The Jotter Pages posts are a glimpse into one of my many notebooks.  The italics are the actual writings from my jotter.  The roman type  are my comments today.  This entry takes place on a sleeper train from Paris, France to Florence, Italy on October 5, 1984.

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Rain.  The train arrived today almost 1/2 hour late to Florence.  I am so tired due to having the worst night’s sleep.  I was in a compartment with 3 men on this trip.  Two Frenchmen and  an American.   The cabin had two bench seats facing one another with the window at one end and the doorway to the hall at the other.   At bedtime, people got into their pajamas and waited in line to brush their teeth at the end of the corridor.  I would never think of putting on my pajamas for an overnight train ride.  After last night, I am glad.

Our seats were converted into bunks and I slept in the top.    At some point in the night, the man who slept across the aisle from me reached over and put his hand in my bed.    At first I thought I was dreaming, then I moved and felt warm flesh.  I turned on the cabin light and there he was leering at me.  I could only stare back.  With my heart pounding, I turned the light out and it was not long before he tried again. I quickly jumped out of my bunk while cursing him and trying to turn on the light.  I panicked when the light would not go on so I burst into the hallway and was relieved to find a border policeman approaching.  I told him what was happening and he shook his head not wanting to get involved.   I stepped back into the cabin and woke up the American  in the bunk below me.  I told him what was happening and asked for his help.  He very casually spoke in French to the man in the bunk and then told me that this is just something that happens when a Frenchman sees something beautiful, he wants to touch it. Angry and afraid, I got back into my bunk but didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. I lay as close to the cabin wall as possible to keep the distance between us.  I was scared but thankful I was dressed, as my clothes felt like the only thing on the train protecting me. The next morning the Frenchman didn’t look at me but once and I gave him a death stare.

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I think back to those days of travel and I am amazed.  Back then, there were no cell phones, I didn’t have a credit card or debit card just Travelers Checks.  There was not such thing as cash machines, internet or faxes as far as I knew.  I would be gone for weeks at a time and every now and then I would call or send a Telex to New York and let my family know I was okay.  Rarely was I afraid while traveling by myself.  It was all a wonderful adventure.

Today I have a wallet full of credit cards and a smart phone but sometimes just driving to the gas station scares me.

A dear friend recently commented that she would love to catch a glimpse inside one of my jotters.   I thought this was an interesting idea so I’ve decided to make it a feature here at Jotter Girl.

But how would I choose which book, which page?

Yesterday, I got all 28 books out,  spread them on the floor,  grabbed one and opened to a page.  Not the best plan because here is what you’d get….

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Acayucan April 8, 1973

I hate Sundays because there’s nothing on TV except Zoom.  Once a day.

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I’d need a better plan in selecting something more interesting than what was on television back in the 70′s.  After spending a while flipping pages is several books, I came up with a jotter page to share.  The italics are the actual writings from my jotter.  The  *roman type* are my comments today.

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http://toastmeetsjam.com/bios/hilary-sloan/ October 24, 1984 

Yesterday, Mom and I went to the Vatican Museum.  As with the rest of Rome, it was gripping and tugging at my heart strings.  Later in the day we met Marco at the Villa Borghese where we took photos.  It was fun although these would most likely be our last photos together for a long while.

We are leaving Rome tomorrow and I will miss Marco very much.  Right now, I am listening to one of the two tapes he made for me.  I’m sad because these songs remind me of him.  It was very difficult to say goodbye.  With tears in my eyes, I watched him leave the Pensione Merano through my 3rd floor window.  *note: Marco did not leave through my 3rd floor window.  He took the elevator as he should.* As I looked down upon the Via Veneto, I could see that he too, was crying.  Marco looked up to my window and waved as I blew him a kiss.  I will especially miss him calling me Poppet and darling.

I am sitting on the bed beside my mother.  Our suitcases are in various stages of being packed.  We are taking a break and I am listening to my Walkman.   I was quiet  up until a few moments ago when the sobs burst out of my body and made mom jump a mile.  She ran to the bathroom and brought me back a towel.  What else could she do?  She’s been in Italy for about a week and has gotten to know Marco too.  I think she understands why I have fallen so hard.  I’ve been in Europe for 2 months and don’t want to go home.  I have such a headache and my eyes are stinging like crazy.  How will I manage with out him.

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The story behind this story is that I was someone who loved to be in love.  My mother, who was quite aware of my  ability to fall head over heels, hadn’t planned to come to Italy until she got the call from me telling her I felt like Cinderella and I had found my prince.  I am pretty sure she hung up the phone and booked the next flight to Rome in anticipation that I was going to elope with Marco and never come back to the United States.