Letters from across the Atlantic

In 1966 my parents travelled around Europe right after getting married. They purchased a VW Beetle, cream coloured, direct from the factory in Wolfsburg Germany and embarked on their “four-month motor tour of Europe”. I only heard tidbits about this trip over the years, like their $5 a day budget or the Iberian cowbell they purchased that signals dinner call at the cottage, but overall not a lot.

I was aware of the trip. That’s about it.

Even for my mother, most details were long forgotten. But apparently not lost. Sorting through my father’s belongings, we discovered my Dad’s little green travel journal and my Mom’s letters to her parents. 

A time capsule buried in the basement. 

My Dad planned the trip. He was determined to tour Europe to see the historical sites and architectural styles he studied at university. He was the tour guide. His writing in the travel journal is compact, both in terms of its tiny script and conciseness. The daily entries meticulously list the towns visited, churches, museums, weather, hotels, expenses etc. My Mom’s letters are more expressive. She keenly recounts her new experiences to her parents (photos below as they prepare for the wedding). Her descriptions are vivid. In fact, I had to stop reading her detailed account of a bull fight in Barcelona because I was getting queasy. It was evocative! 

Between the journal and the letters it’s a fairly comprehensive outline of their European voyage almost 60 years ago.

My mother was really pleased to be reunited with her letters. It seems to be a motherly trait to keep correspondence from your children (both my brother and I have gotten back printed emails and postcards we have sent to Mom). Anyways, the letters were tucked away somewhere for many years, and this was the first time she read them since they were mailed from across the Atlantic. She was 24 when she penned them. The first set were written on air mail paper from Canada Pacific, a single sheet of blue paper folded in quarters. My parents’ ferry crossing from Montreal to Greenock Scotland on the Empress of Canada took 6 days. They landed August 22, 1966.

From the first letter, you can feel my Mom’s sense of curiosity and discovery. I can relate. It’s like your senses are on overdrive when travelling. And this was her first exposure to Europe. 

On the train ride south to London, she sees Scotland as a “beautiful countryside similar to our Maritimes but much prettier and quainter.” In England  “everything is in miniature, the cars small, the roads narrow and twisting, the farms on a small scale…rows of houses exactly the same with three or four chimneys (but somehow much more interesting.)” She’s bursting with enthusiasm for London, “a fascinating city and yet so compact! We walked everywhere.”

“Love London!” (Aug 24, 1967)

My parents were both smitten with London. They decided to stay there for almost a year after the motor tour. It was easy in those days to get a job coming from a Commonwealth country. My Mom, a trained physiotherapist, basically showed up at the physiotherapy association and they immediately found her a posting at St. Mary Abbots Hospital. My Dad worked at Wimpey Construction Co partly in the capacity as an architect and partly as draftsman. 

They worked long hours (my Dad put in 60 hour weeks) as the cost of living was high, and could only afford a “cold and damp” basement apartment with costly “shilling meters” for gas and electricity.

Despite all this they loved London. 

In my Mom’s letters they are happily going out to the theatre and museums and outings to nearby villages as often as they could. They eagerly sought out the city’s cultural offerings: “there is so much to do here – free lectures and tours, live shows, theatres, cinemas, exhibition, sports etc” (April 24, 1967). She tells her parents in her letters it will be hard to return to “dull Canada” and she tries to convince her parents and brother to visit. Repeatedly.

“We’re still sightseeing on Sundays weather permitting, but don’t seem to be anywhere near seeing even London, and environment. Maybe we’ll have to stay another year.” (May 23, 1967)

It was an exciting time.

They both loved cooking gourmet and trying European dishes. My Mom took a Cordon Blue course to “learn cooking the famous French way”. My Dad started collecting an encyclopedia of cook books of cuisine from around the globe. This experimental cooking was in their tiny kitchen without a fridge so everything needed to be bought and cooked daily.

To brighten their dismal flat they painted the walls with some “cheap quick drying paint from Woolsworth”, off-white, and decorated with “all our goodies from the trip.” Their flat continued to feel more homey as they bought more unique decorative items, books, cooking utensils, etc. Each purchase was carefully considered given their tight budget and logistical concerns: “now we have another thing to worry about shipping home.”

Treasured items were eventually shipped home in a trunk. Amazingly some souvenirs from this trunk, packed up in 1967, are still around today. I was pleased to read about a purchase they made in Seville of a “beautiful hand carved set of bookends”. These carved bookends reside on my bookshelf, a slender Don Quixote and his partner Sancho Pancho, urging me to read Cervantes someday. I also discovered these charming bookends were purchased with Christmas money from my grandparents, which gives them even more meaning. They were were always so generous. 

 “We already spent your X-mas money by the way. A few days ago in Seville we saw a beautiful hand carved set of bookends, believe it or not, priced at $15.00. So we weakened and bought them with one of your checks.” (Dec 20, 1966)

I was also interested to read the backstory on the brass rubbings that decorated the living room walls in my childhood home. My Mom explained the process to her parents and included a small sample with her letter:

“In many of the old churches in England large and small there are brass-engraved tombs of famous clergy men, knights, Saints etc. … mainly floor tombs. Some are quite elaborate. They are engravings so when you rub with a special black wax stick through a white sheet of paper the raised part comes out black and the engraved white. It’s just like rubbing a coin with a pencil. They usually take from 1-4 hours to complete. We are planning to make a collection of our favourite which means travelling all over the country to get them.” (July 18, 1967)

And they did! We had three English knights, standing about 4 or 5 feet tall, posing in full armour at our house. 

They put a lot of mileage on that trusty VW Beetle, from the wilderness of Norway to the southern tip of Italy and over to Sicily. Constantly searching for a place to stay and eat everyday, on a strict budget, can “wear you down”. They both lost about 15 lbs. Yet the overall tone of my Mom’s letters is upbeat and enthusiastic. She’s happy. 

“…as time goes on and on we begin to see history and read about historical buildings, churches etc, it becomes more fascinating and beckoning all the time. Better and better.” (Oct 10, 1966) 

I enjoy reading her letters, and getting to know my young travel thirsty mother who was devouring Michelin guidebooks and falling in love with gothic architecture. It seemed like she always had more to write but ran out of space! (See below for more excerpts from the road trip – they drove through most Western European countries)

The long stay in London was essentially to save up money for more travels. They were both keen to keep travelling in no hurry to return home. My parents separated when I was ten, so for me the letters also offer a rare and touching glance at some happy moments they shared. 

 “There’s no real reason (to go home) – just that we love it here, we’re not homesick yet and there are so many more things to do and see and gain from this country. So we’ve decided to stay until we grow tired of it or want to go home. Honestly can you see any reason to return when we’re so happy here?” (June 12, 1967) 

I had to smile when my Mom wrote about one of her worst problems was getting Dad to buy himself some clothes. “Honestly he’s always telling me to to go buy myself a new pair of shoes or dress or something. But try to get him to spend money on himself!” (Oct 27, 1967). This never changed! My Dad preferred to wear the same clothes until they wore out rather than but something new.

They saved up enough money to take a month leave from work to tour Scotland and Ireland, which they enjoyed even through persistent mist and rain. Unfortunately they had a setback arriving back in London. The day they arrived, before fully checking into the hotel, their car was broken into and most luggage stolen, including all of my Dad’s clothes. My Mom’s luggage was thankfully already in the hotel room.

“Poor Andy felt absolutely ill. He only had left what he was wearing.” (Sept 15, 1967)

Their living conditions improved in a new “clean, comfortable and livable” flat but they soon started thinking “homeward bound” (Sept 15, 1967). They finally decided to go home for Christmas 1967. My Dad also started suffering from severe wheezing attacks and asthma (likely due to the damp climate) and had to repeatedly rest and convalesce (10 days once, doctors orders). One doctor suggested he would cure in Canada (he did not, he had asthma all his life, but at least had proper treatment). On December 14 1967 they flew to New York, picked up the shipped VW Beetle, and from there drove home to Canada. 

They were abroad almost a year and a half.

My Mom seemed confident in her letters she would return and visit more of Europe…“another place to more fully explore someday.” I recall having the same feeling on my backpacking trip, making a mental list of return trips. Ah the optimism of youth! It was well over 30 years before she returned. 

It’s not until I wrote this post that I realized her next crossing of the Atlantic (by plane this time) was with me. 

She had just retired. It was 2002, I had a work trip to Paris and suggested she join me. She was hesitant at first, worried about the long flight given her back troubles, but her desire to see Notre-Dame overpowered. She loved it all over again. The week in Paris reignited her traveling spirit and confidence, and sparked many more European travels in the years to come.

I am happy my Mom’s letters resurfaced. Maybe grandkids might want to read them someday? Handwritten letters, sent by airmail, are a relic in the digital age. More than anything however, I am glad we found them now so my Mom could read them. Relive those memories.

And share them with me.

A few excerpts from their four-month motor tour

Sept 7, 1966 – Denmark, Germany

“There is so much to do in this town (Copenhagen) we don’t know which way to turn.” “Pastries are delicious.” 

“Copenhagen we love. Still much more to see. I have never felt so cultured in my life. Three museums, one art gallery, plus historical castles. The life and love of Copenhagen is the Tivoli. …great bargains on Teak furnishings which is tempting.”

“East Berlin is unbelievable. Ruins, in many cases not even cleaned up, prevail the city. People and cars seem few and scarce, mostly drearily dressed and never a smile. I couldn’t believe my eyes – it was as though the war had just ended.”

Oct 10, 1966 – Sweden, Norway, Holland, Belgium

“Sweden was very disappointing – just like Ontario with less to see. One memorable place was an old church (Ureta Cloister) 1000AD!! Beautiful touching interior – I’ll never forget it.”

“Hardest place (Oslo) to find a room so ended up in a beautiful modern private home straight up the cliff with a fantastic view of the city! Not much to see – but the countryside – magnificent ! We spent one week in the Norwegian mountains – Andy’s first time in the mountains- he loved it.”

“Contrary to popular opinion we loved Amsterdam. How could a city with numerous canals and bridges be unbeautiful?

“Saw Rotterdam (destroyed in war and modern), The Hague (international courts), Antwerp and Brussels – but a small city Ghent with medieval buildings and sights unbelievable. This place was the best on our journey yet. We regret not spending more time – churches (900 AD), old guild house, castle!!”

October 30, 1966 – Germany

“Then on to the famous Rhine valley which is truly beckoning and beautiful even though we have been blessed by abundant rain. Castles dot the hilltops all along the Rhine and some are very well preserved – real, true castles with machicolations and crenellations (a mouthful my architectural husband keeps spouting out). Anyhow, another place to more thoroughly explore some day.”

Nov 11, 1966 – Italy

“All cities and towns are old medieval and fascinating to our eyes. The country (Italy) is very poor, the churches beautiful. Problems here are many. Everyone wants money. Broken into cars are frequent which is a continual worry and meals are sky high in price. A fascinating country, but think we will be a little relieved to head North again.”

Nov 27, 1966  – Italy (they spend a whole month in Italy)

“Naples was great. On the blue blue Mediterranean rocky cliff shoreline it enjoys a perfect setting. But my favourite was the Isle of Capri. …Picture a small island rising up by the white shining cliffs from turquoise green blue waters to two plateaus separated by a rocky cliff (this is no fairy tale ). Narrow stone walled lanes, cypress and olives tress, white and yellow stucco buildings each with enclosed planted courtyards often harvesting cacti. Honestly, it’s a dreamland”

Dec 20, 1966 – Spain

“Travelling conditions are (almost) perfect. There is very little traffic, polite drivers, good roads, cheap and comfortable places to stay and good four course dinners reasonable. Needless to say this has been a real “holiday” part of our trip.”

“But the countryside is fascinating. It is a panorama of continual variation. From the rocky cliffs along Costa Brava (north shore) to fertile orange plantations, into barren hills with only shrubs and cacti, to another fertile huerta growing rice, into nothing but earth and dry river beds and barren sierra as far as the eye can see back down to a sugar cane growing huerta, up into the moon-like clay hills and finally along sandy beaches lined with hotels. We have pictures as the sun always shines”

“England seems to be the worst country to spend winter in, but it’s the only sensible place for us to obtain jobs and save money for more travelling.”

Jan 1, 1967 – Spain, Portugal

“We are still travelling with Andy’s brother Mart (since X-mas!). He leaves us tomorrow – he is heading south from Madrid to Africa – we are heading north to France and England. Portugal was a very enjoyable country. Lots to see compared to south Spain and terrific meals. We all lived like kings for four days on under $5/day. North Spain has also proved more interesting with its medieval walls, aqueducts (Roman) and cathedrals. Food pretty poor after Portugal though.”