Backpacking through Europe in 1994

Day 30 • October 6, 1994
Back in Tours, France

Day 30 was the first real gut-check of the entire trip.

After the high of Paris, I returned to Tours only to get some tough news. An unexpected freeze had wiped out a large part of the grape harvest. That meant the seasonal vineyard work I had been counting on — the plan that was supposed to help me earn money to keep traveling — was basically gone.

I remember feeling sick to my stomach. Not just because of the money, but because one of my backup plans had suddenly disappeared. I was already running low on cash, and now I was facing the very real possibility of living off my emergency credit card. For the first time since leaving Nebraska, the weight of what I had done hit me hard. I was thousands of miles from home, with no steady income, and no clear next step.

I spent the evening contemplating my next move in Donald’s Pub, the favorite hangout for Olivier, his girlfriend Rachel and all their friends.

I remember being upset at hearing everyone around me talking in French and not understanding anything. People laughing and not getting their jokes, wondering if they were laughing at me. I barely understood what was on the menu or what I was ordering.

I was also upset that I had never found my Journal after leaving London. I knew I wanted to go get a new one, but after learning I would not be making any money by working in the fields picking grapes, only spending money and going further into credit card debt, the thought of even buying a simple blank notebook had my stomach churning.

I bummed a couple sheets of paper from the bartender at Donald’s Pub, and while slowly sipping a whiskey and Coke to make it last as long as possible, I finally started writing my thoughts down again.

I can tell by the number of times I crossed out words how the alcohol was affecting me that night.

Day 30 / 10-06-94
Tours, France

Question?

Why does a man leave the comfort and security of family, friends, and a home to go to a land where, for all practical purposes, he knows no one, has no way to communicate, and no way to support himself?

Why does a chicken cross the road? To see if can be done??

And at what point does the man know if he has succeeded? Does such a point even exist?

And is the greater task at hand, the more difficult task, to develop a greater understanding and appreciation of the word – or of himself?

“People are strange, when you’re a stranger, faces seem ugly, when you’re alone” – Jim Morrison

A horse walks into a bar, and the bartender asks, “Why the long face?”

Today is the one-month anniversary of my departure, and I’m sitting in Donald’s Pub in Tours, France, with my horse face, asking myself if I’m very, very smart or just plain stupid?

Coming to Europe on a wing and a prayer, with absolutely no itinerary, timeline or clue as to what I was going to do once I arrived may sound rather suicidal, but therein lies the beauty of it all. The sheer fact that there is no plan and that each day will be a spontaneous adventure is extremely thrilling.

I’m a sort of Generation X James Bond. A foreign diplomat with little more than my intelligence and cunning to rely on, and of course my portable CD player, perfecting the art of bumming food, beer and cigarettes off the locals while always keeping one eye open for a place to crash for the night.

And of course there are the women. Just as every great Bond adventure has more than enough beauties, so does mine. But I’m inclined to think that the ones I’ve met are less interested in my smashing good looks (“Beanpole” is an appropriate adjective) and appreciation of martinis (“Just beer me” is my catch phrase) and more stimulated by my accent and the theory that sleeping with ‘the American’ can greatly raise one’s social standing amongst friends.

And granted, while I don’t worry about circular saw blades dropping down on my like James Bond did, I’m sure he didn’t worry about the much more realistic and frequently faced danger of contracting AIDS.

Looking Back from 2026

Day 30 was the first time the adventure really tested me.

The news about the frozen grape harvest hit hard. My plan to earn money picking grapes had just evaporated overnight. I sat at Donald’s Pub feeling broke, frustrated, and increasingly alone. I was running low on cash, I had lost my journal somewhere along the way, and for the first time since leaving Nebraska I seriously wondered if I had made a terrible mistake.

I was in a dark place, questioning everything. Why had I dropped out of college and come all this way? Was I just running away? Would I ever figure my life out?

That night I felt like a failure again.

But looking back now, thirty-two years later, I see that Day 30 was necessary. Those low moments — when the money was running out, when the plan fell apart, when I sat alone in a bar feeling lost — were part of the process. They forced me to keep going even when it was hard. They taught me how to sit with discomfort instead of running from it.

That night in Tours didn’t feel like part of the “epic adventure.” It felt heavy and uncertain. But it was. Every single day — the highs in Paris, the lows in Tours, the quiet moments of doubt — was shaping me. They were teaching me resilience, patience, and the value of keeping my camera with me even when I didn’t feel like using it.

I didn’t know it then, but I was exactly where I needed to be.

And somehow, even on the hardest days, I kept moving forward.

That’s what this whole journey was about.

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