This morning, a memory floated up from a long time ago, one that I had not thought about for many, many years. I went to Switzerland on an summer exchange program when I was 15 or 16 years old. The program I was a part of was called "The Experiment in International Living", and was operated out of Brattleboro, Vermont. We were a group of about 25 kids. The program offered a week or two of pre-travel orientation, with language study, in Vermont, and then we were off to Europe. I didn't go to the orientation program, but rather joined the group at JFK in New York City. Therefore, I never really felt a strong part of that group, because I was the 'new kid'. Also, they were, for the most part, rich kids from New York suburbs or New England, who had travelled before and seemed to know the words to every single Broadway song - not from having sung it around the piano, like I did, but from attending shows on Broadway. I felt like a hick from the farm who was very unsophisticated and scared to even go on a plane.

However, I did make some friends in the group. One of them was Cathy Sheldon. She was beautiful, with dark, curly hair and very bright red lips and shiny eyes. I think her dad was a doctor in Massachusetts. She loved to eat grapefruit, and never went anywhere without some in her bag. She would peel them and eat the segments with great relish. On our way to Switzerland, we stopped over in Milan. We had the day free to explore the city. Cathy took me away from the group and we roamed the city together. She was so confident and had lots of travel tips: if you get lost, just go to the river and you'll probably be in the middle of town. Or climb up a hill and go to the highest steeple or belltower to get an overview. We did just that, because we got lost and found again many times that day. She was a "bad" girl, because she liked to shoplift. She always got away with it. She would be oh so very charming in the shop, talking in broken Italian, and slip some grapefruit into her bag. She had plenty of money, so I think it was for the fun of it. Men in Italy would call out to us, cute teenagers from America, and she would shout out obscenities to them. Her bravado was immense.

I'm not sure why she picked me to be friends with.. perhaps the others had rejected her during the orientation week. We never kept in touch after that summer. I still carry just a little bit of Cathy Sheldon in me, every time I travel. I still love to climb those belltowers.

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