One of the joys of traveling abroad these days is being able to convince yourself that you are more or less beyond the reach of Trumpism. Or at least that’s what I had been thinking over the past couple of months as Bonnie and I settled in Spain, France and now Italy. Of course, I wear my Trump button with his name crossed out and daily get high-fives from Europeans as a consequence. Also, some times we get a table in a restaurant that is “full up.” And I see bits and pieces of the news. Still, I feel quite removed from the U.S. and Trump and what he represents.
But yesterday day Trump’s ignorant and evil little hands reached across thousands of miles and touched me at a surprising moment. I was riding down in the funicular from the mountain top where the Italian town of Montecatini is located. One of my friends and house guests, Sadie Jones, the English novelist, was standing beside me as we both road open-air at the front of the funicular. Standing next to us were two elderly Norwegian couples. The husband of one couple remarked favorably on my anti-Trump button. And we started talking; talking as well as we could given their limited English and our complete lack of Norwegian. The man wanted us to know that he and his friends riding on that funicular had recently been denied entry into the United States. “Why,” I asked, completely surprised. “Because recently we two couples had taken a cruise and it called at an Iranian port.”
Well, I said how sorry I was, apologized for the hateful idiocy of U.S. governance these days, and the Norwegians couldn’t have been more forgiving, again thanking me for my button and assurances that most Americans would be disgusted to learn of their denial of entry into the United States.
It really is a small world. And this sad incident served to remind me how easily one man, with far, far more power than he or any one individual should have, and possessed of evil intent, can negatively impact the lives of innocent people who should be free of his reach. Hell, we should all be free of his reach!
Love,
Jim
Ride the funicular with us!
I am of two minds reading this:
1) Who would wanna come to the States these days anyway!!?? All our previous amazing cities (NY, SF, Chicago) have been taken over by chains, literally squeezing the life out of them.
2) More importantly: this interchange proves folks like you will connect, are MEANT to connect! And if we need this weirdo prez to jumpstart our coagulation, then so it shall be.
3) Oops, one more thing: who directed this moving picture???!!! You DO realize it was cut BEFORE the trains collide and there is gore and mayhem and guts and blood and screaming and everything else that I need to SELL THIS INTERNATIONALLY!!?? As such, this won’t even be accepted into The Sherman Oaks International Film & Bagel Festival!
In 1990 I was returning from Poland through Gatwick airport outside of London. Running late, I raced through the airport and slid to a halt at the check-in. The AA employee examined my passport and asked me to step aside saying “We have a few questions for you.” My flight was preparing to close the doors when two beefy security men descended upon me as I nervously smoked a cigarette. They poured over my passport, pausing to read the Syrian tourist Visa I had obtained for a future trip, and asked me questions like “What did you do in Poland? [Giving a lecture to psychiatrists et al re domestic violence] Do you mind if your luggage goes on a different flight?” [what? well, that would be inconvenient. Will you pay to have it delivered?] At the very last second, as I smashed out the cigarette, they let me proceed. Back then it wasn’t Syria that caught their eye, it was the recently communist Poland. Now it’s a cruise ship stop. Do you feel safer?? More importantly, were you feeling unsafe to begin with? Don’t worry the orange bottom-feeder is on the job. Woe is me.
Istanbul airport was more welcoming to us than Los Angeles. Thankfully, no photos of orange man, and his sidekick, the white haired cardboard cutout were present. That was the main gift of arriving back in L.A.
Loved sharing time with you in Pistoia! It was balm for the soul.