MAYBE EUROPE BROKE ME? : EUROPE TRIP PART 1

I'm back from a month-long trip to Europe.  I've returned with memories, experiences, insights, and more photographs taken by Hub than anyone will ever want to see.  Notre Dame from every angle, the Alps up close from every view point, Florence spread out  in all directions from the top of the Duomo -- you get the idea.  He and I will occasionally look back at the photos and recall our time there.  But mostly they will live in our computer taking up bytes of memory that my human brain won't remember.

I've also came home with a cold.  Runny nose, some congestion.  General "blah-ness".  Nothing terrible, but enough to feel slightly "off".  We weren't the only ones.  About a third of our tour-mates were coughing and blowing their noses at some time over the 3 weeks we were together.   Hub and I donned ours masks hoping to avoid any catching the crud.  Always on crowded public transportation, in crowded museums, in airports and on airplanes we wore our masks.  We were in the vast, vast minority among the general population of anywhere we visited to do this.  I guess that whole mask thing is over and spreading any variety of viruses (not exclusive to Covid) is A-OK now.  Hmmm.  Who knows where we picked up the bug in the masses of humanity we encountered?  But at the end of the trip Hub succumbed to a couple of cold-symptom days.  I didn't fall to it until I was actually home.  It is frustrating and disappointing, but I guess to be expected.

I also came home with back spasms, which really annoys me.  The tour we did, Rick Steves 21 Days Best of Europe (see map -- started in Haarlem and went south and looped back north with numbers indicating nights spent in each place before ending in Paris; we added extra days at the beginning and end on our own), requires that participants carry their own luggage to and from the bus to hotel, transportation, etc.  They urge us to "pack light", and I really did try.  But 21 days across Europe from the frosty Swiss Alps to the beaches of Italy's CinqueTerra require some dramatic changes of clothing and footwear, along with other travel necessities.  

My suitcase wasn't unmanageable for me, nor was the additional daypack I wore on my back (along with my purse), but together they were heavy and over the course of a month, the weight, the awkwardness, the lifting and toting up and down many, many, many flights of stairs and over long stretches of cobblestone streets apparently took a toll.  I don't know why it didn't hit me until I got home.  It should have been a constant thing, but I pretty much persevered and prided myself on what a strong and capable traveler I was.  

But last night, our second day home, I woke up at 2:00 a.m. (Jet lagged!  Hey!  It's time to be up!) and could barely move.  This has lasted all day and even as I type right now at 10:30 p.m., I can feel the dull ache breaking through my Tylenol and Ibuprofen cocktail.  Hub gave me a great massage this afternoon and took care of all the home chores today, insisting I rest.  And, thankfully, I got some relief from the heating pad.  But still, each movement sends a dull ache or a sharp pain shooting across my lower back. I hope this spasm of protest dissipates soon.

All of this, of course, gives me pause about doing this again.  Maybe my Rick Steves tour days are over?  His trips are very physically demanding.  Maybe lugging suitcases is a thing of my past.  Maybe being packed like sardines inside the Sistine Chapel or Notre Dame or the entire city of Venice is not a great idea in the age of deadly viruses. Maybe familiar frustrations of tour travel (I have a list) are starting to outweigh the substantial logistical benefits (also have a list) of a tour.  I don't know.  Food for thought.  

It's also possible my jet lag and disorientation are playing into my malaise.  We left in mid-September when it still felt like summer, and returned in mid October when suddenly it was cold and the leaves had turned and it's dark at 6:30 p.m.  And there is the crazy reality that in spite of the incredible hassles and discomfort of air travel, it's weirdly possible, and head-spinning, to wake up in Paris and go to bed at home thousands of miles and an ocean and continent away in less than 24 hours.

 But here I am.  Grateful for so much about the trip.  Not eager to go anywhere else for awhile. 

At least that's the view from here...© 

P.S.  Stay tuned:  Happier trip details to come!