I am itching to go to France, to Europe,
again. Actually, I really want to do
what I did as recently as 2001, just before 9/11: Buy the cheapest round-trip ticket to Paris I
can find, bring my bike with me and decide where I’m going to ride once I get
there.
The first time I did that, I didn’t come back for
a long, long time. (Actually, I bought
an open-ended round-trip ticket to London.
Are such things still available?) I rode through the English countryside
to Dover and took the ferry to Calais, from which I rode through Belgium, the
Netherlands and back into France, where I stayed for as long as I could. Other times, I pedaled to Italy, Spain,
Germany, Switzerland or the Netherlands and back.
When I took such trips—even the first, my first
outside North America—I never felt like a tourist. Even though my French—or, for that matter,
English-- wasn’t nearly as good as I thought it was after the classes I took, I
felt (with much justification, I believe) I was experiencing the countries, the
cultures and all of the architecture and art I’d seen in books and classrooms
in ways that those who followed trails emblazoned with American Express signs
never could.
On the other hand, when I went to Prague three
years ago, I knew I was a tourist. It
didn’t have anything to do with the way people treated me; for that matter, it
didn’t even have to do with the fact that I knew nothing of the Czech
language. Many residents of Prague speak
German—of which I know a little-- nearly as well as they speak their own
language, which is not a surprise when you consider that the area’s
history. And I found it surprisingly
easy to find people who spoke English, or even French. But I stayed in a hotel and rented a bike
which while, enjoyable enough to ride, was nothing like the ones I brought with
me on previous trips. In contrast, in
all of my other trips, I usually stayed in hostels. Sometimes I’d camp, and once in a while I’d
stay in a pension or inexpensive hotel if the other options weren’t available
or I was too tired or lost to find them—or I simply wanted to treat myself.
During the first years of my gender transition, I
wasn’t thinking about taking a trip like the ones I took every other year or
so. Then, for a few years, I told myself
I didn’t want to take such trips—or so I told myself—because I saw them as part
of my life as a male being, which I was leaving in my past. I also figured that I couldn’t take such
trips, which I usually did alone, because I believed that travelling solo as a
woman would not be safe.
But I realize that other women have taken bike or
other trips by themselves. More
important, I think I still have the same ability to function on my own that I
had when I was younger, and male. If anything, I can function better on my own,
in part because I have a better sense of when I need to ask for help, or when I
want to do things with other people.
Now I see two barriers to doing a trip like the
ones I did in my youth. One is
cost. The past few years have been more
difficult for me, financially, than those years of my 20’s, 30’s and early
40’s. Even if my income were keeping
pace with the kind of money I made in those days—or if I came upon the
serendipities that sometimes came my way—it would be harder to take such a trip
because it’s much more expensive. Back
in the day, my biggest expense was the plane fare: Once I got to Europe, I could live cheaply
and relatively well, even when exchange rates weren’t so favorable to the
dollar. But, since the introduction of
the Euro, everything has gotten much more expensive. Europeans I know say as much.
The other is that I wasn’t in the kind of physical
condition I was in those days. Some
people have told me it’s to be expected, simply because my age. Also, more than a decade of taking hormones
and my surgery left me with less physical strength and endurance than I had in
those days. Plus, as much as I love
cycling, I don’t do as much of it as I did in those days. That, of course, may
have something to do with my physical changes.
Still, I would love to take the sort of trip I
used to take, and to experience it as the person I am now. Some might say that’s an unrealistic
hope. But, until someone can show me
that it’s empirically impossible, I’ll continue to hold out such a hope—and to
do what I can to prepare for such a trip.
