Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Martha's Travel Diaries

During January of 1992 I went on an 8th grade class trip to England.
During Summer of 1996, my best friend and I backpacked mainland Europe.

If you ask me now about these trips, I will wax poetic about the cultural significance of the sites, the artistic beauty of the museums I visited, the historical awe I felt from being at the birthplace of William Shakespeare or Rome's government.

But in reality, at the time, with the brain of a teenager, my thoughts went like this:

January 19 1992

I was not in the mood to get on a boat {to England} when I knew I was going to get extremely seasick. On the ride to the youth hostel I spent most of the sleeping (on {my boyfriend}). The food at the hostel is halfway decent. I love the fact that our bedrooms are better than the guys. It's a nice feeling.

January 22 1992

We went to an Aerospace Museum where we were given booklets with twelve airplanes and various data which we were supposed to fill out by running around a place the size of a football field to find the particular plane and examine it. After lunch we went to the Black Country World coal minds. Then we came back for dinner. Then, forced into bathing suits in which we were not given time to diet into, we went to the pool.

January 23 1992

We went to see a performance of Romeo and Juliet. At one point when Juliet was dancing in a semi see-through nightgown, all the boys, including {the male teacher} leaned forward and used binoculars.

July 2 1996

I am on the train headed for Madrid. The last few days were hectic {in France}. We walked over five hours and I thought I was going to die because my feet hurt so much. We got to bed early and started again at ten the next morning. Although I would love to say I grooved with the eight or so hours of walking we did, but I'm in some serious pain.

We did see some really cool sites. The PereLachaise and the graves of Oscar Wilde and Victor Hugo. We set off in search of the Pantheon . My legs were killing me and I could barely waddle down the street. We proceeded to walk (I limped) down the Champs Elysees and finally stopped at Haagen Daaz.

July 6 1996

{My friend} and I arrived in Madrid to find that none of our money worked. The hostel wouldn't accept it because it was so old.

July 8 1996

We're in a campsite in Bordeaux. Last night {my friend} and I had the hardest time falling asleep because I told a horror story and we both got really freaked. We sat huddled in the tent willing {her boyfriend and his brother} to come from their tent and sleep on our sides so that if a murderer with a machete came, they'd die first.

July 9 1996

We spent most of yesterday in the sun and I have an insignificant tan. My butt really hurts from all the biking and I'm thinking about not doing that again ever.


Anonymous said...

Oh thank god, I'm not alone. I've always had conniption over the fact that my travel diaries are the most boring things ever. Let's just say that our young minds were too busy experiencing and absorbing to waste any time composing.

Martha Flynn said...

YES! That's what I'm doing...a lot of absorbing....

Rachael Herron said...

HAHAHAHA. Oh, the WALKING of Europe. My feet have never hurt as much.

Mysti said...

I had actually forgotten what it was like to be a teenager until I read this. And you were clearly born to be a writer, this is my new favorite sentence:

"Then, forced into bathing suits in which we were not given time to diet into, we went to the pool."

Thanks for the best holiday send-off a gal could have!!!!!

Lisa Hughey said...

LOVE THIS--as always. Thanks for the teen travel guide. Happy Thanksgiving!

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