TRAVELING IN STYLE : PRECIOUS MOMENTS : <i> One of Hollywood’s greats tells of an addiction for touring that is simply incurable. He’s a travel junkie who’s happiest on the road. Any road.</i>

I am 79 years old. Old if I check my birth certificate. Or when I look in the mirror while shaving. But young when I consider that I am still able to work and to travel--and, oh, how I love to travel!

My first trip abroad was in 1938 and my first stop was England. What better place to begin an adventure? Next, Holland--and a delay when I was taken with appendicitis. The doctor in Utrecht talked back and forth to my doctor in Los Angeles and operated later in the day.

After recuperating I went to the south of France, to Cannes and the Grand, a magnificent hotel that’s since been torn down. Earlier, I’d had some exposure to good food and wines but didn’t truly appreciate either because I knew too little about them. As a result, I put myself in the hands of the hotel’s maitre d’--a fellow name of Felix. For the following five weeks I did not order a single meal, leaving this instead to Felix. Likewise, I had the sommelier select the proper wines. Both Felix and the sommelier were patient; they provided me with explanations of each dish and what went with what and why, including the reasons for choosing a particular wine.

That five weeks has been an influencing force on my life ever since. It created the foundation for an ongoing love affair with food and wines that has remained with me to this day.

Years after my experience with Felix and the sommelier I became master of ceremonies for the TV program, “International Showtime,” which necessitated my traveling to Europe and elsewhere in the world four times a year, filming the great circuses and ice shows. Besides allowing me to continue my quest for great food and wine, it was an opportunity to discover destinations that I hold dear to this day. In the process, I developed a love for travel that is simply incurable. I’m addicted--a travel junkie who’s happiest on the road. Any road.

In a society that is as complicated and ever changing and and demanding as ours is today, it becomes absolutely necessary to get away, to get a better grip on where we’re going in an effort to keep one’s sanity and to continue to compete. So for me the always perfect answer is--travel.

This is not a cop-out on my part at all; it is imperative that I escape occasionally. With the whole world available, and with a degree of planning, I can reasonably go almost any place on earth. I am fortunate, I know, and I am grateful for such opportunities. Like others, of course, I have my personal likes and dislikes.

Mine happen to be quite strong which, in my case, is good because I know where I don’t want to go. This isn’t to imply that I’ve been everywhere in the world and have no new areas to consider. Not at all. As a matter of fact, there remain towns and little hideaways in countries I’ve visited many times that I’m still longing to see. Even here at home, much as I’ve moved about, I haven’t even scratched the surface.

My father was born in Italy, in a small village called Montemonaco in the province of Marche. As a result, I have a natural curiosity about Italy. I have traveled extensively through that warm and friendly country, and yet I haven’t begun to discover all of its blessings.

From the standpoint of art alone, I know of no other country with Italy’s immense collection. I suspect it would take me weeks--months perhaps--to digest the treasures of Florence alone. And what of Rome? And Italy’s other marvelous cities?

And then there’s Paris--the most beautiful (yes, and romantic) city I know. I’m addicted to all the charms of France, just as I am to Italy’s. I read Jeane Kirkpatrick’s article in a previous issue of Traveling in Style and I’m a trifle jealous in that she found the one place that completely captivates her. I’m speaking of that gentle and inspiring corner of France, Provence, that attracted not only Van Gogh and Gauguin but, through the centuries, has also been the target of millions of travelers in search of beauty, fine food and wines. My mind turns to Britain and the British themselves. What a totally different philosophy of life they have. And how well it suits their every purpose. I can think of no other city where one can feel so absorbed in a learning atmosphere as in Oxford. Indeed, although I can’t put into words what Oxford does to and for me, I expect to relive the experience again and again one of these days.

My travels have taken me through Scandinavia (to Denmark and Norway and Sweden) and to Belgium and Holland and little Liechtenstein. In a single day I inhaled the beauty of Liechtenstein’s mountains, strolled beside a peaceful river and sensed the security of the people, all with the knowledge of truly being in a principality.

There are nights when I drift off to sleep recalling these and other memories of my travels. There comes to mind Vienna and Salzburg, Budapest and Prague, with all the artistic contributions they are responsible for. Prague, beautiful Prague. I close my eyes and once again I enjoy its magnificent boulevards, its museums and its cathedrals.

This nearly 80-year-old man (I’m speaking of myself) has a love affair going with the South Seas and the Orient as well as Europe. There is no other city in the world to compare with Hong Kong. I ride the Star Ferry among the freighters and sampans; I sense the energy that comes with walking the crowded streets, either on the Hong Kong side or the Kowloon side. I recall the charity of the Hong Kong populace in the early 1960s, during a period when the city grew three- to four-fold because of the influx of refugees streaming in from mainland China. I observed the tremendous deeds of its people--yes, even the coolies--to help their fellow man. I can think of no other city in the world that becomes more fascinating as it grows ever bigger. I stand high on Victoria Peak, looking down on that spectacular bay with its cruise ships and freighters and suddenly, in my mind, I am playing the leading role in a romantic movie. Much as William Holden did in “Love Is A Many-Splendored Thing.”

Bangkok and Singapore have a similar fascination for me. Singapore’s a modern miracle,. How did this come to pass? How did Singapore grow in such an orderly fashion--with so many beautiful hotels so magnificently operated? And yet, one can slip serenely into the past, strolling through the gardens of the Raffles or sizing up the boat people packed aboard sampans tightly crowded in the shadow of a modern skyscraper.

Frequently in my thoughts I drift off to Switzerland, which, I confess, is my favorite country in all the world. Ordinarily, I visit Switzerland twice a year, in springtime and again in the fall. I go then because there are fewer tourists and I am better able to appreciate the incredible beauty and the peace I go in search of--and always find. Why does a person who has never spent one night in his life on a farm find the sound of cowbells totally entrancing and enjoy the smell of cows and cow dung, and walks along country roads just for the heck of it? I know why. I find that elusive prize, peace, in the process. I am alone and I discover the sweetness of contentment. It’s that way when I go through customs at Chiasso. I feel totally at peace, like having lost a heavy burden.

Traveling north, from Chiasso, I drive through the San Bernardino Tunnel, and as I exit it I see nothing but mountains, immense and covered with pure, white snow against a canvas of the bluest sky imaginable, and I find it impossible not to stop and to try to absorb it all in order to keep it fresh in my mind forever. It seems so futile to try to explain this; one can only experience it.

Afterward, I drive on to other villages, stopping anywhere from a day to a week, enjoying the neatness, the orderliness, the self-discipline, the serenity.

The serenity: I can only tell you that I sense it each time I go to Switzerland. And although my years number nearly four score, my most cherished wish is to continue to relive these moments, again and again, on other trips for years to come. My vocabulary is not sufficient, nor are my writing skills sharp enough to truly convey to you the euphoria that is mine in traveling, particularly to Switzerland. I commend you to go so that you, too, will experience the precious moments of which I speak.

Peace.