1981 Europe, Eurail Trekker

We avoided Charles's and Diana's mobs-an'-snobs royal wedding. Our 1981 Eurail first-class passes didn't include Iron Curtain countries as the Cold War simmered. We lugged our gear in our two backpacks, and we saw many parts of Europe by hopping onto any European train, plonking ourselves on first-class seats, and waving our Eurail passes at inspectors.

At Chartres Cathedral, France, we lingered under elongated sculptures, and smiled at mediaeval floppy-hats worn by local ladies...

At Pamplona, Spain, accommodation was fully-booked. We hiked from town, and camped beside a bridge. After Running-of the Bulls, tipsy Spaniards staggered about a square, wearing white clothes. Red scarves were tied around foreheads. We watched a procession - clowns with hobbyhorses strapped to their shoulders capered along cobbled streets, laughing, hitting each other and onlookers with big foam-rubber clubs.

In Madrid, a dope-smoking couple invited us to their parents' flat. After a squabble with the caretaker, objecting to foreigners in his building, we went upstairs for a late supper. We met more dope -smokers at an all-night street-disco - blaring music. Next morning, at the Prado there were no lockers, so Leah sat in a park, guarding our backpacks, while Yanks threw frisbees. I looked at Goyas, then guarded our backpacks, while Leah art-farted. We liked Madrid and friendly Spaniards.

Spanish tranvia were overcrowded, slow and dissolute. "Es un problema grande senor," said station ticket-sellers, harassed by clamouring tourists. Yanks irked with loud, demanding voices. If I was rude to ticket-sellers, they spat back my rudeness, then ignored us, serving other tourists. Politeness quickly got our tickets. Like locals, we ate salted sunflower-seeds, spitting husks onto platforms.

Trekking south, our train-driver stopped his train for a track-side pee-chat with a friend, before continuing our trek.

Trekking west, on our Lisbon-bound night-train, squashed eight passengers per hot compartment (second-class passengers crowded corridors), a pissed Yank crunched empty beer cans, while we tried to sleep, wedged between other passengers... By Lisbon Bay, we lunched on a wall. A street-pusher pushed marijuana. "Piss off!" I said.

At Evora we stayed in a hilltop B-and-B. We ignored skulls in a church...

At Seville, we lingered in a pension courtyard, amidst fountains and trellised roses. Sahara winds blew, while we drank wine from our leather wine-bag...

Cordoba: We admired Moorish red-and white-striped arches...

Barcelona was muggy, like Durbs. Trekking north, a hippy-druggie on our train had no ticket, sang ditties, winked at his posy, trying to elbow tourists from their seats. The ticket-inspector bundled him off at the next station. Our Switzerland-bound train was overbooked, and a Spaniard, waving a ticket with Leah's seat-number, tried ousting Leah from her seat. "Piss off!" I said.

A German Swiss official pointed at my spotty jeans and scorned. We ignored the twerp... On Lake Thun ferry, a wine-waiter said, "William Tell really shot an apple off his son's head... In Geneva, we bought Lets Go Europe, so we could find campsites...

On a Rhine cruise, we saw castles and vineyards. Coal-barges chugged along, while riverside trains rattled by. We drank wine on a Moselle cruise...

At Koln, we stared at Koln Cathedral's WW2 bomb-pitted facade, and watched buskers performing for the crowd...

At Amsterdam station, while we perused our map, a cop warned us not to display our valuables, as thieves lurked. At the central Amsterdam campsite, druggies sprawled outside tents, dope-pipes and dope-pouches displayed. Dirty druggies wandered about smoking dope. After a canal-boat trip, we looked at art galleries and Anne Frank museum, and dodged pavement dog shit. Back at camp, we discovered a druggie had stolen our spare pounds and francs we'd kept for later use, stashed deep in a backpack. The scumbag had left our packs looking undisturbed.

We watched tatooists working on Hamburg's Reeperbahn. Leah gripped my hand, while whores scowled and pimps stared. I counted ten tarts in a row, leaning against a wall, dangling thighs in the sun.

Northwards, train services, speed and efficiency improved. Prices also increased. Our Scandinavia trek was, "been-there-done-that..." Scandinavians were clap-board people stifled by welfare-statism. Third World poverty and degradation was foreign to them. At Copenhagen, we ticked off Little Mermaid statue overlooking the harbour. Tivoli Gardens was full of poofy people, paying for sticky thrills.

From Fredrikshaven, we train-ferried to Gothenburg, where buses confused us. We had no local cash. A lady paid for our self-serve -bus-tickets. Her's was the only kindness we experienced in Scandinavia. As foreign backpackers seemed resented, we got glares and hostile comments. Never mind our spending money in Scandinavia. We caught the night-train to Stockholm, where we liked cobbled squares, and Leah liked blonde lady cops.

On the Finland ferry, I wondered whether jellyfish, in Turku archipelago waters, were like Scandinavians - spineless, poisonous, brainless?

See Eurail website.