The great thing about traveling, when you’re older, is the number of friends you have living or vacationing overseas. At the end of May, I left Armenia and headed to Moldova. The Eastern European country is often referred to as the “least visited” in Europe. I planned on going there, five years ago, while serving in Peace Corps Armenia. One of my Duke University friends and his wife were PC Moldova volunteers. Near the end of their service, they visited Armenia. It turned out, they also knew the older married couple, in my cohort. They all served together, for a year, in Moldova.

Here’s a travel tip for you. Never visit a city two days before an European Political Community Summit. The only hotel I could book was expensive and packed. I had to book another one, two days later, when I learned that I was trapped in Chişinău. The airport was closed, until June 2nd. This would all begin to make sense when I learned that Ukraine’s president, Volodymyr Zelenskyy, was attending the summit. My taxi driver wasn’t allowed to drop off passengers, at my next hotel. I grabbed my luggage and carefully made my way around the police barricade. Checked in and ready for lunch, I found a restaurant, with really good reviews. The police blocking that street waved me off. EU delegates were staying at the hotel across from the restaurant.

Two friends emailed to say they were joining me in Florence, Italy. The problem was my trip to Florence was a no go. So, I got in touch with an old Peace Corps Ethiopia friend, who’d retired, and moved to Italy. She agreed to host me and my two visiting friends, before they headed onward to their pre booked vacation, in Venice and then Florence. I traveled with them, by train, from Casalbordino, and then departed to visit an old friend from grad school. She and her husband are now both retired and living in Bevagna, a medieval hill town, in the Umbria region. I arrived during the annual medieval festival and had an amazing time. Then, after a month of bees, beaches, and the Adriatic Sea, followed by archery competitions, medieval eats, and Saint Francis of Assisi, I met back up with my two tourists friends, in Rome.

I met Toshiki Hirose, (known for Prisoners of the Ghostland (2021), Tokyo Vice (2022) and Just Remembering (2021), at my hotel’s bar, in Paris. My IBIS hotel was accessible via the free airport shuttle. The lobby was packed. So, I gave up on checking in and got a Coke. I have never seen any of Toshiki’s films. So, I had no idea that he’s an actor. At some point, the subject of Michael Jackson came up. I pulled out my 1977 photo with him, at the Grammy Awards after party. And, in short fashion, Toshiki and I became friends. The next day, I headed to Biarritz and began shopping for the Camino. A few days later, I took the city bus, to the Bayonne train station. Luckily, I found a seat, in the single car, standing room only, train to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. There was no turning back. In two days, it would be my 67th birthday and I was walking the French Way.

If I knew then what I know now, I would have spent less time (in Italy) and used up more days (of my 90 day EU visa) on the Camino. I was slow and 790km is a long way to travel, by foot. I’d leave my hotel at 6:30 am and arrive at the end of my 20km day twelve hours later. It took the average pilgrim five or six. On day thirty, I finally reached the 100km marker, where many pilgrims begin their journey from the town of Sarria. Most complete the final 100k to Santiago de Compostela in 5 days. It took me ten. I was beat! Fortunately, a good friend, from my grad school days, messaged and said she was meeting me at the end. This gave the push I needed to finish. Someone was flying in to greet me. I continued forward.

My final day, from Monte de Gozo, was a short three miles. I was in pain. It had been a long forty days and I was feeling all of them. At the final push, through Santiago de Compostela, two pilgrims greeted me. We chatted for a while and then they asked if I would be OK with them escorting me to the Cathedral. I was happy to have the company, to have someone there, as witness, while I took my final steps. And, as it turned out. I couldn’t find my friend. She was waiting at the main entry for the church and I was waiting, in the square, where all the pilgrims gather. A few WhatsApp messages later, we figured it out. Then, we had a few days to hang out, take a few sightseeing tours, and eat some mussels!

My first solo international trip was to London, in 1984. Back then, you arrived, took the Tube to Victoria Station, and booked your lodging from the accommodations desk, in the terminal. I was given an address for a shared room, in Bayswater, an area known for Kensington Gardens. On my recent trip, I stayed in South Kensington. Walking back from lunch, a woman noticed my Hard Rock Cafe Yerevan tee shirt. She asked if I was going to the prayer service for Nagorno-Karabakh. I followed her to the church. Although she explained to friends that I had served in Peace Corps Armenia, they were still surprised that I could greet them in the language. It was such an honor being there. A few days later, I met up with two Peace Corps Ethiopia friends, at an Ethiopian restaurant, near Earl’s Court.

The last time I was in Northern Ireland, I was picked up (by my backpack) and thrown to the floor, in a Marks and Spencer. My backpack was opened and its contents dumped out. After stuffing my belongings back into my bag, I noticed the large sign that said “Leave All Bags Here!” The year was 1985. I quickly left the store and walked to the train station. My plan was to travel to Derry. I’m from Detroit. I’d be ok in Derry. Once at the station, I purchased a ticket for Dublin. Last month, on my return to Belfast, I booked an AirBnB, near Falls Road. I could walk downtown, pass the murals, in under an hour’s time. Finally, I took the train to Derry/London Derry. I’m so happy that I waited. I wasn’t really ready for Derry, in 1985. Now, after my three week visit, I can’t wait to return.

I arrived in Cardiff last September and spent three weeks. I’m back, again, at the close of my first year of international travel. I am staying in the same AirBnB. It feels like home. I have a five minute walk (ok .. it takes me ten) to the nearby coffeeshop, grocery stores, and fast food restaurants. The German exchange student, in the third room, has returned home. That leaves me with the seventy three year old Irishman who joined the “boys” army at age fifteen. He loves the Monarchy, Boris Johnson, and Brexit. We have hour long conversations, in the shared kitchen. He’s been here three months and is trying to get council housing. The process has not been going his way, but the tide is turning.

In spite of our differences, we get along very well. We can discuss anything, race, his hatred of BLM (I think he thinks it started in England) and many other issues. I doubt that I could have these conversations back in the USA. It’s been nice to listen, give my take on the subject, cook dinner, do laundry, and then, say good night. The next day is always the same. We talk. We listen. We agree. We disagree. And, through it all, we’re able to live under the same roof. Maybe that’s just what happens after a full year of travel. You’re not trying to prove anything. You’re just present for the journey.

Thanks to all our new followers and to those who have been following all along. Happy Holidays! And, many thanks for being part of this adventure. XOXO— GGT