Call of Europe

During my retreat at Holy Cross Abbey, I had picked up a wonderful index of all of the monasteries and Catholic guesthouses throughout Europe, listed alphabetically. Since then I toyed with the idea of continuing my meditation on this old continent of wine, culture, and rich history. Of course, the deciding factor was resources and I was running out. Like a good market researcher, I hunted the airlines and websites until I found a roundtrip ticket to London for $550 (including tax)...

Now I have distant family in London, friends in Paris, and vague acquaintances in Switzerland and Germany. This was the time to turn on the charm and invite oneself into the warm households of those folks whose company would surely be delightful if I actually knew them. Undaunted, I propositioned them and got an invitation for respective visits in Surrey, Chantilly, Zurich, and Hamburg. Travel is the ultimate motivation and I have since learned that I appear far more likeable than I really am.

So I took the overnight flight from New York to London, and I emerged groggy and slightly bewildered as I set foot on British soil at 6pm. My aunt Thai, actually my mother's cousin, was situated in the suburb of Surrey outside of London so I took a bus and then the train to her home. Then I dragged the inordinately heavy duffel bag down the interminable four blocks from the train station to her flat. Yes, that's the fatigue talking. Surrey was a quaint town, with pubs, a barber shop, photography studio, and a store which sold refrigerators and ovens. Aunt Thai's place was two stories up, situated between a wine shop and a mom & pop grocery, the only entrance was up ladder-like stairs in the back.

I arrived at 10am. The door was answered by a congenial gentleman named Nigel, who informed me that Aunt Thai had to go to work. However, she had left guidebooks, maps and handwritten notes welcoming me in a graceful, girlish scrawl. Nigel showed me the spare bedroom and a neatly made bed, upon which I promptly collapsed.