“Where are your scissors?” a severe airport security employee demanded. Surrounded by several other stern-looking French guards, the woman ducked her head as she continued to root through my little blue backpack, taking apart each individual item. Hand sanitizer, extra sweatshirt, books, wallet—it was all accounted for. She paused when she found my school pencil bag, which I had ignorantly thrown into my carry-on, not bothering to check the contents.
The scissors in question were only capable of injuring someone if three hundred pounds of force were applied to them. The guard, whom I was slowly beginning to dislike, held them with the very tips of her fingers as if they were volatile. Time slowed down tremendously as the other employees surveyed my little purple school scissors with care. Stunned, I could only whisper, “I didn’t put those in there intentionally. I’m sorry.”
I peered longingly at the fourteen other people from my group, who waited patiently behind the security gate. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if the airport guards were about to incarcerate me. By the time the fickle French woman decided to let me keep my scissors, I would have preferred she confiscated them after going through all that trouble.
No stranger to public humiliation, my thoughts buzzed somewhere along the lines of, “Well, this could only happen to me.” The ‘scissors incident’ only exacerbated my feelings of displacement and confusion. It probably did not help that I had not slept on the ten hour flight because of the excitement, or eaten a proper meal since leaving the airport. Figuring that I would have problems at nearly every security checkpoint (and there were quite a few of those), I threw out my scissors at our first hotel.
I remember this incident best out of my entire twelve-day tour of Europe I took this summer. Unpromising though it was to leave friendly San Francisco and arrive in what seemed like an entirely different way of life, I assumed I was going somewhere ultimately happier, friendlier, and more sophisticated than in the United States. This is what I had been dreaming about since February of 2009 when I signed up to take the tour with Mr. Searway and seven other Pitman students.
Whatever preconceived notions I had about Europe were probably shattered on the first day. I do not mean to say that my experience was negative because I did have a spectacular time and I learned a great deal, just in different ways than I had expected. Our main endeavor was, of course, to learn as much about the history as possible. However, that constitutes a certain amount of living in the present day country, trying to understand the languages, customs, and cultures.
To get to the places we needed to go, our group which included groups from Montana, North Carolina, and New Orleans, had to learn to use the public transportation systems mainly in London and Paris. We had to hop on buses, subways, trains, planes, and try our best to stick together all the time. Organizing everyone with certain groups became a pain, and the transportation improved when we arrived in Italy, where we had a private bus transporting us everywhere.
Surviving in present-day Europe without knowing French or Italian was not only a new experience, but a confusing one. When one takes a tour of Europe, one should not expect being able to eat, sleep, or use the bathroom at one’s leisure. The trick is to pay close attention to the schedule, use the lavatory whenever possible, and try to passably learn a few helpful phrases. The best piece of information I picked up was to avoid the Parisian vendors like cockroaches. It is the only sure-fire way not to be accosted by several people who surround and/or pickpocket you.
Our reception in each country differed greatly. The tour itinerary consisted of London, Paris, Florence (my personal favorite!), and Rome, but we also went to Assisi, Capri, and Sorrento. Each country had its own quirks or unique qualities. That does not mean I always loved every second of it; I suppose I loved learning every second of it.
London was very clean and cold, but it felt familiar, like meandering through the streets of Washington DC. The people there were friendly enough, but not too inviting. I particularly enjoyed the interesting restaurant/pub names such as the Walrus and the Carpenter and other such farm-based titles. I still do not understand why that is. Some of my favorite memories include touring the Tower of London (where Anne Boleyn got her head chopped off!), receiving a free bag of cotton candy or “candy floss” (and that just might be the only floss the British use) from a nice vendor lady who was closing, and driving down Fleet Street. I only regret not getting the chance to meet Sweeney Todd.
In Paris, I got the impression that the French do not like Americans. I have no current plans on going back unless I somehow magically become fluent in French. The majority of the city is rather dodgy, with graffiti nearly everywhere, and creepy street vendors who love to harass people. It was not until later that I began to appreciate other aspects of the city such as the view of the capital from a bridge over the Seine River and the glittering Eiffel Tower late at night. Given the elevation, I could barely stand staying at the top of the freezing building, but I enjoyed the few brief moments I had up there.
I could go on forever about the splendors of Italy—the amiable, outspoken citizens, warm, rolling hills, and beautiful buildings that seemed to belong to the countryside. We spent an entire day shopping in Florence, which is basically an outdoor bazaar. All the buildings in the city seemed to have a reddish tinge to them and the streets were uneven cobblestones rather than paved roads. We then moved on to Assisi, which is a small town built into a mountain and an arduous uphill hike. However, the town was quaint and I had the most delicious slice of pizza ever. Rome and the Vatican, though equally impressive, could hardly compare to Florence and Assisi, but that is a matter of personal preference.
The final days of our tour were spent in Sorrento and Capri, the prettiest parts of Italy. We spent one day touring Pompeii and the marketplace that preceded it featured some of the largest lemons (results of volcanic soil) and most sexually explicit souvenirs I have ever seen. I realized later that these souvenirs were centered on the ancient city of Pompeii’s red-light district before it was completely preserved by lava from Mount Vesuvius thousands of years ago. The hotel in Sorrento had a private beach out back that we could see from our balcony, and our group had the best time swimming, especially because the water was clear and warm unlike the Pacific.
We ended the tour in the small island of Capri, which was both expensive and luxurious. Supposedly, it is the place where all the rich people go on vacation. I honestly cannot blame them.
Since returning, I feel I have developed more confidence in my everyday life. I am comfortable anywhere now because anywhere is not a moldy hotel room and the people around me speak English. My many adventures in Europe have caused me to appreciate simple comforts here in the US such toilet seats, electrical outlets that do not blow up my hairdryer, and large breakfasts. As an added bonus, my street smarts seem to have finally kicked in after a good sixteen years. Not only can I maneuver public transportation with ease, airport security is practically second nature.
I learned to love so much of Europe but especially the history, pizza, and art. Some things, however, I could live without, such as bidets, cigarettes, and croissants. All these experiences began with the scissors escapade at the airport, where I ignorantly boarded a plane with a pair of safety scissors. I would not have known myself back then.