I was determined but very much fearing the unknown. It was April 1972, and my first ever trip abroad. Alone. I had a very ambitious itinerary and much wide eyed anticipation, but, like going off to college years before, there were nagging worries about coping with a very big world out there all by myself.
I boarded TWA 770 at O’Hare nonstop to London. This was an auspicious beginning, coddled in first class with Chateaubriand , ice cream sundaes , and alcohol to mollify any trepidations ...until we landed early morning. Then into the hubbub of Heathrow, taxi downtown, and getting situated at the Grosvenor Hotel in Mayfair. Getting my clock reset to a 6 hour time difference, I went to bed, setting off the next morning on my grand adventure. London Tower, Westminster, St Paul's, Harrods; all had my neck aching from all the gawking, but it went exceedingly well exploring the captivating city.
Onward on BEA ( aspic of quail eggs inflight breakfast- UGH ) to Amsterdam where I guested at the famous Amstel Hotel and was guided about the area by Dutch friends of my back home co-worker, Anita. Spring blooming Keukenhof gardens and Volendam, Rijksmuseum, Chinese food downtown, and making new friends made for another grand adventure there.
Next was Dusseldorf to visit Werner, a friend who was earlier exchange student back in high school. Werner was an activist/artist living in the old bombed out district of town. It was an artists garret he shared with a Lufthansa stewardess who was also a mountain climber ( Like Mt Everest kind of climber) . We did a street protest, watched the Apollo 16 lunar landing at a tavern ( where, as American, I was the center of attention to an awed crowd.) Poetry slams in German, new wave music and beers were part of this segment; but mostly it was about a hamster. Werner had no gas service in this old part of town. He had a old stove but it was nonoperational and they used it as domicile for girlfriend’s pet hamster. The hamster was let out to play in the morning and it evidently shat upon my toast when I was distracted. By the next day I was caught in the throes of stomach distress. But I pushed onward on a short flight to Paris.
I have no idea how I managed to get myself to the noted Hotel Meurice on Avenue George V, overlooking the Gardens Tuileries. This 5 star landmark immediately responded to my distress, dispatching the house physician to my suite. He give me some meds and proscribed two days of bed rest and fluids. So, my first spring visit to glorious Paris in a grand suite with a balcony overlooking the Louvre and Gardens, was spent lying in a sweat reeking couche and spending a lot of time in the salle de bains. By the third day I was queasy, but much better, ordering some toast and tea. Being a five star hotel, each floor had a room service kitchen that produced a feast served by two liveried waiters while sitting in my stinking bedclothes. As sumptuous as it was, my delicate stomach allowed only for the toast and tea. But I showered , dressed and set out determined to see what I could of this “City of Light” in full springtime bloom in my remaining few days.
Being so close, I set forth to the Louvre. A period structure more like a labyrinth than museum, I strolled and marveled- so much beauty, that I had almost become numbed after awhile. I was about to leave when I turned a corner, and, all alone in a gallery was one painting, inside a bulletproof plastic box with humidity control and surrounded by roped stanchions preventing closer inspection. Here was “Mona.” There were surprisingly few people there along with me.
I was saddened. This famous icon had but a solitary sentinel in her dark room, alone, with this glorious blossoming city outside. Yet, she smiled in knowing enigma. Much, much smaller than I had imagined , her simple countenance was overtaken by this huge ornate frame unbefitting her simple purity. Maybe it was overwhelming awe, but my memory of that moment recalls thinking of pity; that this famous woman was imprisoned for eternity , unable to let her smile escape to fullness , captured for all time as a frozen object of adoration . I was transfixed in remorse. I stood for some moments, until a German tour group boisterously destroyed my mood. Having no further use for roaming the Louvre (That would wait until my next visit years later,) I went outside and taxied over to the Eiffel Tower area to roam in the spring color of Champs-de-Mars gardens before a lovely early dinner and show at the Lido de Paris .
Next morning up and hotel limo to DeGaulle for TWA 707 Ambassador service back to the US. I was still trying to sort out my feelings of Mona Lisa. She was not at all what I expected, but she sure had left a lasting impression.
-Jerry Wendt 2019
