The Romance of Travel

09 Sep 2014
Words Mike O'Connor

The Romance of Travel

It’s the unknown that adds that element of allure to holidays, the thrill of unplanned encounters and of sights hitherto unseen.

There was the first time we visited Venice, sipping coffee at dawn in St Mark’s Square as a lone sweeper worked his way across the cobblestones.

There was that impossibly romantic farmhouse we rented in the Dordogne, set amidst a field of flowers and that hotel room set into the side of a hill on Santorini with views that caused you to just sit and stare.

Then there was the river cruise on the Seine. What no one had bothered to tell us was that every cabin except ours was occupied by the elderly members of an English horticultural society.

On the first morning I made the mistake of going on deck and sitting in a chair. All chairs, it seems, had been invisibly reserved, the chair you sat on when you first boarded becoming ``yours’’ and I had broken this sacred, unwritten law.

``I feel like I’m in a floating retirement village’’ I moaned to my wife as I surrendered by chair to the glares of an elderly passenger clutching a cup of tea in one hand and a blanket in the other.

``I think,’’ I said to my partner, ``that it might be time to abandon ship’’. The next morning I told the purser that my wife had just heard that she had inherited a sheep station and we had to go back to Australia

``Zere are sheep in ze station?’’ he asked. ``Absolutely,’’ I said. ``Thousands of them’’ and with that we bolted down the gangplank hauling our luggage.

We would have made a clean getaway if at this point, the wheel had not fallen off my suitcase.

``Bye’’ I yelled, dragging my suitcase on one wheel and ploughing an impressive furrow up the dirt track to the riverbank, followed all the way by the astonished gaze of the purser.

We followed this experience with a cruise which sailed from Dubai.

Sadly, due to a bout of stupidity, I had failed to ascertain the likely national mix of the other 2000 people on board. It turned out to be 1000 Germans and 998 Italians, the other two people being British.

The Italians, bless them, began yelling at each other at 7am and ceased around midnight while the Germans contented themselves with pushing their fellow diners out of the way to get at the buffet.

They also rose at 4am and placed towels on the sunbeds to reserve them. I amused myself by moving the towels and lying on the beds. This led to some ugly scenes and the temporary suspension of diplomatic relations between Australia and Federal Republic of Germany.

We met the British couple after dinner in one of the ship’s bars and starved off English speaking company, joined them for a drink.

``Do you go to the swimming pool?’’ the husband asked of my partner. ``Yes,’’ she said.

``I bet you wear a bikini. You’d look good in a bikini,’’ he leered.

His wife smiled benignly and appeared not to have heard him while my partner flicked me a quick ``What the ……?’’ glance.

``Will you be going to the pool tomorrow?’’ he asked, drooling slightly. `` And wearing a bikini?’’

``She won’t,’’ I said, ``but I will and I’ll be wearing a bikini. We take turns and it’s my go tomorrow. See you there. Good night.’’

``Was he….?’’ asked my partner, pausing as she searched for an adequate description.

``A very dirty old man,’’ I said. ``So much for our fellow English speakers. Let’s go and yell at the Italians.’’

Culture, of course, and the rich tapestry of civilization are an important element of any trip which brings me to the Cathedral of the Deaf Expletive.

We were in Cartagena in Spain and I was admiring the ornate ceiling of a cathedral when my then partner, now my wife, attempted to attract my attention.

Two factors combined here, one being my less than perfect hearing and the other her short temper.

Frustrated, she raised her voice and said: ``I’m talking to you, you deaf (expletive)!’’

The acoustics in this 1000 year old building were exceptional and her voice echoed through the church, several hundred American tourists turning as one to catch a glimpse of the Deaf Expletive.

``You’ll never get to Heaven now,’’ I said. ``If I ever did,’’ she replied ``it’s not likely I’d find you there.’’

That’s what I love about travel – it’s so culturally enriching.

 

 

 

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