The Grand Tour: My Mother’s and Mine

In my Mother’s era, when one was of a certain persuasion and Britophilic, one of one’s rites of passage was the “Grand Tour.” I’m certain that most folk now only know of such from films such as the Talented Mr. Ripley and books like Tender is the Night, about that time, but I recall stories of young girls/women taking off what we now call a gap or bridge year with an older relative and a set of Baedekers and “doing” London, Paris and Rome, with an obligatory very long stopover in Florence, which my Mother never called anything other than Firenze. I’ve been to Italy countless times and try to go now twice a year, but I’ve never done the “Grand Tour.” So when I accepted invitations to speak in Geneva and Rome, separated by 10 days during which two friend/colleagues invited me to a dinner in Milan and a research meeting in Bologna, I proposed to Colette that we rent a car and lazily wend our way down the spine of little Italy as they sing in “Kiss Me Kate.” No deal; too much pollution, too many security checks, too much waiting in lines. OK, so I’ll go on my own grand tour. Buy a Eurailpass, tote the old backpack (and computer of course) and put in a couple of books: A Room with a View (for seeing Florence with old/new eyes according to the NYT), Between the Woods and the Water (to get me in the mood according to one of my trustworthy eating pals in Paris) and the Personal Memoirs of US Grant (to remind me of what our wonderful new President is facing). Irony #1: Eurailpasses, those tokens of thrift and flexibility in the 1950’s, are now twice as expensive as simple TGV tickets. Irony #2: Patrick Leigh Fermor’s book has been so heavily recommended by my friend, it’s sold out at WH Smith here and not available in the US. I’m sure this trip will hardly compare to my Mother’s or even my own in the ‘50’s, ‘60’s etc., but it’s become a thrilling look-forward-to. I knew the omens were good when I passed a café in Paris this week on my way from lunch at a forgettable place: it was called the Le Paris-Rome and Sacre Coeur loomed over it and my beloved city. So onward, on the Grand Tour. (I’ll be posting on my blog daily or as often as wifi allows). Blog: John Talbott’s Paris © John Talbott 2008