Foot in the World
1st time in Europe
Don't give up, insist...
This time, we decided to fly higher, to Europe. But, it all started with the following story.
In 1988, Vera was applying for a scholarship to study film at Agfa Gevaert, a Belgian multinational that was one of the largest manufacturers of photographic equipment. At the time, she sent a letter – yes, a letter – to the company and received a very encouraging response. They told her to contact Agfa Gevaert Argentina. She did what they recommended and received positive feedback.
In the meantime, the company hired a representative in São Paulo. They scheduled a meeting. The representative, very helpful and friendly, said that he thought it was really cool that she was willing to leave everything behind in Brazil to study abroad. And finally, the scholarship was awarded... But not to Vera. It was awarded to the son of the same representative who conducted the interview, the one who had heaped so many compliments on her. We were disappointed. Life went on. Still disappointed with the final result, we decided to go to Europe anyway.
At the time, the Brazilian government allowed people to buy only $1,000 per person. But we didn’t have more than that. We even sold a telephone – believe it or not, at the time we bought and sold landlines. With the money, we bought a Eurail Pass, which was valid for 30 days, starting on our first trip. We could get on and off the trains, in first class, as many times as we wanted and wherever we wanted to go within Europe.
So, we decided to start in Holland. We arrived there with a guidebook that said “Europe for $20 a day” and with our limited fluency in English, but with an enviable nerve. We spent thirty days eating Big Macs, because they were the cheapest. After a few days in the country, we left for London.
We got off at Heathrow airport and went to the “Tourist Information”, as we had done in Lima, Peru.
When we got there, we were informed that the hotels were full because of several events in the city. The receptionist called here and there until she found a hotel. An African boy, who was in the same situation, asked to see if there was a vacancy for him at that same hotel. After getting the reservation, he wanted to share a taxi. We promptly said that we would go by subway. And he said: - “me too”.
Following the maxim that “those with a mouth go to Rome”, we took the subway and arrived at our hotel. It was a dump, but it was already night. Early the next day, we went to Victoria Station to look for another place. We stayed on Gloucester Road, in a hotel that, coincidentally, had some Brazilians working there. Our breakfast was always very generous. They would put slices of bacon and several eggs, one on top of the other, so that the hotel owner wouldn’t see. Their rooms were in the basement of the hotel. They were very cramped. Sometimes they would call us to chat, have a drink and we would laugh a lot about the situation. And so, we spent some very fun days and nights in London. We visited the city’s points of interest and drank many pints of beer in the pubs. And, in a crazy decision, we decided to visit Bournemouth and its most boring beach we have ever seen. From there, we went to Dover and, by ferry, we went to Ostend, in Belgium.
More than a thousand kilometers, visits and liters of beer...
With little money, our tactic to save on accommodation was to take the longer trips at night, so we slept on the train. We sat in the cabin, facing each other, and pulled out the seats, which almost turned into a bed.
In one of these stories, we went to Munich, Germany. The station was crowded. Many people were resting on the benches and on the floor of the lobby. We, who had been traveling all night, went straight to the Tourist Information to find a hotel. A very grumpy attendant suggested a hotel outside the city. We didn't understand and asked, "Why outside the city?" We wanted a hotel that was more central. And she rudely answered something in German. Of course we didn't understand, but we knew it wasn't good. Our blood boiled and we said a lot of nonsense and curse words, in Portuguese, of course. She managed to get on our nerves. We left there furious. At that moment, a Brazilian who had seen the scene from afar asked what had happened. We explained and he told us that the Oktoberfest would start the next day. That was why there was so much movement at the station. And he suggested a small hotel, very close by, where he himself was staying. We thanked him and, indeed, we were able to get a place to stay for one night. We calmed down, laughed at the situation and took the opportunity to get to know the city.
Early the next day, we returned to the station and left our luggage in the luggage room. Then, we went to see the Oktoberfest parade. The festival was held in a large area, with a huge amusement park and many beer halls. Germans and tourists toasted to the sound of typical regional music. We sat outside, despite the cold, to watch people coming and going. We were almost “baptized” by a drunk who came staggering towards us. He threw up so badly, fell on what he had produced and passed out. Luckily, we anticipated the situation and had time to jump to the other side. He was literally “towed” by the paramedics.
We decided to go into one of those huge beer halls. While we were looking for a place to sit, we saw someone waving. We joined a German man and his mother, three Australian women and another guy from Tenerife. When we told him we were Brazilian, the German man got excited. He had recently visited Brazil. We drank and talked. With each liter of beer, we spoke better English, Portuñol and even German. To this day, we don't know how we talked to the German man's mother, who only spoke German. But the best was saved for last. The scene was hilarious. It was already night and we had to catch a train to Vienna. It was time to say goodbye. The German bought those chocolate hearts for each of us and we ended the night hugging and crying because we would never see each other again. It had to be filmed!
Then we boarded a plane to Vienna. When we arrived, still a bit confused, we laughed a lot about the scene from the previous day. Little by little we remembered our time in Munich. Helinho complained that his arm was hurting. That's when we remembered that the cause was nothing more than an arm wrestling match he got into, as a result of the excitement and the effect of too much beer.
In fact, those who go to Oktoberfest always have stories to tell. We met a Brazilian who was so drunk that he got lost while going to the bathroom. He also lost all his documents and found his way to the hotel. He only managed to get back after the local police called his son in Brazil to ask where his father was staying.