by Susan Harris, with Bob Oakes
We hope you enjoy highlights of our 8 months in Europe in 1969! We tell the story with images from our scrapbook, plus our memories of what happened 56 years ago. We highlight the hippie culture we so enjoyed, the generous locals we met, and how world events like the Vietnam War impacted our journey. 
Meg and Susan Harris in 1963
Genesis of the trip
Susan had been extremely lucky as a 14-year-old to tour Europe for six weeks
with her parents and older sister - even in a Volkswagen Beetle, without so much as a roof rack to hold luggage. Susan and her sister Meg are seen here in a classic tourist photo.
So for Susan the travel bug was firmly planted, but with a particular vision in mind - the dream of coming back to Europe with friends, like the young Americans she saw driving around Europe that summer of 1963.
Her scheme to make that happen? Do a junior year abroad after a
summer of travel, all paid for by the parents! The deal was to get college credits abroad for a fraction of what Oberlin College charged at
the time (the then-outrageous sum of about $3,500/year for everything), and be given the savings for travel. And our parents went for it!
How privileged this all sounds is not lost on us.
Bob describes himself as "both fun and serious-minded and totally opposed to the Vietnam War" when he arrived at Oberlin from Connecticut. After becoming a couple in our sophomore year, Susan told Bob all about her travel plans for junior year and because he'd "grown up with a family with the travel bug coursing through their veins, and having a little bit of French," Bob hopped on board.
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| At Tank co-op at Oberlin, from left: Chris Bowers, Bruce Ente, Joe Blitman and us. |
But first, there was the draft to deal with. Because Bob would no longer have a student deferment and deferments for asthma had just ended, he was suddenly 1-A. "You could be drafted if you could breathe and pull the trigger of a gun," says Bob, and after a visit to the N ew Haven draft board, he was deemed "fit to kill."
So when we left for Europe in June of '69, Bob left as a draft resister, with no clear plan to return to the US.
Dancing at JFK before flying British Air to Heathrow
It was June 3, 1969 when Bob's parents and our friend Joe saw us off at JFK Airport and our send-off was memorable and auspicious. Joe and Susan had enjoyed dancing to Broadway musicals in their dorm rooms so when we walked down an airport corridor and saw some young people walking toward us all dancing, they spontaneously joined in. Doing a Broadway shuffle!
ChatGPT' illustrates this event as a scene from "Hair."
Bob's parents saw this event and asked if it was a thing that young people were doing these days. But no, it was the culture, man.
We have two leather-bound scrapbooks of the trip and the very first
items are our one-way tickets from NYC to Heathrow, which cost $255,
equivalent to $2,250 in today's dollars.
(You may be thinking "Wow, so expensive!" Today you can get to London one-way starting at $240 or so, right? But today the
flights are no longer half-full like they were were back in the days of
expensive air travel.)
We start in London, as hitch-hikers
Key: Red - flying. Blue - hitching. Green - driving. Purple - ferry.
Plans? We had none except to end up in Aix-en-Provence, France in late September, where we were enrolled in the Universite d'Aix-en-Provence. That means we had almost four months to go wherever we wanted!
This map of our route illustrates how free of plans we really were, resulting in some doubling back at times to follow recommendations made by other travelers. Pre-internet, we were aided a bit by "Europe on $5 a Day," published in 1957, and "Let's Go: The Student Guide to Europe," published in 1961.
Believe it or not, our plan was to hitchhike around all of Europe, the whole four months! You'll soon see how long that plan lasted.
Trafalgar Square
Changing into bathing suit, with poncho
We met this Welsh guy.
We met this young Welshman in a bar somewhere in Southern England. He laughed when we balked at the warm English beer, but he taught us to order cider (with alcohol) and it was refreshingly cold. We all camped together in a field nearby where he took this photo of us with our backpacks. We got a kick out of his choice to sleep in a tree.
And he invited us to visit him in Wales.
So of course we agreed, and hitched to Newport, Wales and his tiny apartment. We partied with him and some friends before crashing on the floor. We listened to Nina Simone there, the first of many
times we heard her music in flats around Europe. We'd never heard of her!
Crossing the English Channel, with the white cliffs of Dover in the background.
Paris
We'll spare you photos of tourist attractions we saw there - and
everywhere else. But here's Bob meeting the local squirrels
in the Tuileries.
Belgium
Not the most efficient or fun way to travel...
...except when hitchhiking results in fabulous scenes this - in the living room of a wonderful family that picked us up. They were so friendly and kind and enjoyed
the fact that we spoke a little French. When Bob asked "Ou est la
toilette?" they laughed and complimented him.
In this photo the girls obviously loved playing with Bob's hair - and (Susan notes) flirting with him.
Germany
There was only one place we knew we wanted to go - the home of Susan's childhood
pen pal, Angelika Clever, in northwest Germany. Susan's
family visited them in 1963, an event documented in many photos like this one that
includes her parents and sister. (Angelika is lower left in pink.)
The
Clevers owned a small grocery store, and had apparently been cooking for weeks in preparation for their American visitors. Relatives traveled to join them for the event, especially one English-speaking cousin. In other words, they rolled out the red carpet.
So what a shock when, six years later, the two of us dropped in without warning! We found Angelika now engaged (to Lothar Fink), and the family still welcoming toward us,
despite our impertinence. (In our defense, we couldn't know in advance when we'd be there, but still.)
We joined Angelika and Lothar for their regular skittles group, the
point of which seemed to be consumption of beer. And so fun!
Visiting German War Memorial together.
They also took us to a WWII memorial, the same one they'd taken Susan's family to in '63.
Susan's father and Herr Clever marking German-American friendship in '63; Bob and a German friend doing the same in '69.
Netherlands
We took this photo to show the highway name - Martin Luther Kingweg. A sign that he was revered far beyond the U.S.
And in Amsterdam Bob stands at the top of stairs in our hotel, demonstrating the extremely steep staircases that are iconic there.
Denmark
The lovely Tivoli Gardens in Copenhagen.
In Copenhagen we had a great time with these guys, who invited us into their apartment and regaled us with stories, enhanced perhaps by all the beer and some hash. Hashish was common in Europe and offered casually. (Our
people!)
Sweden, and the end of hitch-hiking!
During our hitch-hiking weeks, we slept on beaches and parks, a barn, and in homes of
people who took us in. But the worst was one rainy night we slept UNDER a truck to keep dry, mostly, and planned to wake up before the driver took off in the morning. (Yes, we did some stupid stuff. More coming.)
We never stayed in youth hostels because they wouldn't let males and females room together.
Our "new" car!
On top of all that, we heard from the traveler grapevine that hitch-hiking would get much harder as we went south in Europe, so we took action! In Malvo, Sweden we paid $150 for a 1959 Volvo, which was extremely reliable and changed everything for us. From then on we would pick up other travelers along the road or in cafes or
wherever and invite them to join us if they helped pay for gas.
With the car, at least we had the option on rainy nights of sleeping (very uncomfortably) IN it, which is still far better than under somebody's
truck. With the car we could also get to commercial campgrounds, which seemed like
high luxury to us.
Norway
A postcard showing the route from Oslo to Bergen.
After seeing Stockholm we drove to Oslo and then cross-country to Norway's
second-largest city, Bergen. We kept this postcard to show how treacherous
the highway was.
Over lunch, mimicking the inside cover of the Stones' Beggers Banquet.
With some new travel companions we stopped in a beautiful place for lunch and a
skinny dip. We'll never forget the German fellow seated here because after plunging into frigid waters, his dick was soooo long, we couldn't wait to drop him off so we could all talk about it! (We never claimed to be mature for our age.)
Back in Denmark
In these photos we were staying at a campground in Denmark,
met a nice couple, and decided to all decorate our car with florals and words
like "Truth" and "Liberte," as one does.
Friends we made on a Jutland beach
We discovered the stunning beaches of Denmark's Jutland Peninsula, where there
were more long-hairs who befriended us. There may have been more toking involved, too.
Back to Germany
Travelers we met recommended going to Berlin, a plan our parents weren't told about until we were out
safely. (Susan's mother kept lamenting that we were "Behind the Iron
Curtain!!)
Berlin Wall
Indeed, driving through East Germany to get to Berlin WAS the scariest
encounter with armed soldiers we experienced in our travels. Especially with a
car that screamed "Subversives inside!" But we made it to Berlin, where we saw
the wall and cautiously approached "Checkpoint Charlie" on our way to East Berlin.
Post card images of Checkpoint Charlie, etc.
Postcard image of the Soviet War Memorial in E. Berlin
East Berlin looked like the war had just ended - so many bombed-out buildings. Its tourist sites were of the propaganda type, like this
Soviet war memorial, where we chatted with a young couple who sold souvenirs, including these items. They told us they worked there so they could
talk to Westerners and find out what was really going on in the
world, knowing that sources available to them weren't to be believed. Sadly, they couldn't invite us home to chat more because they were being watched by the authorities.
Souvenirs we bought at that memorial.
Back in West Berlin for the night, we saw coverage of the American moon landing on the TV where we were staying.
And back in West Germany:
We had an overwhelmingly grim visit to Dachau concentration camp. 
Nuremberg town square.
Austria
Stripping down for a wash with traveling companions
Hippies escape with their hair intact
ChatGPT illustrates "Austrian men" wearing their everyday leiderhosen.
One of our favorite tourist attractions in Salzberg was Helbrun Castle, with its fun waterworks.
Hippies determined to get into Hungary
It wasn't an easy time for people who looked like us to visit Hungary, perhaps the most repressive of the Soviet satellites. With our carful of long-hairs and a Volvo tarted up with political messages, we were rejected at two border crossings.
Not giving up yet, we decided to paint over the offensive words on our car - Truth, Peace, Liberte - and try again. So, with objectionable words gone and the guys' hair tucked under their hats, we made it!!
(Why were we SO intent on going to Hungary? It was one of the Soviet satellites we thought would be fascinating to visit, and certainly off the beaten path. That also explains our visits to Berlin and especially Czechoslovakia, which had been recently invaded. But Hungary rejecting us twice just made us stubborn.)
With long hair showing again, we got stares from locals.
Empty streets in downtown Budapest
Budapest was really creepy in 1969, like an abandoned city. We saw almost
no cars, and few people on the streets.
Mocking a sign on a government building. Were we *looking* for trouble?
We did find some kindred spirits, who told us to be careful because
long-hairs in Hungary were rounded up and their hair cut against
their will. Bob remembers one young man in Hungary telling us "We long for freedom."
Czechoslovakia (former)
Prague was nothing like Budapest - beautiful, alive with
people on the streets for the first anniversary of the Soviet invasion,
eager to speak with Westerners about it. And we stayed at a campground outside the city where we met lots of
European travelers.
And how apt that Bob chose Prague, in front of the "Burghers of Calais"
sculpture by Rodin, to burn his draft card.
Back to Austria
Salzberg mines were another favorite of ours.
Yugoslavia (former)
Scenes in Yugoslavia include a burned-out church, old men, and an open-air market where absolutely no English was spoken. Off the beaten path, you might say.
It was a long drive south through Yugoslavia, especially so because Bob was very sick, probably with flu. We managed to find a rural clinic where he was treated by an English-speaking doctor and given medicine. We were thankful and
asked what we owed, only to learn that there was no charge because we were
in a socialist country. Medical treatment, even for Westerners, was
free.
Greece!
Greece was ruled by a right-wing
military junta in 1969, famous for the imprisonment, torture and exile of political opponents, and we weren't surprised to hear that it was refusing entry to some American hippies.
So after driving a long way
through Yugoslavia to get there, we and our fellow travelers were extremely
relieved to finally cross that border. It might have helped that one of our
passengers, a German doctor, happened to speak Greek. He was the perfect
passenger!
On the road to Athens, we slept on this beach. Here's Susan with Rich, a
hitchhiker from Virginia who traveled with us for weeks.
In Athens we paid 50 cents a night to sleep on the roof of a downtown
hotel. Here's Susan with that essential item for travelers - TP.
With Rich at the Parthenon
Back then, Athens wasn't crazy-crowded with tourists like it is today.
Even at the Parthenon, which today requires timed entry passes.
With Rich, Rainer the German doctor, and another traveler we met that
day.
We became big fans of the "poet and sandalmaker of Athens," and bought pairs for each of us. One of his claims to fame was that the Beatles dropped by and he made sandals for all of them!
We got drunk and experienced Greek hospitality
Our carload of travelers enjoying Greek hospitality in a suburb of
Athens. Not sure what kind of pipe Susan is holding.
But as we partied with much drinking and dancing, we got friendly
with a local family, who insisted we drive (by now, drunk) across Athens
to their home so that they could graciously entertain us.
More food, more wine, and somehow room for all four of us to sleep.
Above, you can see us exchanging addresses with them - we felt like
adopted family!
Travel-mates Rainer and Rich on the far left, Susan in the center, with
our new Greek family.
In Matala, Crete, we lived in Roman caves
One of our greatest adventures was thanks to a tip from travelers - to visit Matala,
the fishing village on the south coast of Crete where hippies could live freely in beach-side
caves that once were crypts for Roman soldiers (and had previously
housed lepers).
"Our cave," and Bob making home improvements.
We left our car in Athens and took the ferry to Crete's capital, Heraklion, then a bus to Matala where we met the gang - sorts like us
from all over Europe - and did much hanging out on the beach and in the
nearby bars and restaurants. Very beautiful, peaceful, and chill. (Mostly.)
We were lucky to find an open cave right away, but a larger, better
furnished cave soon opened up and we moved into it. Cave-dwellers took pride in improving their cave and making the interior
comfy and beautiful with rugs, bedding and who-knows-what-all.
(Wish we had a picture of an interior.)
The caves are now preserved as historical sites and off-limits except at a distance. We feel lucky to have been there in '69! Here's a video showing what Matala is like today, with views of some cave interiors.
Hippies from N. America and Europe. Susan with dog.
The view from "our cave."
Everyone in these photos looks peace-loving, right? Mostly they were great but unfortunately, one young Brit became antagonistic toward Bob and (for reasons not entirely clear) started a fight with him! It escalated as he yelled "Yankee Go Home" in front of our cave, then came into our
cave and refused to leave. We failed to get him out and that's when a physical
fight ensued between them. Yikes!
No one was hurt but it was very upsetting! We left the next day
with a little bit of tarnish on paradise, particularly for Bob,
who adhered to a belief in non-violence yet had ended up in a fight.
A lot of happy times were spent at the cafes strewn along the beach.
This one might be the Mermaid Cafe, immortalized by Joni Mitchell.
An aside: how Joni Mitchell made Matala famous
If you're our age, you probably remember the hit song "Carey" on Joni
Mitchell's 1971
"Blue" album. It's about an American she met and lived with (in his cave!) during her visit to Matala from March to May, 1970, about six months after we were there. The lyrics
include:
Buy you a bottle of wine
And we'll laugh and toast to nothing
And smash our empty glasses down
Let's have a round for these freaks and these soldiers
The night is a starry dome
And they're playin' that scratchy rock and roll
Beneath the Matala Moon
And Greek soldiers did visit Matala, and we heard a chilling story about that. Single women living in the caves told us that soldiers would arrive on Sundays, believing the caves were inhabited by Western prostitutes, and resorted to throwing rocks down at them to keep them away.
Susan was sure glad to be there with Bob!
Matala was also featured in "California," another song on the "Blue" album. Click here for the full lyrics.
Our story picks up after Bob's physical altercation with a British hippie, which seemed like a good time to leave town.
We took a bus back to Heraklion, where there are amazing ruins. We have lots of postcards and this ticket to Knossos as keepsakes.
Bob on the ferry with our new Matala friend Arnie, whom he visited at his home in Rhode Island.
In Heraklion we boarded a ferry back to Athens, a 200-mile trip that takes 8-14 hours. We opted for the super-cheap sleep-on-the deck option, where we were told to protect our belongings from the Romani (formerly called gypsies) on board.
Italy
From Athens we took the car-ferry to Brindisi, then drove to Rome.
Susan writing in her journal while Bob passes her a cigarette with his toes. Our Roman holiday!
Capuchin Crypt in Rome
"Bernini's Rivers" in Rome, with Susan
Her screams attracted some attention, her eye got doused with water, and she was no worse for wear (though wearying of travel, after at least three months of it).
We don't have a photo of the big event, of course, but ChatGPT was happy to oblige. The request to include bird poop, however, was against their rules - no poop of any kind! So use your imagination.
Susan, Duomo Cathedral and pigeon.
The souvenir below was a mystery to us when we saw it again - maybe a ticket to some stupid tourist attraction. It was memorialized in our scrapbook as "Italy's biggest hassle."
"Italy's biggest hassle"
The mystery was solved by a friend of Susan's who'd lived in Italy at the time. He recognized it as a coupon to buy gas, and remembered it well - buying gas was difficult to do, requiring several bureaucratic hurdles - especially hard with no knowledge of Italian. (Google the topic today and you'll find out that it's STILL a hassle to buy gas in Italy. Wtf?)
And honestly, we were tired travelers by that time and felt hassled a lot. We were happy to finally be driving to Aix-en-Provence, France, where we planned to rent a room and take some classes for credit back at Oberlin.
On our way to France we were driving through the countryside and - because freaks attract freaks - we found ourselves picnicking with these Americans. The inscription next to this photo is "Debra, Ed and Bob after a smoke."
Town square in Aix-en-Provence, France.
We finally settled in Aix, a beautiful and very old city.
Our room, and friends
First, we posed our "loot" from the trip, including these scrapbooks.
We rented one room in a tiny hotel - a 4th-floor walk-up with a toilet in the hall and a shower in the hotel manager's room.
In this photo there's the International Herald Tribune on the bed, and a Beatles poster on the wall. And really ugly wallpaper.
The worst? The bed and mattress were lumpy and sank in the middle by several inches.
We'll never forget the bidet in our room, which we used for washing dishes. The mes-en-scene here includes a very full trash can and a cigarette in my hand. So classy.
Bob and Nancy doing crossword puzzle.
Nancy Pittman was in our class at Oberlin and after discovering that she was also doing her junior year there, we started hanging out. Crossword puzzles were a daily highlight. (Not a lot of studying got done.)
We also spent a lot of time with Debra and Steve Pepper, New Yorkers living in Southern France for some reason we don't remember. They visited us in our room (note the fancy tablescape in the rear), and they entertained us in the trailer they rented outside of town. When we left Aix they bought our old Volvo, paintings and all.
Our friend Joe visits!
Joe and Susan in our room. Bob and Joe enjoyed a day-trip to Monte-Carlo.
We contacted Joe for this project and he well remembers our little room, calling it "one of the most miserable places to live I’d ever encountered! You had no fresh air or a view. The one window in the room overlooked an interior stairwell. And considering all three of us smoked heavily at the time the air in the room couldn't have been worse. And you had to go down two or three flights of the interior stairwell to get to the toilet. And we must have smoked dope a lot, because, stoned, I remember those stairs being treacherous."
And about our bed: "You pointed out how lumpy and saggy the bed was. I slept on the floor for the 4 or 5 days I visited and not once did I envy the two of you destroying your backs, nightly, on that hammock-like mattress."
Our reaction to Joe's vivid memories is that after the conditions we'd endured while traveling, we weren't all that bothered. Unlike Joni Mitchell, we didn't miss our "clean white linens and fancy French cologne."
Bob's draft status and the tattoo fix
Bob getting his first tattoo from an amateur tattoo artist in Aix.
In Bob's words:
As our time in Europe wore on, I was under a lot of pressure from family and friends to come back home and of course, I was having moments of homesickness. Happily, an unexpected solution appeared.
When I left the U.S., I thought I'd be called up right away because I was now 1-A, but when we left the country I hadn't gotten my “Report for Duty” papers yet. While we were traveling, a letter from the draft board arrived at my parents’ house saying “Report for Further Examination.”
Telegram from Bob's parents telling him he had another appointment - there was hope!
My parents and friends seized the moment. Consulting with a Quaker group about draft resistance methods, they learned that I could get a deferment with a “Fuck the Army” tattoo on the edge of my salute hand. So a friend in Aix tattooed my hand and I flew home to the States for the appointment.
As I arrived at the draft board with my tattoo, they didn't know what to make of me. They looked at the tattoo and said it wasn’t good enough to be permanent. So I drove to Providence, RI and found a tattoo artist, but he balked at my request because tattooing below the wrist is illegal. Thankfully he was able to be bribed with a few joints and he gave me a new, better tattoo. I returned to the draft board, where unfortunately they tested my hand and still denied its quality.
Telegram from a friend in Connecticut telling Bob the tattoo must be plainly visible on the edge of his salute hand.
Then came my final chance. The draft board sent me to a shrink. And finally - yes! I was able to convince them I clearly wasn’t soldier material and they gave me a psychiatric deferment.
My tattoo (admittedly not a great one) is still there today. Back to France I went, deferment in my pocket!
Bob returned with something else pretty terrific - the new album his friends in West Hartford were all talking about - Crosby Still and Nash, which we listened to obsessively. And news of Woodstock, of course.
Susan's parents visit!!
When Susan's parents, Ed and Orpha Harris, flew from Richmond, Virginia to be with us over Christmas and New Year's, we picked them up at the Marsailles airport in our trusty Volvo. They took these shots of us in our room - it looks like we cleaned up a bit for them.
It's still shocking to us that our parents - especially Susan's - let us go to Europe for a year - our plan at the time - hitchhiking the whole way!
To Spain, with parents...
...with parents paying for everything, of course, as they were so used to doing.
Spain at Christmas was truly magical, with lights strewn across major streets in the cities.
With Susan's Dad in front of the Prado Museum in Madrid
At a touristy dinner show in Madrid. We all look so miserable, we're surprised the parents paid for the photo.
In Malaga.
To Morocco, with parents
The Kasbah in Tangier
We can't remember what this fellow was talking to us about - maybe offering to guide us somewhere, or to sell us weed.
Leaving Aix, and School
Though our original plan was to stay two semesters in Aix, we came home after just one because we'd had enough of living in Aix, honestly, and of the school, too. (Our French wasn't nearly good enough. It sure didn't help that all our friends there were American.)
Speaking of school, we needed to come home before our final exams, but no problem! The university administrator simply made up Bs for us for all the courses we took there. What a relief! Without that final passing grade we wouldn't have gotten credit back at Oberlin.
Back in the U.S., we lost touch for decades.
While Susan returned to Oberlin in January of '70, Bob decided to take time off from school, and we broke up a few months later.
The next time we were together was curiously at Bob's first wedding in 1971, which Susan attended with Joe. This was our version of dressing up.
After that we lost touch for 39 years until in 2010 we reconnected through a mutual Oberlin friend on Facebook - Bruce Ente. He provided Susan with Bob's email and current location - in Asheville, NC. Happily, Susan attended a garden-writing event there two years later, when she visited Bob, his wife Ann and their daughters in their home.
Then in 2017 Bob and his fellow protestors stayed with Susan in the DC area for the Women's March.
Note the pussy hats! A friend of Susan's had crocheted them for the protestors from North Carolina. They're posing in Susan's living room.
And the last time we saw each other was for our 51st reunion at Oberlin in 2023, where we (and Ann) shared an airbnb. We posed here with our Aix visitor Joe Blitman, and Bruce Ente, the friend who reconnected us in 2010. Susan's wearing her "Nevertheless she persisted" T-shirt.
Susan lives in Historic Greenbelt, Maryland (a "New Deal Utopia"), and writes about it on the nonprofit site she edits. She also writes for the team blog GardenRant.com that she cofounded in 2006. For pure fun she created this YouTube channel to help people learn to hula hoop using online tutorials, as she did during the pandemic.
Bob and Ann live outside Asheville, NC where they perform regularly with the Pearl Street Band.
Not long ago Susan mentioned her time in Matala to some friends, who excitedly urged her to post photos of it on Facebook. That led to more photo reveals and many suggestions that she tell the whole story. It took a writer friend pleading with her to at least tell HIM the stories so he could publish them to bring her around to the idea. Bob was immediately on board, and we collaborated by email and text.
It's been an extremely fun project! It not only brought back memories but turned a very old romance into a very up-to-date friendship.
Copyright Susan Harris 2025. Contact Susan at: HippiesinEurope@gmail.com.
The next time we were together was curiously at Bob's first wedding in 1971, which Susan attended with Joe. This was our version of dressing up.
In Bob's living room in 2012, when Susan was still wearing lipstick.
After that we lost touch for 39 years until in 2010 we reconnected through a mutual Oberlin friend on Facebook - Bruce Ente. He provided Susan with Bob's email and current location - in Asheville, NC. Happily, Susan attended a garden-writing event there two years later, when she visited Bob, his wife Ann and their daughters in their home.
Here's Bob demonstrating the salute he made at his draft board. After 40+ years, "Fuck the Army" is still legible!
From left: daughter Jade, her friends, and wife Ann.
Then in 2017 Bob and his fellow protestors stayed with Susan in the DC area for the Women's March.
Note the pussy hats! A friend of Susan's had crocheted them for the protestors from North Carolina. They're posing in Susan's living room.
And the last time we saw each other was for our 51st reunion at Oberlin in 2023, where we (and Ann) shared an airbnb. We posed here with our Aix visitor Joe Blitman, and Bruce Ente, the friend who reconnected us in 2010. Susan's wearing her "Nevertheless she persisted" T-shirt.
So where are we now?
Susan at the 2024 Greenbelt Green Man Festival.
Susan lives in Historic Greenbelt, Maryland (a "New Deal Utopia"), and writes about it on the nonprofit site she edits. She also writes for the team blog GardenRant.com that she cofounded in 2006. For pure fun she created this YouTube channel to help people learn to hula hoop using online tutorials, as she did during the pandemic.
Bob and Ann (center, with mandolin and drum) with their band Pearl Street.
Bob and Ann live outside Asheville, NC where they perform regularly with the Pearl Street Band.
About this memoir
Not long ago Susan mentioned her time in Matala to some friends, who excitedly urged her to post photos of it on Facebook. That led to more photo reveals and many suggestions that she tell the whole story. It took a writer friend pleading with her to at least tell HIM the stories so he could publish them to bring her around to the idea. Bob was immediately on board, and we collaborated by email and text.
It's been an extremely fun project! It not only brought back memories but turned a very old romance into a very up-to-date friendship.
Copyright Susan Harris 2025. Contact Susan at: HippiesinEurope@gmail.com.
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