A Year Abroad
In the spring of 1969, my parents took a trip to Europe—just the two of them. They came home completely enchanted. So enchanted, in fact, that by the following year, they rented out our house, packed up the entire family, and took off for a year in England.
We spent the first three months camping our way through Europe in a Volkswagen van. Picture this: 1970, two teenagers, an 11-year-old, and two adults trying to navigate foreign roads, foreign food, and foreign campgrounds. We played a lot of I Spy.
Camping arrangements?
The boys in one two-person tent.
My parents in another.
And me? I slept in the van—a highly underrated perk of being the youngest and the only girl.
I’m still not sure how they pulled it off financially, but I do know that my dad had to return to Alaska a few months before the rest of us to start earning again.
The four of us—my mom, two brothers, and me—came back to the U.S. by ship. When we docked in New York City, my mother had $10 in her pocket. Just enough to survive the day—not enough to tip the longshoreman who unloaded our luggage and our lives onto the concrete. Let’s just say… he wasn’t pleased.
Ruthie in Amsterdam – 1969
Mostar, Yugoslavia (now Bosnia)
Dubrovnik, Yugoslavia (now Croatia)
Ruthie in Murano, Italy
The Family—Camping our way through Europe
Camping
Brandenburg Gate
I had to include one of the infamous train track pics—check out our expressions—priceless!
Camping – the boys in one tent, my parents in the other and me in the van.
Grindelwald, Switzerland
Grindelwald, Switzerland
Jungfraujoch, Switzerland
Neuschwanstein Castle, Bavaria
Florence, Italy
Pisa, Italy
House in Liphook, England
Me in Trafalgar Square, London
Stonehenge, England
Stonehenge, England
From Dad’s Letter:
John:
“In looking back on the year in England, I now realize the amount of work entailed for your mother. At the time, it never occurred to me.”
Simple. Honest. And probably true for a lot of husbands during a yearlong international camping trip with kids.
