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Thursday, 20 Oct ’16
A cloudy, grey day this morning – exactly the kind I love. I’m in the Upper Rhine, in the area of Koblenz. It’s chilly enough to irritate my lungs, but apart from that it’s the kind of day I’d love to be outdoors. The Rhine River is not too far from where I’m staying and the first thing I’m doing this morning is taking a cruise along it.
And what a wonderful idea it turned out to be. The cruise was to take me down the river and introduce me to one of the most popular German folklores – the tale of Lorelai (read about it here). The beauty of the place was breathtaking. And autumn was the perfect time to be cruising along the river. From castles adorning the valley to trees blushing pink, an hour was spent simply absorbing all the vivid colours of the season, breathing in the crisp chill of the air and listening to the tale of Lorelai from a local.
Spent an hour after the cruise simply walking along the river, along the highway, along the train tracks (and I have no idea where that track went). Surrounded by summer trees dressing down for winter, vineyards scattered across the landscape, oh the very beauty of the place!
I stopped for lunch at an Auto Grill by the highway. The food was, just like the previous night, an unpleasant affair. My taste buds clearly have no love for German cuisine. That was perhaps the only part of Germany my senses couldn’t seem to appreciate.
A seven hour journey ahead, to the town of Innsbruck in Austria. It’s more of a silent, taking-it-all-in kind of route, of Alps, of scenic landscape, of windmills.
The first bit of Tyrol on Austria is even more beautiful, if that were possible, when compared to the Upper Rhine area I’d left behind just a couple of hours ago. The day was almost setting by that time, so I could only manage a few photographs, but ended up spending forty minutes enjoying a cup of evening coffee at a little rest stop.
I’m spending the night in Innsbruck at a small, family run inn. All the chilliness of the air, has by now, made breathing difficult for me and cold, no matter how much I like it , is a slow torture for my lungs. So I call in an early night, crawl under the sheets and I’m lost to a sleep the moment my head touches the pillow, in a dream filled with the sights of the Alps, I’d been taking in all day.