The Gorgeous Rhine
A day on the river, a head in the clouds
As a girl, I always had my head in a book. If I wasn’t floating down the river with Huck and Jim, I was mooning with Guinevere over the king’s bold knights, battling orcs with Frodo and Aragorn, skipping through the wardrobe to say hello to Aslan.
The school library was full of wonders, more than the real, everyday world could possibly hold.
How wrong I was.
Just hold my feet while I lean out the window
When I began to travel, I was the passenger wedged into a window seat, my nose up against the glass, watching the globe spin past. Tropical islands, burning deserts, mountain ranges capped with ice fields, sprawling cities, and vast green forests.
It never gets old. There’s always some new place, some new experience.
It’s not that I haven’t seen the Rhine before. In the Netherlands, it is a wide brown river, docks and cranes and industry before flowing into the cold North Sea. Not the place for a merry ride on a raft.
Higher up, a different river. A fairytale river of pretty villages, castles on crags, legends at every bend.
Only a day trip through the Rhine Gorge, not a longer — and way more expensive — holiday on a luxury river cruiser, but the scenery was the same, and seats by the window equally enthralling.
Anyone for tennis?
They say that this is the ping-pong stretch, as travellers look from one bank to the other to see every castle on every hill, every vineyard on the steep north banks catching the sun, every sweet village, every pleasure boat full of tourists hoisting mugs in salute.
I certainly enjoyed my day. Lunching with the river’s wonders passing before my enchanted eyes, a trip ashore to explore an ancient castle, a mediaeval town with kitschy souvenirs and an underground wine cellar, monuments and outlooks above glorious panoramas.
For scenic splendour, that was a day to tuck away in my book of memories, to be brought out when Melbourne turns grey and rainy and wintry-cold.
And maybe one day I’ll go back, find a friend to share a cabin on one of those cruises, watch the world go past from bed, a glass of something nice ready to hand, and somebody’s kisses thrilling my bare skin.
Who says that fantasy is dead? My dreams may no longer be of princesses and dragons, but occasions equally enticing, every bit as good to while away a blank spot in life’s round.
I say this as shouldn’t
I work in the tourist industry. People dreaming of distant lands put bread on my plate, milk in my coffee, petrol in my car. I sell wishes for a living, and every now and then I wish myself away to some magic place, for all too short a time.
But there are no affiliate links in this story, no adverts to anything commercial, nothing that comes back to me.
Do your dreaming, be your own travel agent, enjoy the travel, and report back.
Being there is great. Sharing the travellers' tales and showing the photographs and enjoying a drink with friends, almost as good. As a philosopher, I tell people that there is no point to living in the past. No joy or love may be found anywhere but the present moment.
Pleasure, certainly. The memories turn golden, and the worries vanish. The highlights remain and the mistakes and horrors that often attend modern travel become amusing stories.
Now pardon me
I have some more dreaming to do. I have another overseas trip coming up, I’m counting down the weeks, and I’m frantically saving my pennies to pay off the balance.
Japan soon. Maybe a few cherry blossoms, certainly an onsen or two, and definitely a trip over that crossing in Shibuya.
Stay tuned. I’ll be taking my camera.
Britni
Another fantasy trip:
Britni Pepper writes for Kindle Direct Publishing. She runs a blog where she reviews erotica, and rambles on about this and that. She may be reached on Twitter and Facebook.
