This was the trip that started it all.
When I was in my sophomore year of high school, I was invited by my art teacher to go on a trip through the art department to London and various regions of France during our spring break.
It was my first time outside of the US and I was so unbelievably excited. I can vaguely remember sitting in math class the last day before break. It was my last class of the day -- and it was a math class -- so I was counting the minutes until it was over. As soon as the bell rang, I sprung up from my desk, through my book bag over my shoulder, and almost literally ran out of the building.
It was the usual first trip to Europe. From early in the morning to late at night we were on buses and in museums with tour guides explaining the long history of England and France. We were on a tight schedule the entire time. There were various points were we would fall behind and end up rushing through whatever tour or stop we were on in order to make it to the next place on time. I remember, we were given only an hour to explore the Louvre -- just enough time for us to find the important things-- however, most of our time was actually spent almost literally running through the museum looking for a particular artist. Thinking back, I have no idea what we were looking for.
In spite of the fact that we were horribly over scheduled, I loved every minute of it.
When I got back, my only complaint was that I was unable to figure out how to turn on the shower at the first hotel. Then there was the fact that I fell in love all the fancy cheeses we ate while there and I spent a good hour trying to find them in the grocery store at home.
It was the usual first trip abroad, but I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. It was a week that would spark a great love for travel and an interest in other cultures.
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