Could one do the same things today?

Gordon Barlow ViP

Member since 19 February 2012

Gordon BarlowViP06 January 2013 18:38:34

1188

I've just posted on my personal blog a reminiscence of the first trip I ever made in Continental Europe, called "The Summer of '63". Of course '63 is a long, long, time ago, before most members of ExpatBlog were born! Still, what I am wondering is whether the travels that we all did once upon a time (in whatever years) could be done today.

Customs change (hitch-hiking is less common now), laws change (there's more need for Work Permits now), and so on. What can EB members tell us of their personal experiences that would be a whole lot more difficult today? I can't be the only one who would be very interested in reading about them.

(The posting I mentioned above is labelled T-13 in my Archives Menu. T stands for Travel. Previous postings, T-1 to T-12, are about other adventures and experiences from slightly more recent times. Some of those travels I know for sure could not be done today - the ones in Iraq and Iran, at least.)

HaileyinHongKong ViP

Member since 28 December 2010

HaileyinHongKongViP07 January 2013 15:05:12

4723

My mother was born in 1963.

Fred Indonesia Expert

Member since 02 August 2009

A smile is the universal welcome.
Max Eastman

FredIndonesia Expert07 January 2013 21:21:33

29825

HaileyinHongKong wrote:
My mother was born in 1963.

You, dear lady, are nothing but a spring chicken.

My old, but surprisingly sexy body, was born in 1962.
Sadly for it, I didn't really travel all that much until my wonderful, muscular frame got to over 40 years old.
I did take a wander to France for a couple of weeks. I was really fed up with work so I booked two weeks holiday, bought a tent, jumped on a 500cc Honda XBR and drove to Dover.
It was the time when a mass murderer was on the loose in my home town so a few people assumed I'd skipped the country to avoid that.
In actual fact, I was just avoiding an angry sheep farmer until he calmed down.
Anyway, I was pretty tired when I got to Dover because it's a really long ride from Yorkshire so I pitched my tent and grabbed about 40 million winks.
Next morning saw me on the ferry to Calais where, upon disembarking, I realised I had no clue where to go, no clue about France and didn't know the French word for "map".
There are essentially two roads out of town.
One says "Paris" (I understand it was commonly referred to as "Gay Paris" but I gather that isn't as popular these days with the change in meaning of the word.) and the other, Le Sud (The south).
All English school children are whipped into learning French.
The vast majority forget every word within 30 seconds of the final exams because we hate it.
My French lessons did have one small advantage, well, if I were to tell the truth, two very large advantages as our French teacher was a very nicely put together young lady. This did nothing to assist the boys in their total disinterest in the language but we were all more than keen to go to her class for other reasons.

The road to Paris, gay or otherwise, was packed like a sardine tin so I took the other road but not until after I'd sauntered (you can't walk in France) into a newsagent's shop to purchase a map of that fair land.
My attempt to buy a map involved saying "La France" in a loud voice and drawing a square in the air with my hands.
The loud voice is an essential tool for an Englishman so foreigners can understand English.
One map and a really bugged shop assistant later saw me trying to decide where to drive. I knew the road by now because I'm fantastic with maps but I had no clue which side of the ruddy road to drive on.
Oh well, it's almost time I left the house now so I'll do the expedited edition of the rest.
I went to the south of France and back, via the Alps.