First time to Europe

My first flight to Europe was a blast. It was kind of like that old song
"Coming in from London
From over the pole
Flying in a big airliner
Chickens flying everywhere around the plane
Could we ever feel much finer?"

The only difference is we were flying the other direction, to the UK not from it. We were passing joints around right in the cabin of the plane. We landed in Scotland because we were diverted from London due to bad weather. I went through customs without a problem and started walking through the airport to go to town and find a place to stay. Two young boys about ten years old ran up to me and said, "Cuuud ee ep ya wid ya udgag..."

I looked at them in bewilderment. I could not understand a thing coming out of their mouths. I told them I spoke English and asked them what they spoke. They laughed and said very slowly "English also" Ah ha. I understood something they said. I came to a cafe in the airport and sat down with these two young boys. I slowly developed an ear for their thick Scottish accent and was able to understand more and more of their speech. We talked for about two hours. They were my first real experience with a foreign language and that language was English. They taught me a lot of local slang and told me they would help me find a place to stay. After our coffee and cokes they took me to their aunt's house and introduced me to her. I ended up staying with her at her house for a while. I was really shocked at how difficult it was for me to understand the people speaking English to me. I got better and better at communicating with people as time went on.

I traveled around Scotland for a short while but I could not take the cold wet weather and overcooked mushy food so I started to head south. I took a couple of weeks going through the United Kingdom before I ended up in London. I was getting the hang of traveling and conversing with the people and seeing the lush green scenery with the stone walls, sheep, cows, food and all of the UK.

In London I stayed at a youth hostel. I met up with some other travelers and made my travel plans after talking with them. I was heading south to Spain and then maybe into Africa. It was nice and sunny and warm in the south and the gray weather in the UK was no fun. I toured around London with my new friends and saw all the usual hot spots for tourists. We spent a lot of time drinking beer in the pubs at night. I was spending a lot of time with a nice Swiss girl I had met at the hostel. We had a blast together and slept together at the hostel. I was still enjoying this sexual revolution. We saw most of the highlights in London and then decided as a group to head south. So we headed to the ferry to cross the English Channel over to Holland and Amsterdam.

The weather was still bad and we were told the crossing on the ferry would be rough. Our solution was to just get drunk so the rough crossing wouldn't bother us. We drank waiting for the ferry to load. We drank on the ferry waiting for it to leave. We got hammered and stoned. Big mistake! The ferry pulled out of the harbor and as soon as we hit the channel it started to rock and roll big time. At first we were laughing and falling down from the tossing and turning we were going through. It did not take long though until we were all sicker than shit and hanging over the rail puking and holding on for dear life. It was nasty. We survived the trip and arrived in Holland but it sure wasn't the fun trip we had talked so much about. We went and found the youth hostel and checked in to sleep off our hangovers.

We were young and recovered quickly. We spent the first day in Amsterdam sitting in cafes trying to get some fluids other than alcohol in our bodies. We smoked pot out in the open all day though. That night we all went to the infamous red light district and watched the girls and women putting on their shows in the windows. We partied in the clubs and just had a blast. After a couple of days of this wandering around during the days and getting hammered every night three of my friends and I bought a small car for $75 bucks that we planned to drive to Spain in. We left the next morning.

The drive though Germany, France and the tiny country of Andora went quickly. We spent a couple of days checking out Paris and the tower then sat at cafes near Notre Dame. One night we drove through the park near the Arch of Triumph to see all the hookers working. That was a crazy night. We all ended up in bed together that night for a little orgy.

We made it to Spain but going over the mountains was a bitch. The snow must have been around thirty feet deep along the side of the roads. It was like driving through a long tunnel. There was no snow falling and the road was mostly dry so we did not have any trouble it was just freaky to drive through such deep snow. We were afraid the high walls of snow might fall on us and bury us alive. It did not take long before we were out of the snow. We were winding down the twisty mountain roads almost at the bottom before disaster hit us. The right rear wheel fell off the car on the winding road while I was driving about sixty miles an hour. Holy shit! The car veered to the right as it dropped down and skidded along on the brake drum instead of the wheel. I managed to stop the car safely but not before the tire that had come off and bounced really high up in the air came down right in the center of the roof of the car and crushed it down on our heads. Glass went flying all over us as it shattered a couple of the windows. When the car stopped moving we all got out of the vehicle happy to be alive and just stood there watching the wheel from our car roll on down the mountain and bouncing up in the air every once in a while. What to do? We decided to walk down the mountain and bring the wheel back then take one nut off of each of the remaining three wheels and drive on after pushing the top of the car back up. That was what we did. It took us a couple of hours to find the wheel and haul it back up to where the car was. On the way back up to the car we were walking with our shirts off because we were sweating profusely due to the effort required to lug the wheel uphill when a policeman stopped and threatened to take us to jail for indecent exposure. What? Two guys can't have their shirts off while working hard? We complied and apologized for our error in judgment and the officer drove off with out offering us any assistance like maybe a ride back up to our car. We put the wheel back on and drove the rest of the way to Madrid without a problem.

I love Spanish food. I love the exotic look of the Spanish light brown skin and dark eyes, but I love the long black hair the most. I was always horny in Spain. Our little group split up in Madrid and I headed over to Valencia alone after a few days in Madrid and the surrounding area. I had heard about an island off the coast called Ibiza that I wanted to go to. I jumped on a ferry boat and headed to the Balearic island of Ibiza that I had heard was a fun spot. I landed on the island and started walking around the small fishing village perched on a steep hillside with a small harbor on the sea. It was a gorgeous view with the whitewashed buildings set off by the dark blue sky and sea surrounding it. There were fishing boats tied up in the harbor and fishermen were repairing their nets on the beach. Looking around town it felt to me like the average age of the town's inhabitants must have been around 85 or 90 years old. I felt a bit out of place and like I must be at the wrong place because this did not look like the fun wild island I had heard about. I found a little bar restaurant overlooking the harbor and I went in for some food and a cold drink. There were about fifteen wrinkled up old men sitting in the bar drinking quietly. They all stared at me when I walked in and struggled to order my meal in my poor broken Spanish. I just sat quietly wondering what me plans were going to be. My food came and it was so delicious. I was in heaven just eating.

Then a girl walked into the place. My heart jumped just like it did in every other male in the bar. She was tall, long flowing blond hair, blue eyes, tanned with a deep dark tan, smiling, dressed in a loose light weight white almost transparent cotton top and little tiny cotton shorts, with a voluptuous body and she was looking and walking right at me. She sat down next to me. All eyes in the place were on her. I offered her some of my calamares fritos and she accepted. We talked for a while and finished off some food. Drinks kept appearing in front of her compliments of all the men in the bar. She told me a bit about the island and offered to let me crash at her place that night. I thought about it long and hard before I jumped at the opportunity so spend a night anywhere near this hottie.

We walked through the village and up the hillside together chatting as we walked. Her place was quite a long haul from the restaurant but we had plenty of time and I would have walked around the world three times following her. We walked out of town and down the little gravel road until we came to a large house that looked totally out of place amid all the Spanish architecture so far. It was a cape cod style house with a fence around it and a guard standing out in front of it. We walked past the guard with a nod and entered the house. She led me up some stairs to a balcony with a view of the setting sun and she went off to get us some wine. I stood there looking out at the countryside. This house must be the highest point on the island. She came back with our wine and we sat down on a mattress covered with pillows that was out on the balcony. In about a half a second we were doing the wild thing.

We got drunk on the wine and then took some acid she had. We were naked and playing around on the mattress when we heard someone else enter the house. There were two guys coming up to the balcony to watch the sun set. She introduced me to them without any attempt to cover up or anything and they pretty much ignored us being naked. I didn't mind. I was drunk, stoned and satisfied. They were the owners of the house. I don't know for sure what the attraction was, but I ended up staying here with her for months. We almost never wore clothing at the house and did the wild thing relentlessly as well as every other conceivable thing naked people could ever think of to do to each other.

We spent the next few months going to the naked beach on the island, going into town to eat drink and party, having orgies at the house with other travelers we met, getting stoned, doing acid and just basically living a life of debauchery. I was having a great time. Without going into the details I was an active warrior in the sexual revolution and I was recruiting fellow soldiers for the battle on a daily basis. This was the Ibiza that I had heard about way back in London. I wanted it to go on forever.