Travel Biography - Week 108

1998 Travel Takes on a New Perspective.

In preparation for this week's blog, I unexpectedly came across some old photos of my 1978 trip to the States, narrated in Weeks 17, 18, and 26 of this Biography, featuring New York. This includes a recently found photo of the road blocked with fire engines and red cars after waking up on the first morning after arrival, as narrated in Week 18. As this week's article was written on the eve of the 2024 European Football Final between England and Spain, I believe this was a good time as ever to narrate about the timeslot after the end of the 1997 Round-the-World to why I flew to New York a year later in 1998 - the latter taking Travel to a whole new perspective. To get to the point: in 1998 I flew to New York to fearfully flee the UK.

How come?

It started in the late eighties. Back then, I got acquainted among fellow churchgoers with a radical Englishman I'll call Keith. His biggest regret was that in 1966, he was abroad on holiday with his family when England won the FIFA World Cup against Germany at Wembley Stadium. Later, after joining the Army, he was discharged before his time, possibly due to incompetence. Since then, he carried a chip on his shoulder from these two incidents. As most of his other friends were graduates, this didn't bode well with his self-esteem, and as a non-graduate myself, I was an ideal target to regard as "inferior in nationality."  

By 1990, when the next World Cup tournament was drawing near, I said the natural thing, considering that my bloodline was 100% Italian, even as a British citizen - I said that I preferred to support Italy, my ancestral home. Apparently, he didn't take that too well. He clung even closer to his support of the England team, and his greatest want was to see England knock out Italy during the tournament, and afterwards, bring home the famous trophy. 

John Bull the iconic Englishman.

The British Bulldog

Keith could have been a true-to-life icon of John Bull, an overweight tradesman sitting at the table and devouring ships from a foreign naval fleet, in this case, a Dutch fleet. The photo above was taken from the cover of Jeremy Paxman's book, The English, a Portrait of a People. Lately, John Bull was replaced by the British Bulldog, drawn with exaggerated body strength, a deep, masculine voice, stoic and devoid of emotion except that of anger should a foreigner arise to challenge him. And that was how a sports reporter from The Sun newspaper depicted the England Cricket team when they won against Pakistan during the early nineties.

It was Keith and another friend, Paul, a graduate, who teased me in 1997, just before I flew out to Singapore for the Round-the-World travel adventure. Keith wanted to see me sit in a Singaporean barber shop at Changa Airport, looking sad and morose as I watched my long hair fall to the floor around me. He knew how much having long hair meant to me. Instead, I returned to Britain with my hair having grown longer throughout the ten weeks I was away. By the time the 1998 tournament drew near, I felt apprehensive. Not so much with Italy knocked out as England making it to the Final and winning.

  Fire engines and red cars, 1978 - Week 18.

At New York City, 1978 - Week 18.

The World Trade Center, 1978.

Football - Christian or another Religion?

Only this week, someone at the morning Zoom prayer meeting declared that Britain is a Christian country. I don't disagree. As England took its place in the coming Final against Spain after defeating the Netherlands, the Dutch press labelled The Three Lions as The Miracle Team utilizing lucky last-minute flukes and penalty shootouts. This has brought me back to my friend Keith. It was during the weeks leading up to one of the World Cup tournaments during the nineties that he spent a week on prayer and fasting for an England win. But after 1966, England never lifted the trophy.

Then one Saturday in 2006, I went out to buy a national newspaper, I believe, The Daily Mail. On its front page, the headline blazed, MAYBE THERE IS A GOD AFTER ALL. The headline was referring to England player Wayne Rooney. As a Forward known for his abundant goal-scoring, he was a key player in the England squad, and the nation depended on this star to bring the trophy home. But a few weeks earlier, he injured his foot, disabling him to play at any game, let alone for England. Then the news came. Rooney's foot began to recover faster than what the doctors predicted. Answered prayers from churches around the nation? God had other ideas. Even with Wayne Rooney on the field, England was knocked out by Portugal in the quarter-finals.

Finally, back to the morning Zoom prayer meeting. It was announced that the Sunday evening prayer meeting held at the church would finish extra early so that the participants could arrive home in time for kick-off. Perhaps this prioritising of a football game over intercessory prayer makes me wish that our zeal for the Lord and for each other was greater than the want for national glory in a football game.

Preparing for New York and Boston Massachusetts.

Hence, by the summer of 1998, I felt an inner panic growing as the tournament grew nearer. I had to admit - I was afraid of Keith. Especially after such a wonderful Round-the-World adventure that might have stirred enough envy in him and in others for me to feel vulnerable. But this feeling of anxiety wasn't from any threat of violence. Neither Keith nor I would ever resort to fighting! Rather, I was afraid of his sense of national superiority, his gloating look, backed by relentless teasing, if England was to make it to the finals. By the time I returned, the dust would have settled.

This time, I didn't make the airline booking at Trailfinders, as I did on my previous two trips. Instead, I called at the YHA shop on Southampton Street, off the Strand, in London. This shop, at present no longer in existence, specialised in hostelling equipment, including clothing and kitchen utensils, as well as books on the Great Outdoors. The shop also featured a travel agent where flight bookings could be made as well as national and international hostel reservations. And this time, I wasn't alone, as I usually was. My friend Tim decided to come to London with me, and together we found the shop and entered.

The flight to New York from Heathrow Airport and the return from Boston to London Gatwick was offered by Virgin Airlines, with two different sites each for take-off and landing inflated the price to nearer £300 for a return ticket. I went ahead and purchased it, despite even Tim gasping at the expense. As for the hostel, a bed was reserved for me at the HI AYH New York City, with as many as 624 beds, thus the largest youth hostel in the world. Indeed, I was relieved not to stay at that seedy, bug-ridden hotel on 8th Avenue, like I did in both 1978 and 1995.

As the tournament drew near, so did tensions. As already mentioned a week previously, I was very discreetly but constantly watched by a young female teenager without becoming aware of her. So, this continued since before I took off for Singapore in 1997. However, my mind was on New York and Boston. And also in the 1998 FIFA World Cup, held in France, the host country.

However, as the football tournament progressed, England was knocked out at the Round of 16 by Argentina and didn't even make it to the quarter-finals. Damn it! I hadn't even taken off for New York, the airline tickets were fresh in my hand and still unused, and the Three Lions were already out of the tournament. Had my anxieties over Keith led me to act in vain? Did I still want to fly across the Atlantic to the Big Apple?

For a moment, I did have mixed feelings. There was a moment when I regretted buying those tickets. After all, my heart was set for a second Round-the-World adventure, landing in South Africa, Australia, and yes - California - unless there was a fresh alternative for the third stage. I had wished to keep all funding safe until I bought the airline ticket for Cape Town.

Eventually, I pulled myself together. New York and Boston with its Freedom Trail had much to offer to someone like me who wishes to educate himself further and have fun at the same time, especially with the camera. Then again, little did I know that this would be my last trip across the Atlantic ever. Also, the 9/11 disaster hadn't yet occurred. This catastrophe in 2001 would change Travel completely. It goes to show that I was very fortunate to have this window of opportunity, therefore, it was a wonderful privilege to board the transatlantic airline once again.

Approaching the Statue of Liberty, 1978.

View of Manhattan from the Statue of Liberty, 1978.

At the rooftop of the World Trade Center, 1978.

 World Trade Center, 1978 - Week 26.

The day of departure has finally arrived. This time, my neighbour didn't lift me to the station as he did the day before I took off to Singapore. Neither was there a need to spend the night in London. Since the flight was later in the day, I took a bus directly to Heathrow Airport from Bracknell. I arrived in good time to check-in.

The six-hour daytime flight to J.F. Kennedy Airport was smooth with hardly any turbulence. After landing, queuing up to pass through Passport Control, and claiming my rucksack, I went to the subway (underground railway). From the airport, I took a train to alight at 103rd Street Station - a long, pleasant ride directly to my destination from the airport without needing to change trains. Where 103rd Street intersects with Amsterdam Avenue was the hostel, a huge building. I entered to check in for my bed reservation. 

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Next Week: Life in New York.

To read about my visit to New York in 1978, click here.

To read about my visit to the World Trade Center, click here.