Almost Midnight in Luxembourg City

This is one story in a series of stories that tell about a backpack trip to Europe in the spring of 1976 by myself in an effort to run away from the pain of a broken heart. (To read from the beginning Google "The Ramblings of an Aging Baby Boomer" and go back to March 27th, "I'll Never Find Love Again.")

Monday, April 19, 1976 (Almost midnight in Luxembourg City)

I left Leiden yesterday for Luxembourg City. On the train I met three women from South America: Camil, Doris and Olga. They are beautiful, beautiful women and they speak perfect English. I think they come from wealthy families. They wear expensive clothes and they spend money like they have it, yet they are very down to earth and not pretentious. They all like to talk at the same time and they laugh endlessly. I loved being with them, and they made me feel like a beloved family member, accepting me right away. Before we arrived at the train station, they said they wanted me to spend my time in the city with them. (Everyone I've met so far on this trip has liked me; it's surprising. If I'm such a terrible person (selfish, self-absorbed) like Jack says I am, why do people like me?)

Camil, Doris, Olga and me

Luxembourg City

When we arrived in Luxembourg we found a hotel (Reinshein) for $15.00 for the four of us. That was such good luck for me. My part was $3.75, which meant I had a little more money; I didn't have to starve myself.

We rested in our room for a while, and then we walked around the city. Later we found a restaurant, and since I had some extra money from not paying for my accommodations in Leiden and my sharing a room here in Luxembourg, I was able to eat well. 

This morning we had breakfast. (Afterward I counted my remaining money: $5.00 and some funny-looking coins). We walked and talked and laughed our way through the city. We window shopped (it's Easter Monday and most stores are closed), and then we returned to the hotel, gathered our things, shared a taxi to the train station where we said our goodbyes. They were off to other European destinations, and I was heading to the airport and home. 

I started this trip with one relatively lightweight backpack and a purse. I now have a very heavy backpack, a bloated purse, and a large bag filled with souvenirs, gifts and miscellany. Carrying them is such a pain. Too big of a load for my one hundred pound body. My back hurts all the time. 

I took a bus from the train station to the airport and lugged my bags--thinking it was for the last time-- to the ticket counter. The lady said I had to go to another counter--lug, lug, lug--and at that counter the lady there said there were no seats available for me. I could not leave today. I was stunned. Just like back in New York when the flight was delayed, I was paralyzed. "But I have to leave today. I don't have any money left. What do I do? Where do I go?" That was what I was thinking. I said nothing. I just stared blankly at the woman. But she was done with me. On to the next person in line. 

Another airport employee told me there was a hotel a half mile away. My baggage now weighed five hundred pounds, not fifty. I just couldn't do it. But I had to. I had no choice. I started walking. Every step was a struggle. How could I even get a room with only $5.00? This was not supposed to happen. I should have been on that plane today. At some point, I couldn't go another step. I sat down in the dirt beside the road, threw my bags behind me, and buried my head in my arms. A car stopped and a man said something that I didn't understand. Did he think I was a lady of the night and he was propositioning me? Or was he asking if I needed a ride? I smiled and said "No, thank you." Either way, that would work. I got up and started walking again. A handsome young man walked by me and smiled. I picked up my pace to keep up with him; I forgot the pain and the next thing I knew I was at the hotel.

I walked into the office and explained my situation: I was supposed to leave today, but can't leave until tomorrow. All I have is $5.00. I laid it on the counter. There were no smiles exchanged. The man behind the counter wasn't happy; I wasn't happy. He pulled a key off a hook and started walking. I followed him and we walked silently down this long sidewalk, passing door after door, until he stopped at one, unlocked it, and pushed it open. Then he was gone without saying a word.

I had eaten a small breakfast this morning because I wanted to conserve the little money I had left. Now there will be no food until tomorrow afternoon on the airplane.

Earlier tonight I had severe hunger pains, so I left the room in search of food. I've had such good luck on this trip, maybe my luck will continue. So I walked back to the hotel clerk not knowing what I was going to say. "Excuse me, sir, but can you spare a couple of dollars so I can eat." I walked into the office; he didn't look up. I said nothing, left and came back to the room. What was I thinking? Was I so desperate that I would have turned to begging? I thought about what I could put in my mouth to reduce my hunger. Toothpaste came to mind, so I put a big dollop of Crest on my tongue and tried to swallow it. It was difficult but it did go down. Within seconds I was nauseous. Not only did toothpaste not help with the hunger, it made me sick to my stomach.

I laid down on the bed and waited for the consequences of my toothpaste mistake to go away. It did and eventually my hunger subsided. I thought about how lucky I had been throughout the trip: Strangers who gave me what I needed, right when I needed it; self-appointed bodyguards and tour guides who fed me, showed me the sights, and let me stay for free in their rooms; a hotel clerk who took me under his protective wing because I had been left behind; traveling companions who enriched my trip by simply sharing themselves with me; rich parent wannabes who cared about my well being; and then that lady in Leiden (whose name I didn't get) who took me in and just possibly saved my life. Here I was on my last day in Europe without any money but with a lot of memories and stories to share someday.

It's almost midnight and I'm still awake. My watch says 11:55. My flight is not until tomorrow afternoon so I don't think I need to worry about my watch failing me again. Just a few more hours and I'll be heading home. I'm ready.