FLASHBACK: Semi-Grand Tour (1975)

Immediately after graduating from Columbia, I went to Europe:  London and Paris, where my parents had taken me as a child, plus Athens, Crete and Mykonos.  It was my first solo trip, entirely planned with the Let's Go guidebook.

Cynthia's apartment in London served as home base.  We met while working at the College Library. She and her best friend Sarita--you never said one name without the other--knew everybody.  I called Cynthia the Perle Mesta of Hartley Hall.  While everyone else chugged beer at parties, she whipped up tasty appetizers and desserts in her dorm room using just a hot plate and a toaster oven.  More than 80 of my housemates in the Pines have enjoyed the stuffed mushrooms I made using her fail-safe recipe. 

Nothing fazed Cynthia.  Not even a friend still confused about his sexuality, although we never discussed it.  She temporarily moved back to London when she didn't get into veterinary school.  We were in the same boat:  Columbia's School of Journalism had fruitlessly waitlisted me and I was biding time at Stuart's place.  Our paths forward still had a log of zigs and zags but we stayed in close touch. She even sent me a copy of "God Save the Queen," the first Sex Pistols single before it was released in the States.

Cynthia resided with her sister and mother in Knightsbridge, not far from Harrods, in the Barracks, quite a prestigious address.   Look hard and you can see Cynthia peeking out from the balcony on a facade that I still recalled nearly 50 years later.

Here's Penny, who looks like Joan Didion after she cut her hair.

Cynthia took me to Hampton Court Palace.  It seems to be the only day that I took many pictures.  The color faded long ago.

 

We also shopped at Biba, a hip clothing store in Kensington where I bought a vividly striped, skintight, boat-neck shirt, the first acquisition of the Jeffrey Hon Clothes Museum.  

We danced at a gay disco (Rod's?) where a dark man in fishnet stocking bewitched me.  We saw Lindsay Kemp, a mime and one of Bowie's mentors, perform Flowers, which I didn't get at all. 

We dined at the Hard Rock Cafe, then the only one in the world, where I bought the t-shirt with the logo that flattered a million chests.  I wore mine proudly for more than a decade.

Then I flew to Paris where I spent several days with another friend from the library, Suzyn and another woman whose name I have forgotten.  Now that I think about it, they may have been lesbians.  Despite Stonewall less than a decade earlier, many of us remained cautious about revealing our sexuality.

Gargoyles obsessed me. They still do.

Poor Cynthia.  After returning from Paris, I did nothing but throw-up all night long in her apartment, ruining one of my favorite shirts not to mention whatever far-flung spew she or her mother had to clean up afterward.  I still recall how much I enjoyed quenching my all-consuming thirst with delicious can of Coke after Coke before flying to Athens.  Apparently my room had an Acropolis view.  I know that I walked there in heat that reminded me of El Paso.

If not for these photos, I'm not sure I could confirm I actually went there.  

My memories of Crete, including the crowded, filthy ferry, and Mykonos, however, are quite vivid despite limited photographic evidence, particularly of my first (and only) vacation romance.  I wonder if there's a connection?  

Crete, Palace at Knossos

Palace at Knossos

Minoan Horns of Consecration, Palace at Knossos

"Prince of Lillies" Plaster Relief, Palace of Knossos 

I included Mykonos on my itinerary because it's where all the "beautiful people" went in 70s.  It was easy to find a cheap room in a whitewashed house on a winding street.

Mykonos, View from the Ferry

Mykonos Harbor

Three German frauleins accompanied me on a ferry to Super Paradise Beach.  Pat Cleveland was on the boat, too.  Gudrun, center below, sternly commanded me to remove my swimming trunks as soon as we arrived.  "We don't care about the size of you penis, only the curve of your butt," she claimed when I balked.  On the return trip, I hooked up with Niko, who cared about both.  If only I'd gotten his picture instead!

I can't remember where these photos were taken.

In any case, my solo tour of the Greek isles taught me my first great travel lesson:  you're much more likely to meet people on your own.