Posted on : By : princed Posted in : Uncategorized

Europe on 5 Dollars a Day

One Saturday morning in Brussels, on my way to the newsstand, I was stepping around a pile of trash on the sidewalk when a discarded book caught my eye.  I reached down and picked up a copy of Arthur Frommer’s famous Europe on 5 Dollars a Day, 1962 Edition.  (When the guide’s last edition was published in 2007, it was Europe on 95 Dollars a Day.)  I took it home, settled in, and took a nostalgic journey through its brittle yellowed pages into the world of international travel decades earlier.  I invite you to step back with me to 1962 in the U.S.:  John F. Kennedy was U.S. President.  A new TV show called “The Beverly Hillbillies” competed for viewers with “Candid Camera” and “Bonanza”.  A singer named Bob Dylan released his first album, and Elvis Presley would have five number one hits in the year.  The top movies were “Spartacus” and “West Side Story”.  The Cuban Missile Crisis erupted that year, and astronaut Alan Shepard became the first American in space with his 15 minute flight.  What was it like in 1962 to travel from the Unites States to Europe?

The guide takes us on a tour of the major European cities, from London, Paris, and Rome, to Stockholm, Amsterdam, Berlin, Athens and Madrid – 17 cities in all, with brief notes on 50 other cities around the continent.  This is a different era, where the nexus of a city-to-city journey is not the “air terminal” but the central train station, and where the new Eurailpass (180.00 for 3 months unlimited first class rail travel) is referred to as a “gimmick” the traveler may want to consider.  This is a time when a traveller to Europe still has to decide between travelling by air or sea (almost identical in price – air gets the nod), and where all airlines are completing the transition from propeller-driven to jet planes for transatlantic flights.

In 1962 a taxi ride across Rome costs 80 cents.  London is a great bargain destination where a three-course meal can be had for 79 cents, the most expensive live theatre ticket goes for 2.80, and a ride on the central London Underground costs 3 cents.  Hotels around and even in European train stations are safe and clean, and the chapter on Amsterdam mentions neither the Red Light District nor marijuana coffee shops.  There are budget hotels in London that serve breakfast in bed to honeymooners, have cold beer stocked in the communal fridge, provide free babysitting till 11pm, and sponsor weekend dances.  Copenhagen citizens often patriotically offer their homes to tourists in the few peak summer vacation weeks – in fact (or so the guide claims) recently the Prime Minister of Denmark opened his home to an American tourist family in need of a place to stay the night.

All airlines in this pre-deregulation period charge exactly the same fares, which are quite steep in 1962 dollars.  European flights depart from only two cities – New York and Los Angeles.  The roundtrip economy fare from New York to Paris is 526.40.  (Keep in mind that the US median income in 1962 was $500 per month.) From LA it is 805.40.  There is a special provision, however, called “extra city fares”, whereby the traveller could stop over at other cities on the way for the same fare.  In fact a traveller from New York’s Idlewild Air Terminal (now JFK) to Rome could stop over free in up to 19 European cities, including London, Paris, Brussels, Geneva, Milan, Frankfurt, and Copenhagen!   And are you a little strapped for cash?  No problem – the airlines offer an installment plan where, with decent credit, you can fill out a form, offer a couple of references, and then, with a 10% deposit, pay off the balance in up to 24 monthly payments.

So, what are some of the guide’s “Rules of the Game” for savvy 1962 travelers?

1.  Do not spend more than 5 dollars a day per person on lodging and meals.  That breaks down to 2.50 for a double room and 2.50 for three meals (per person).  Many hotels are recommended with the disclaimer that doubles are too expensive at 3.00-3.50 but may be worth the budget-busting splurge. 

2.  Never get a room with a private bath.  This is silly, because “few Europeans regard a bath or shower as a daily necessity”, and, besides, since rooms with baths are a rarity, they are triple the cost.

3.  Eat breakfast outside your hotel.  The huge breakfast of eggs, bacon, and all-the-trimmings to which most Americans are accustomed will cost a fortune in the hotel (up to 1.00, double the daily budget for breakfast).  In Paris, for instance, you can have coffee and croissants in a café for 25 cents.  If you can’t live without a big breakfast, order 2-3 continental breakfasts, Frommer advises.

4.  Always ask to see the room before renting.  Let them know that you are

willing to keep looking, because, after all, there is no need for advance reservations in most cities, even in busy summer months.  But remember, there is no reason to become an “unreasonable horse trader” in these dealings.

5.  Eat only in restaurants that display their menu in the window, and go for the prix fixe meal.  Be watchful about hidden charges.  (An extra 25 cents can wreck your meal budget.)

6. Be creative.  You can while away a whole day sitting at a sidewalk café for the price of a cup of coffee or at a bar “nursing a single drink for hours on end”, because no European waiter would dare ask someone to leave.  And why pay the 1.50 entrance fee to the Sound and Light Show at Rome’s Campidoglio when the resourceful tourist can see it for free from the hill behind?   

7. Eat three huge meals per day.  The word “huge” is used often in conjunction with meals.  The guide favors places that serve “mountains” of food, which attract “a serious heavy eating crowd”, and where, as in Nice’s restaurants, you need to “loosen your belt, take a deep breath, and pitch in.”

Europe on 5 Dollars a Day is awash in hyperbole and romance.  This is a world where prices are “too good to be true” or “so low as to make you blink”.  “You’ll be thrilled to the marrow” by Berlin and receive “the thrill that comes only once in a lifetime” when you see the Parthenon in Athens.  “Renoir alone could capture the pastel hues” of a particular “breathtakingly beautiful” Copenhagen restaurant.  Every city is cross-referenced to a movie or novel.  Every American’s view of Rome is based upon “La Dolce Vita”, and, we are told, one can almost envision Don Quixote and Sancho Panza  riding across the plains of Spain near Madrid.  There are streets that look “like a set out of ‘Othello’ or “The Student Prince’”.  Stockholm is even likened to Camelot.  One gets the sense that life definitely imitates art in Europe.

The guide is definitely written from an unenlightened “1962 male” perspective.  The chapter on Stockholm contains a whole section on ”Girl Watching”, where one discovers that “the girls of Sweden are that nation’s chief export, best tourist attraction, and most highly developed achievement.”  There are times in Stockholm, he notes, “when you’ll simply stand with mouth agape, drinking in the view.”  Frommer, who refers often to his wife and travel partner Hope (who also writes a chapter in the book), seems to enjoy his girl watching.  In Paris, one can schedule an afternoon watching “the babes with a little less on” at the Piscene Deligne (20 cents to watch).  (Obviously Hope is off shopping.)

In some ways the guide seems ahead of its times, urging readers to learn some of the local languages and espousing an egalitarian world view, where one adventurously plunges into the cities of Europe to rub shoulders with its citizens and to experience the cultures up close and personal. One travels to Europe to see Europe and Europeans, not other Americans, the introduction states. But then there are all those references to popular culture and the stereotypical images of Europe that dot the pages.  In this version of Europe, you might expect to see Dutch people clomping down the streets of Holland in wooden shoes or Germans on the way to the office wearing liederhosen.   One curious reference in the chapter on Paris states that Paris’ low prices allow “even a low salaried Frenchman to live in a most enjoyable French manner”.

To be fair, the guide’s world view and perspectives have changed with the times.  (So have mine – of course I was 12 in 1962.)  What hasn’t changed is the basic premise that travel doesn’t have to cost a fortune to be fun.  The “dollars a day” guides, first published in 1957, paved the way for the numerous budget travel guides that are so common today.  And Mr. Frommer is our paternalistic friend and guide.  Of a particular hotel, he advises, “The price is __.  Write me if they charge you a single shilling more.”  (emphasis Arthur’s)

There is a helpful chapter on packing, penned by wife Hope.  The Frommer packing philosophy is summed up in the statement, “A light suitcase means freedom.”  You buy the lightest suitcase possible, and then you pack it with “the skimpiest set of clothing your courage will allow”, and then you should remove half of what you’ve packed.  Mrs. Frommer has streamlined the European vacation packing list to the bare minimum, which for the traveling woman consists of:

4 pairs of nylon panties

6-8 pairs of nylon stockings

2 petticoats (nylon)

2 bras (nylon)

1 Cardigan sweater

I pair of sandals

1 pair of good sturdy walking shoes

1 pair of dressy high heels

1 bathing suit and bathing cap

1 wool or cotton knit daytime dress

1 Wash ‘n Wear cotton daytime dress

1 Wash ‘n Wear cotton travelling suit

1 Wash ‘n Wear cotton blouse

1 wool or cotton knit dressy dress or suit

1 pair of nylon pajamas

1 cotton robe

Jewelry, scarves, and accessories for each of the above outfits

1 all-purpose travel coat

1 giant-size purse

Miscellaneous items – makeup, cold cream, etc.

Your “traveling to Europe” outfit – (“You can afford to wistful about this.”)

And no need to pack such things as water purifying tablets and pharmaceuticals, we are informed – “You’ll soon discover that Europe is civilized”, and these are readily available.

Well, back to the 21st century.  In many ways, 1962 was a simpler – and cheaper – time to travel. Cheryl and I sometimes visit Paris from Brussels, and we stay at the Hotel du Mont Blanc in the Latin Quartier.  Like true Frommer devotees, we typically stay at a 2-star hotel in a central location.  Our philosophy is that, for a quick trip, a hotel is just a bed in which to crash after a long day of exploring.  Cheryl, however, draws her line in the sand over the private bath issue (and the girl watching thing at the Piscine Deligne).

The 1962 guide cautions that our Hotel du Mont Blanc is at the high end of the range at $3.50 for a double.  It is now around 150.00 but still a bargain for Paris.  We recently walked the neighborhood looking for the Grand Restaurant Saint Michel, where, in 1962, a three course meal with bread and wine would have run us 80 cents apiece.  It was not to be found, and we were exhausted, so we settled for the U.S. burger chain in the same vicinity, where our hamburger combo meals for about 15.00 for two, was two courses, if you count the lettuce as a salad.  With an ice cream cone we would have had the third course, but that would have put us way over our budget for the day. 

Posted on : By : princed Posted in : Uncategorized

Matadors 6, Bulls 0

I had never envisioned myself going to a bullfight, having always pictured these events as both boring and cruel.  But son Brian and his friend Lloyd had it high on their agenda during our recent visit to Barcelona, so on a hot Sunday afternoon we took the metro to the Plaza de Toros Monumental and joined the jostling throng at the ticket windows for this unique experience.

I need to say at the outset that I would no more attempt to explain the significance or intricacies of this deeply cultural tradition than I would expect a Spaniard to understand Friday night high school football in Texas.  All I can do is describe what I experienced as a novice spectator that evening. 

(In places I will include excerpts from the evening’s printed program, in italics, in the verbatim English translation.)

We purchased our tickets for Sección 11, Fila 2, seats 10-13 (translated “Nosebleed Section”).  Bullfight tickets are divided into three price categories: Sombra (“Shade”, most expensive), Sol (“Sun”, least expensive), and Sol y Sombra (mixed).   Our seats (Sol) were rough concrete benches cushioned only by multiple layers of bird droppings.  The bullring built in 1914 with a Moorish-influenced architecture featuring impressive domed turrets, seated just under 20,000.  The ambience was spoiled only by the billboard advertising the movie “Pearl Harbor” and the exorbitant price for a cup of cervesa. 

The ring itself was a large circle of sand, wetted down and dragged by the ground crew for the 6:30 pm opening.  Bullfights, by the way, are typically held on Sundays, holidays, and special festivals.  A friend from Spain told me that although punctuality is not a particularly strong value in Spain, the bullfight is an exception, always starting promptly on time.  The program states:

“The bullfight always begins with astonishing punctuality. Otherwise,it would be very difficult to reach your seat until the first bull is killed, missing thus a nice part of the performance.”

A Spanish colleague opined that we would not see particularly good bullfighters or bulls.  This evening’s crowd was heavy on tourists, with camera flashes illuminating numerous posed photographs and a lot of U.S.-accented conversations. (“This is gonna be SO cool!”)  But every sport has its regulars, its hard core fans, and they were in evidence as well.  A middle-aged couple sitting on the front row of the balcony in front of us was equipped with all the fan paraphernalia – binoculars, bandanas to sit on (bird poop, remember?), programs, and the obligatory white handkerchiefs to signal their votes on crucial issues (more later).

Tonight’s event was a corrida de rejones, a form of bullfighting done on horseback.  As with all bullfights, three matadors (here called rejoneadors) would fight two bulls apiece.  Here is a rundown of the cast of characters:

Human

There is a complex hierarchy of players, from the areneros who tidy up the various “messes” after each bull, to the men on foot who served in this format much like rodeo clowns, testing and distracting the bull in preparation for the main matador on horseback.  The Top Dog of the event is the President, who sits in a box seat above the action like a Roman emperor and who has the final evaluation on how well each bullfight goes.

Similar to any sport, bullfighting has its levels of stars: The bullfighting world has its superstars – their LeBron Jameses and Lionel Messis.  A poster trumpeted an impending appearance of Enrico Ponce (El Juli”) of Cordoba.  This handsome young man has already faced 200 bulls as a matador, and he is only 18 years old.  He has a huge following all over Spain.  Tonight’s slate in Barcelona, however, promised less-stellar talent.

Non-Human

The real stars of Rejoneo are the horses.  They are magnificent creatures that prance, strut, and practically moonwalk.  Under the total control of the rejoneador, they gallop straight at a charging bull and at the last second fake right, then go left in a manner worthy of the best running back.  Their flanks are often only inches from the bull’s sharp horns.  And the bull’s horns are very sharp.  And filing down a bull’s horns is a serious deal in Spain:

“…the authorities check the horns of the death bulls in order to verify if they have been filed for this is forbidden by law. If any doubt arises, the man proceeds to seal them and send them up to the Central Bureau if police.”

The other non-human principal is, of course, the bull.  These animals are bred from pure bloodlines and are trained for years for their 15 minutes in the ring.  I learned that if a bull or several bulls from the same mother prove to be not fierce enough, the mother may be killed to stop the propagation of these “inferior” genes.  (Ironic that a mother is criticized because her sons are not bad enough…)  Oh, and by the way, if you were wondering, the bulls really do lower their heads and paw the ground before charging.

The ritual starts with a brass band playing a fanfare as all of the participants march into the ring in strict hierarchical order.  There is much posing and strutting and machismo, as the crowd cheers wildly.  The lavish costumes add to the pomp.  (Matadors’ handmade suits take 6 people a month to make and cost in the thousands.)

The bullfight is much more than a spectator sport – The audience participates fully.  Like at a wrestling match, they clap, cheer, jeer, and boo (by whistling) both the matadors and the bulls.  At the end of each fight (6 times an evening) they signal a positive performance by waving their white handkerchiefs and cheering.  A matador who performs well may get a white handkerchief wave from the President and be rewarded the vanquished bull’s ear, or both ears, and may take a victory lap around the ring, where approving fans shower him with objects:

 “The custom is to throw him hats, flowers, cigars, and the most incredible objects. Except flowers and cigars, everything is, of course returned to the owners.”      

And even the bull may receive kudos, albeit posthumously:

“When the bull showed courage and fair temper in the fight, its dead carcass is slowly dragged around the ring while the people applaud the animal.”

The bullfight itself is a bloody event.  After all, the whole point is that the bull is killed in a 10-15 minute ritual. (El matador – literally “the killer”.) Yes, the humans are at risk (many are killed or maimed), and they are skilled artisans of their craft, but that doesn’t mitigate the fact that the bull is stabbed repeatedly by daggers and swords until it dies.  The blood flow starts immediately, and the outmatched bull gets progressively weaker until it goes down to its knees and is dispatched with a dagger blow to the base of the skull.  We’re not talking about a level playing field here.

Well, I guess I have gone beyond describing, so what is my reaction and judgment?  Is it possible to be fascinated and caught up in the pageantry and spectacle and be sickened at the same time?  Yes, and I was both.  I am against animal cruelty of course, and this fits that bill. But my judgment on bullfighting overall?  I choose to suspend dogmatic judgment on the grounds of insufficient cultural understanding.  Who am I to make an authoritative statement on a practice that has been around for many centuries and is rooted in this (and other) cultures?  It’s more valuable to ask people from Spain. And reports are that Spaniards are increasingly divided over the sport.  A growing number of the population question the artistic reasons to take the bull’s life in the name of culture. What was once Spain’s greatest spectacle seems to be going out of fashion.

The annual rate of attendance at bullfights has declined over the years, especially among young Spaniards. In 2018 the number of bullfighting events held in the country fell to a historic minimum of 1,500, down from 2,400 just seven years before.

In 2013, the Spanish Congress passed a law to regulate bullfighting as “cultural heritage”. The law’s preamble establishes the cultural character of bullfighting as “indisputable”: “Bullfighting is an artistic manifestation in which deep human values such as intelligence, bravery, aesthetics or solidarity are highlighted.”

What can I learn from this?  Such a cultural dilemma is a good test of a person’s cultural awareness and tolerance.  How do I react when a culture’s values clash with mine?  Can I reject certain aspects of that culture and still remain tolerant?  As one seeking to be more culturally aware and effective at relating to others, I do not necessarily have to agree with every cultural value or norm, but I still must work hard to understand more fully and to attempt to see things from others’ perspectives.  I can arrive at the point of saying, “I don’t agree with it, but I can understand why he or they might behave/think/feel that way.”  And that is a lifelong learning process. 

This experience has motivated me to continue learning about bullfighting and the multiple complex cultures of Spain .

 Now, if we could just do something about those cervesa prices.

[Author’s Note: This story was written in 2001. The Catalunya parliament voted to ban bullfighting in 2010, and the last bullfight was held in 2011.  The Constitutional Court of Spain overturned that ban in 2016, a decision that simultaneously outraged separatists in the region and animal activists. The court ruled that lawmakers from the region could not prohibit a practice that the justices said was enshrined in the cultural patrimony of the Spanish state. At this time, I believe that no bullfights are held in the region.]