Americans We Have Met in Europe

There is a great difference in members of tour groups that we meet from time to time. One year, while we were in the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, France, we met two tour groups from the United States. The first group were neatly dressed, attentive, well-behaved high school students (from Macon, Georgia), escorted by their French teacher. Within the hour we met a sloppily dressed, disinterested, rowdy group of high school students (from Philadelphia), the very epitome of the “Ugly American.” I talked to members of both groups, and never found out why this latter group even bothered to come to Paris. They didn’t know or care where they were or why.

Another year, while strolling through Montmartre in Paris, we met a group of students from Nebraska. I enjoyed asking them questions about the places they had visited so far, and telling them some things not to miss during the rest of their trip. A group that was both learning and enjoying themselves.

In the campsite in Lucerne, Switzerland, in 1983, we camped next to George and Peggy from the US. They had shipped their VW from the US, and had been traveling for three or four months—loved it. We don’t see many Americans in campsites in Europe, less than 10 times in 605 nights in 25 countries.

At the Rothenburg, Germany, campsite, in 1985, there were about 20 American couples from Hemet, Calif., each with a rented VW camper. They paid their air fare, $35 per day for the camper, and $500 for six weeks of the tour leader’s time. The leader arranged for the campsites, give directions to the next night’s spot, and sometimes arranged dinners and evening entertainment. On their own during the day, they met at night. Some people like the regimentation, Emmy and I are so individualistic we have said “no” to offers for us to be “wagon masters.”

In 1988, Mitchell and Marilyn, friends and neighbors from La Quinta, California, were on vacation in Germany. They were visiting friends not far from Mettlach, so we picked them up one day, did a fast tour of Trier, Saarburg, and Cousin Toni’s house in Mettlach, then took them to Ramstein Air Base, where they enjoyed a suite at the General’s Hotel.

Mitch, a retired Marine Colonel and recipient of the Congressional Metal of Honor, deserved, and was treated with all the honor and respect the guards at the main gate could muster. The guard’s footprint, as he snapped to attention, must still be visible in the asphalt street.