When I took my first solo trip to Europe in 1973, I must have kept my parents on the edge of their seats.
The day after my high school graduation, I headed to the airport, accompanied only by a good friend, a rucksack, and a youthful sense of adventure. Throughout the months-long trip, the only way of communicating with my folks back home was through postcards, since paying for international calls was beyond my Europe-Through-the-Gutter budget. Still, I managed to send a...
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