Travelers Tales..Newsletter 8

Issue #8

The Traveling Tales Issue

Before we get close to departure and must busy ourselves with the nasty little details of airports, transport, passport, and portage, I thought I’d share with you a few adventures of past travels. Many of these don’t involve travel in Great Britain, but they all point to the fact that traveling overseas is not so much a vacation as adventure.

Kenny and the Soviets

--KB

His name was Kenny, he was a sophomore at Triopia, and this was his first trip abroad. Our trip was to the Soviet Union in the days when glasnost and perestroika were just coming into being. The Soviet Union (newly named, now it’s Russia again) was just coming out of the cold war period. It was prime time to see this part of the world.

We’d taken an overnight train from Moscow to Leningrad. We’d been advised by our guide to not fall asleep, “or the train employees will rob you blind.” So..we bought a picnic of Coke, wine, sandwiches, and smoked oysters, and proceeded to spend our traveling hours awake and chatting.

Our train arrived safely in Leningrad. Believe me, the city is a breath of fresh air after the drab mood of Moscow. We were touring one of the city’s many parks when Kenny came up to me, tears in his eyes, and said, “Mr. Bradbury, I think I left my passport on the train.”

Not good. In any foreign country this is a problem. Your passport is the single

most important document you own when traveling and it often means spending the better part of a day at the local consulate to get a new one made. …that is if you’ve remembered to bring an additional photo of yourself along with a copy of your birth certificate. But…this was the Soviet Union.

I ran over to our British guide, Champaign Dave (what the Soviets called him) and his face turned ashen. He said there was a possibility that I would have to stay with Kenny in Leningrad, perhaps for several weeks, while our group flew back. And even then it might involve flying a lawyer to Moscow. This wasn’t pretty.

Kenny said he’d left the passport in his train compartment. Remembering that this was the train where we’d been warned about the thievery of the crew, our hopes didn’t look good. I insisted that Dave and I at least attempt to find the train.

Dave informed me that we’d have to bribe our way through the guards. With what? He said that the items most coveted by the Soviets were pantyhose, windshield wiper blades, prophylactics, and American cigarettes. I only had a ready supply of one of those items. Gathering every cigarette I could find, I tucked them inside my coat and off we headed toward the station. Dave carefully negotiated with each guard, passing out only as many cigarettes as were necessary to get past that particular checkpoint.

Let me stop and say that I’ve learned more about prayer in desperate situations than I have in church. Dave was talking, I was praying. Bottom line: we found the Arenzville boy’s passport still laying on his train seat. Praise God!

The Ladies of Investment Meet the Ladies of the Night

---KB

Perhaps you read about them in USA Today or saw them on Good Morning America or the Today show. They’re called “The Beardstown Ladies” and they became nationally famous with their investment club and their ensuing book on the club’s success. Five of their group signed up for our tour of Australia.

They were each in their late 70’s or early 80’s and were a very pleasant group. Although our tour was a tough one… San Francisco, Tahiti, New Zealand, Australia, and Hawaii, they paced themselves well and were always “sorry to be a bother.” The young men with our group delighted in carrying their bags and I think that several adoptions were proposed by the time the trip was over.

I knew we were in trouble when we landed in Sydney and our coach driver said, “Where’s your hotel, Mate?” I told him that it was in the King’s Cross area of Sydney. His eyes shot open. “Where!!?” Uh-oh.

I knew that the hotel was cheap, but I wasn’t familiar with the Sydney real estate. King’s Cross is the drug and prostitution district of Sydney, Australia.

As our coach inched its way through the late-night but still-bustling district of sleaze, the faces of my Triopia kids were plastered against the windows. This was a far cry from Chapin.

As soon as I settled the group into their rooms, I called a meeting of the group. “Okay, we’re stuck with this. In Tahiti and New Zealand I let you go wherever you wanted at night, but nobody…and I mean NOBODY leaves this hotel without me as a chaperone.”

The teens in the group were so frightened that they opted to stay in the hotel for the night. The mid-aged adults were tired and went to bed. Then…at about midnight.. a tap-tap-tap on my door. It was the Beardstown ladies. .. little hats perched atop their heads, purses in hand. “Would you go out with us?”

I asked them to give me time enough to put on my pants and we’d go cruising.

It was a weird adventure. This was not like the porn districts of many American cities where you’d see lewd posters advertising what’s to be found inside the doors. In Sydney the gals were right out on the street and there was little you couldn’t see for free.

Then it started to happen. About every ten steps one of the Beardstown ladies would stop and begin chatting with one of the hookers. “My, that’s quite an outfit!” and “And what do you do for a living?”

I was caught between giggling and fright. They were serious! They wanted to know all about these lurid ladies and their livelihood.

After about 30 minutes of this, jeg-lag knocked on my door and I told the older ladies, “Gals, I think you’re gonna be safe. If you don’t mind, I’m going back to the hotel.” They agreed that my presence wasn’t needed and I went back to bed.

Sometime around 2 in the morning I arose, thirsty, found that I had no running water in my room, and went down to the bar to get a sip. As I entered I found the Beardstown ladies who had brought one of the prostitutes back with them for tea. They were showing her pictures of their grandchildren in Arenzville and Beardstown and Rushville, all giggling with delight.

They took the hooker’s address and they became pen pals, sending the Aussie gal their Upper Room devotionals.

The Foot Washer

--KB

I wouldn’t want to embarrass this young man since he’s now a prominent Jacksonville lawyer. (Oh heck, I will anyway..his name is Richard Crews.) He was my roommate on a trip through France and Switzerland.

Rick had never seen a French bidet. Well, I’d never seen one either, but I knew that it was the Napoleonic answer to personal hygiene and it all sounded rather…well…disgusting. They’re usually located right beside the commode in French hotels.

But…Rick still hadn’t been to law school. I nearly choked on my baguette one morning at breakfast when Rick bounded into the cafeteria and announced that he’d just used the “sock washer” in our room.

De Plane, She is Goin’ Down!

--KB

The plan: take a short flight from Milan, Italy, to Rome. Easy. Maybe an hour’s jaunt?

I had a group of 18 with me on that trip…nearly all teenagers. We’d just been in the air a few minutes when the announcement came over the plane’s PA system. Okay…first let me tell you how American Airlines or United would have announced it. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. We’re experiencing a few minor difficulties and we’ll be reducing our altitude for the rest of the flight. Have a nice day.” But this was not an American airline. It was Air Italia…the cowboys of Europe. Air Italia was known for buying up old TWA junkers, repainting them and putting them into the air. Their pilots are much akin to those who used to work for Ozark Airlines here in the Midwest. Flying by the seat of their pants was the name of the game.

So..our announcement was exactly this. “Hey! The left cockpit window, she just blew out! We’re goin’ down!” That’s right. He didn’t say, “reduce altitude,” he said “Goin’ down!” with no mention of how far down “down” was.

In fact, the left cockpit window had just blown out of the plane. Regardless of what you’ve seen in movies, people don’t necessary go flying out the gaping hole. They simply had to reduce speed and altitude to make it to Rome.

What followed was like one of those “terror” moments in the Airplane movies. Panic. We had everything but the nun. Pandemonium reigned. Then came the second announcement. “Hey! Could about 18 of you move forward in da aircraft?”

Did he say 18? And doesn’t “forward” mean First Class? Heck yes! I urged my group to their feet and we went running toward the empty First Class section. 18 seats exactly.

While those poor folks back in cabin class we reenacting the final scenes of The Titanic, we were comfortably ensconced in wide leather seats. To calm the passengers, the three pilots came back to chat and calm us. (Three pilots? Who’s flying the plane?) These guys were just gorgeous… black leather suits, black swept-back hair, all looking like Ricardo Montalban in his younger days. They charmed my little mostly-female group in an Italian secondo. Then they offered free Champaign to everyone. My mostly underage students turned to me hopefully. I said, “Sure. Go ahead. If we’re goin’ down, let’s do it in style.”

And we did.

More Stories from the rest of the gang:

Mary Emma’s Touch Down

--Mary Emma Seymour

Guess I'll have to sit by you on the plane. None of mine have been newsworthy, as I recall. The first trip to Europe, the summer between my Jr. and Sr. year at Valparaiso University, 1960....the landing gear failed to go down as we approached LaGuardia...the pilot tried it 3 times...straight down and a perfect V straight up...the 4th time, he lowered the wheels manually and it worked...I did fill the little paper sack in the pocket in front of me...guess it was nerves the roller coaster ride... (The good news..our flight will not be traveling via LaGuardia.)

Keith & Nancy: 1, TWA: 0

--Keith Bradbury

Funny how we seem to remember bad experiences more vividly than good
one's. I have very few bad memories of any traveling. When you travel, you
learn. In 1987 Nancy and I were fortunate enough, (thanks, Dad) to travel to
Europe with Ken. I learned why TWA is no longer in business. Once we
arrived in London the trip was perfect from there until the end. However
the trip over...... We left St. Louis.. No problem. When we got to
Pittsburg to pick up more passengers, TWA told Nancy and I we must get off
the plane because our boarding pass was only good to Pittsburg and the plane
was full. It was about 3 seconds before I exploded. (Back then you could do
that and not get arrested) Ken's came off the plane and told them either
Nancy and I were getting back on the plane or there were 30 people getting
off. After a few minutes and 2 or 3 supervisors who did not have a clue
what day it was, there were 12 seats available. Miracle? I think rather,
incompetent.

Back on the plane, they were not able to seat us together. I did not
like it, but I agreed to sit in the back with Jack Daniels. Nancy was seated
near the front. Smoking was allowed at the back of the plane and a large
lady, who was seated up front so the smoke would not bother her, came back
to stand by me and the bathroom to have a smoke about every 15 minutes. I
ask the servant, (do you detect my frame of mind?) if they would ask her to
keep her ash in her seat. They said there was nothing they could do about
it. (She did not speak English, so they didn't know how to tell her) I was
now required to take the matter into my own hands. It seemed each time I
repositioned my body, which was very often, (small, unpadded TWA seats) I
accidentally nudged, kicked or stepped on her. (Don’t think me mean. She was
of significant proportion and could easily take me down) After a few
annoying glances, she moved up several rows for her smoke. At least she was
far enough away that Jack and I could take a nap.

And Bill Loves Those Airlines, Too!

---Bill Curry

I am sure you remember our flight to Moscow via Aeroflot. I am not sure that is a story to share with the group.
(KB: It was a bit wild. I think the Russian pilots used to fly for Ozark airlines.)
My first trip to Europe, the plane bounced all the way to Vienna. We were trying to fly over thunderstorms. Again, I don’t think you should share with the group.
(KB; Oh heck yes, I’ll share it. I like roller coasters)
Do you dare share with the group coming home from Paris in 1995 and reaching Cleveland with no connecting flight until the next day? (KB: So we had to find lodgings for 20-some people with a plastics convention in town and every motel taken. I found one about 20 miles outside of town. By the time I got everyone in cabs, there were none left for me. A very large African-American man came up to me and said, “Need a ride man? I got a cab.” His cab was a beat-up delivery van, but I had no choice. I’d sent my group to the hotel. After 30 minutes of driving we pulled into a deserted parking lot. Trying to make nervously friendly conversation I said, “Uh..what are we doing?”

“I need fuel, man.”

“Uh..this isn’t a gas station.”

“It’s LP, man. I’ll find a hose somewhere.”

So while he left the van I sat in the darkened Cincinnati junk yard..midnight or so. He left his radio on. ..a Christian station.. good news unless it was an accident. Finally the guy got into the van and we took off. Trying anything to make his friendship, I said, “Uh..I like your choice of music.” He said, “Recognize the voice?” The DJ’s voice was familiar. “It’s..it’s you!” Yep..he was a Baptist minister who did indeed drive an LP-powered van as a moonlighter. Thank God! I’d forgotten that night, Bill!

The paper thin walls at the Lodge in New Zealand, with Don Obert snoring in the next room. (KB: And now Don is dead. See where snoring will get you?)

Please tell the group that God travels with us. I added up the total days of traveling with you and it comes to 80 days. On two of the days it rained. The other days we had beautiful weather. That is 98% good weather. (KB: Bill, you’re the only person I know who would remember numbers like this. Good for you!)
Most of the time, our flights have been on time! I am sure we will have continued success.
With the exception of you losing your suitcase for one day, everyone has had their suitcase awaiting on the carousel. (KB: The last time my suitcase didn’t arrive home at the St. Louis airport, they called the van service to deliver it to Arenzville. The guy on the other end of the phone said, “Bradbury? I already know his address.” I’ve become quite good friends with the suitcase delivery people over the years. Hey! They deliver it right to your door! Who needs good service?)

Oh, the People You’ll Meet

---Kay Welsh

Just one more--On one of my trips to Dallas Mary Kay Seminars--I sat with an older lady from New Orleans. We began talking, as if we'd known each other all our lives& we kept in touch for about 8 yrs;You just never know who God will put in your path! She was such a blessing to meet!
I met some people in line as I was coming back from my recent trip to the Bahamas--who had a close friend that lives in Exeter!! As they ask where I lived,[they lived in IN] my standard answer is always,about 1 hr west of Springfield --they ask again--What is the name of the town--I said Oh its a small town just past Jacksonville. It was at that point
they mentioned their friend's residence location...and to add to that, I know their
friend--He works at Passavant! It's a small world after all! :)
(KB: Reminds me of a time I was sitting talking to our coach driver in Amsterdam, waiting for the last of my group to exit the Anne Frank home. I asked if he’d ever been to the States. He replied, “Oh yeah, me girlfriend lives there. I visit her during the off season.”

“Really? Where in the States?”

“A town in Illinois. Pro’bly never heard of it. Quincy, Illinois?”

“Uh…yeah. I was born there.”)

The Soft Voice and Sweet Smile

---Maxine Crawford

One that stands out is me being barred from a Resort in MO.
For several years while our children were growing up we owned a run-about small boat, and often spent a week each summer on The Lake of the Ozarks at a Resort which was back off the main channel where our children, and friend's children learned to water-ski. The location was excellent for this kind of thing. We learned about this perfect spot from other Arenzville friends The Joe Stinson's and The Richard Bartholomew's.
Two other families always went with us. There was one other boat in our group. Enough room we could load our whole crew up, and go to a Restaurant on the Lake for a meal. A favorite outing the whole group enjoyed once in a while. Otherwise we cooked most or our meals at the Resort.
As we left each year we made reservations for the next summer, and hoped and prayed all the farming chores worked out so we could be gone at the chosen time. We had been going to this same spot for 8-10 years when.......................................
We were all packed, with boats out of the water, on the trailers, and ready for the 4-5 hour drive home. We often traveled together, in case anyone had a problem we would be there to help one another. John was in the office paying our bill, and it seemed to be taking him a very long time. That, in itself, was not that unusual, for those who knew John, know he never met a stranger, or was ever at a loss for words. However, he knew we were parked in the way of other guests who were arriving, and we were holding up the
other two vehicles who would be traveling with us. I decided to go to the office to speed things along. Upon my arrival in the office I learned there was a dispute over the bill. On this particular year we had other guests, for two days, staying with us in our unit. The guests were long gone, and had paid the extra which was charged if you had extras sleeping in your unit.
Now as we are checking out, the owner's of the Resort are charging John the extra again for the, two nights we had, guests in our unit. When I heard the story I said to John, "Well they are screwing you John". The Mrs. of the couple who owned the Resort said, "Mrs. Crawford your soft voice, and sweet smile does not impress me one bit, get out and you will not be welcome here again as long as we own the Resort."
Of course we thought, or hoped they would sell the Resort, or forget about the incident by the next spring. In March of the next year a phone call to the Resort revealed
neither had happened. Everyone else in our group could come that summer, but Mrs.Crawford could not.
My friends were very loyal, we shopped for another place, and stayed elsewhere that
summer, but it was not as convenient, and did not offer the long quiet cove which we
desired for water skiing, and lake swimming.
By the next Summer the Resort had been sold, and we were able to return to our old
stomping grounds for several years after that. No one who ever heard that story would allow me to forget that tale. I have heard, "Mrs. Crawford your soft voice, and sweet smile does not impress me," many times over.
Best not sit by me on the plane, I do not always bring out the best in people.
Judy, and I are looking forward to our journey to the United Kingdom. The excitement is beginning to build.
(KB: Maxine will be in charge of our hotel reservations.)

It Pays to Be Resilient!

--Kay Welsh
Some of my fondest memories are:

The first time Dawn & I went--Our 'unexpected' evening in Austria--With the building to ourselves; the stout, quiet lady who served our food, the fun, laughter & impromptu entertainment that began--with Richard, then you, Keith & on went the evening! I remember walking through that little town (and people staring at us), seeing the storks with their nests on top of the chimneys. Just soaking in the beauty of Southern France; the day we stopped for lunch--Bonnie, Dixie, Dawn, Amy & I decided to pool our 'current change' (since we were going to be changing currency again),walked through the grocery store, while everyone else went in the restaurant next door. We had more fun deciding how much we had to spent, what we were going to share & then sat outside on a concrete slab & ate lunch!! (From KB: The restaurant in Munich was a converted factory..actually, not converted very much..but they had beer and a piano so we became the entertainment for the night.)

Our enjoyable evening in Munich, Germany (after a Horrible day of losing Dawn during the "free time!!") down in the cellar--Hank doing the polka with Bonnie & having a fun time watching everyone.

In 1995 when Kim & I went:

Exploring Paris, learning the way on the tube(is that what they call their underground transportation?) (KB: It’s the “Metro” in Paris, but who’s counting?) going to the style show with Barb & Pete; My favorite spot in the world--Switzerland--and our day at the top of Mt. Titalis--Oh, my gosh--one step from Heaven! to look down over the clouds as we stood on that mountain top! Leaves you Breathless. and yes--we revisited the Cellar in Munich--Barb & I didn't have any trouble finding it! (KB: And if I remember correctly it took two days to get you two up out of the cellar.)

Do you remember our trip home--and our overnight experience in Cleveland! A little test of endurance& patience Actually, our cab driver wasn't sure how to get to where we were to stay; then he stopped to get gas & all the while he was standing outside pumping the gas, he was smoking a cigarette--we were sure we were going to be killed, in a car explosion or fire! By that time of night, all we could do was laugh. That trip was also the group from Kentucky that was so rude! I so bad wanted to leave those lazy men somewhere. (KB: Frankly, I’d forgotten about that night in Cleveland until you and Bill reminded me.)

In all the years I have flown different places, sometimes by myself--I have never had any problems with weather delays, lost luggage or unpleasant circumstances. I flew to Italy 6 mo after 911 events--to visit Dawn & again, Kim & I had no problems getting through anywhere.

Hope your Holidays have been enjoyable! Blessings for the New Year!

KAY

P.S. I spent a few days in the Bahamas with Kim, Nick & his family(and of course my grandson, Austin!)--sunny, warm, relaxing--but didn't seem like "Christmas".

A Whole Raft of Giggles

---Mary Jo Seiz

In the summer of "99, my best friend Cheryl Meyer, her son Wes, my son David, and I went on a rafting trip down the Grand Canyon. On a raft with 15 people for a week, you become very close "in many ways" with people you have never met before. A high-powered CEO, who was accustomed to giving orders, was on our raft. At one point, he declared, "We will have 5 minutes of silence now." The four of us reverted to our grade school days (not as teachers but as young students) and started giggling. We pretty much had the whole raft laughing by the time the 5 minutes had elapsed. The next day, the same scenario happened, but the giggling was much worse. He said that he couldn't believe that we couldn't be quiet for 5 minutes. There had been long periods of time when there was silence, but there's something about someone declaring it. So watch out, Ken! Do not declare,"5 minutes of silence." Things may get out of hand. (Several years after this trip, Cheryl found out she had cancer. She sadly passed away, but she always grabbed life when she could. Her life taught me not to put off things I would like to experience. Ireland has been calling....looking forward to making more trip memories.) (KB: I don’t remember the cathedral. Heck, I don’t even remember which country we were in. All I can remember is that the priest-guide to this cathedral had just whispered to those of us in front of the group, “Now, we must have absolute silence in here.” He didn’t know that we had Kay Welsh in our group and I don’t know what prompted her, but throughout the centuries-old cathedral we heard the explosion of Kay’s famous laughter. We’ll seat you two together.)

Jen and Doug vs. the Russian Navy

---Doug and Jen Bradbury

The setting: June 2001 after our junior year at U of I, Jen and I studied abroad in Moscow, Russia for a summer. We had gotten engaged 3 days before leaving town (we thought we'd give everyone the summer to get used to the idea), had 3 credit hours of Russian language and culture training, and off we went. This particular adventure was on our first trip from Moscow to St. Petersburg.

The one thing we had heard from everyone was that if you were going to St. Petersburg, you had to see Peterhof. A Russian will tell you that Peterhof is something like Versailles (France, not Brown County) only better. A Frenchman would say Peterwhat? At any rate it is a big palace surrounded by dozens of fountains and gardens and canals.

You can take a cab, a bus, or a train to Peterhof, but the fastest (and most adventurous) way is by boat. We spent much of our first day searching the bank of the Neva River looking for the boat dock to Peterhof. We saw a lot of the city, but by the time we found the boat, it was too late to take it that day. We resolved to come back in the morning and continued seeing the sights in St. Petersburg.

In the morning, as we boarded the boat we thought was heading to Peterhof, we kept noticing signs everywhere with this funny Russian word, Krandstadt, on them. With our limited Russian vocabulary, we assumed Kranstadt meant dock or boat and so we boarded the hydrofoil boat and were off.

Upon docking, we noticed this same word, Krandstadt, again and only then began to realize that this word didn't mean dock or boat and that we certainly were not at the palace we had expected to be at. Instead, we had landed on Kranstadt, the Russian island naval station, also built by Peter the Great, but for a much different purpose.

All was not lost though as we spent several hours looking at the impressive warships, the canals, and the docks. We tried to get a bite to eat at a cafe, but were informed that the establishment was for sailors only. We caught the return boat and then had to catch our train back to Moscow.

We found out later that Putin had been in Peterhof that day and that we couldn't have gotten in even if we had made it there. But what other tourists in St. Petersburg get to see the Russian Navy in action? We did make it back to St. Petersburg later in the summer and got on the right boat to Peterhof. From Peterhof, you can look across the Gulf of Finland and see Krandstadt. That's why Peter picked the spot in the first place - to oversee the construction of the naval base. (KB: I remember Doug from his kindergarten days. He’s had these problems for many, many years.)

P.S. Thanks to all you who submitted your hairy travel tails. If any of you wish to submit more, I’ll include them in forthcoming news letters.

Happy New Year!

kb