travel across the world, and I was not about to waste the opportunity to come out of my shell. Up until that point, I had lived a very sheltered life. I was sweet 16 and had been kissed, and I had yet to discover any sort of drugs or alcohol, and I still had my braces. I was an innocent. I was about to visit places that I hadn’t even heard of yet, and I was like the fresh copper plate of a daguerreotype, ready to create a highly detailed image of everything around me. The countries are a whirlwind in my mind, a flash of images; a taste or smell. Even now, when I taste the almond sweetness of marzipan, I am transported to that candy shop in Munich where we first met. There were bizarre squatting toilets with hard, maroon toilet paper, a bus driver with a mischievous affection for breaking the rules, and early morning runs through the dawn-infused streets of Salzburg, Vienna, Venice and London. Those were my favorites. Those are the images that I share with the sleepy locals. The heavy quiet of morning interrupted only by the sound of a broom sweeping dirt and trash into the street, or the sound of water rushing along the street edges taking the trash with it. I remember the gorgeous gondola driver rowing us through the romantic canals of Venice, the creamy goodness of gelato and the way the entire town would close its doors and rest from 1 to 4 every afternoon. There were outdoor cafes, castles, gardens, a giant ferris wheel with no seats and cozy feather beds and pillows. I had my likeness captured by a street artist in Monmarte, and a sunset view from the Eiffel Tower. I saw the Sistine Chapel and was in the crowd during the Pope’s speech at the Vatican, I had the best fish and chips at a pub in London because they make them the best. There were swans and swatch watches and a surprise visit with a frozen Peter Pan. My favorite garden was an eclectic non-garden of magical strangeness that felt like home. Today, I am unafraid to move to a new city or state without a job or a fat savings account. I make friends easily even though I am a closet introvert and I’m not concerned at all about 401K balances, home mortgages or retirement. I live my life like that curious teenager about to be reborn. That trip left a mark on me, and even though I have not had the chance to go back yet, the impression it left is something I wear every day.