It was our first trip to Europe. Folks didn’t want to travel because the war had cast smoke over the Alps. Tickets to Zürich dropped to $338 round trip.

Fear and excitement kept us up through the short night on the plane—so we were ready to get to our hotel. I helped Dad navigate checking us in at the Mövenpick. After all, I had studied six weeks of German.

In the lobby, cigarette smoke curled around Edison bulbs. The smell made me feel like I had arrived.