There were four of us, and it was nice to sit outside and eat ice cream and catch up. I sat with my back up against the building and it was hot in the sunshine. The coffee in my ice cream float froze and made crunchy little coffee ice crystals on the vanilla ice cream. Across from me, a bottle blonde sat alone. She wore a glittery t-shirt with Andy Warhol’s Marylin on it in sequins. And she smoked, on cigarette after another, for about an hour. Then, she checked her cell phone, put the red carton of cigarettes into her tiny handbag, and left the cafe.

We had an absolute bluebird day driving around the Salzkammergut — a sort of lake district near the husband’s home turf. We bought gingerbread, stopped for coffee, had lunch lakeside, took the gondola up to about 4500 feet and then, hiked up higher, even, where I took this picture of the Dachstein Glacier. After, we went and ate cake, and then I played the ukulele in the car as we drove back home.

Life is good.

Cruising down the Rhine had not been on my list of Things I Wanted to Do. While certainly you can take me on a road trip anywhere and I will be giddy with joy, I’m squirrelly about boats and I’m not crazy about organized tours.

Also, I have to totally shut up about that now because truly, gliding aross the surface of the Rhine surrounded by vinyards and castles while a waiter with a charming accent appears every 20 minutes or so to make sure you have enough champagne is, well… and if you should be lucky enough to have a breeze that just takes the edge out of the approximately 75 degree day and a chair with a sunshade that you can adjust just so to keep the bright light on out of your eyes… As the ship sailed past, I could see slices of the sky framed by the gothic arches of the skeletal cathedral just left of the chuch spire in the top photo.

It’s probably just as well that I’m not used to this kind of fabulous because were  to become all worldy and fatigued by it I would be one sorry indvidual indeed.

My river cruise was sponsored by Avalon Waterways. It was remarkable. And if you’re curious, I’m shooting a Nikon D200 with a 28-300, that’s the lens I carry for traveling.

We are berthed so the bow of the ship just clears the pedestrian bridge. At 7:00 pm, the bridge is covered in people, shoulder to shoulder, blowing soap bubbles in our direction. The mayor of Frankfurt has called for a flash mob to help send us off in style. Hundreds of rainbows float past us in the evening sky. It is nothing short of magical.

Everything is spotless; this ship has been used once before for an investor sailing, so there is no wear and tear on… anything. The staff is genuinely charming and because the ship is new to them, too, they have some of that “isn’t this fun!” sparkle that they’re sure to lose after they’ve been carrying plates or replacing towels for two weeks, three, four, more. My fellow passengers are atypical — it’s all media and industry wonks and agents, not the 60 plus retirees on holiday that this kind of travel targets. While some of the trip’s demographic  is reflected in the agents, the age curve is dragged towards the younger side by flaks and hacks. The ship is slightly more than half full, there are always empty tables in the dining room, the lounge is quiet, up top it is easy to get an entire ship length away from your fellow travelers. There is champagne in my stateroom. There are L’Occitane products in the bathroom and the beds are comfortable and there is a sliding glass  door that opens wide so the entire room turns into a balcony. I can sit on my bed, drink espresso, and watch the banks of the Rhine slide by.

It’s awesome.

I feel kind of terrible about how transparently for sale I am.

I’m not going to lie. I love it.

I eat too much. I drink too much. I do not sleep enough. I walk a lot and my feet hurt. I am tired so I take not very satisfying naps, but the reason they’re not satisfying has nothing to do with the ship — it’s quiet and  comfortable and the motion is barely perceptable. No, it’s that I am diverted by the landscape, by the coal barges going the other direction, by the vinyards stuck, nearly vertical, to the hillsides, by the church spires and castle towers and even the little campgrounds perched on the banks of the river. I’m hungry between meals, which is absurd because during meals I’ve eaten enough for three. I’m awake too early because I’ve left the curtains open in case I wake in the middle of the night — I want to see the villages on the banks in darkness, too.

I could not afford this trip. It costs approximately 500 USD a day plus airfare. For 500 USD a day, you get all your meals, all your tours (though there are additional options), snacks most of the day, wine with dinner, and your very nicely appointed room. It’s what they call in the industry a “value” trip — you get a lot of bang for your buck. I believe this is accurate — the room alone would likely set you back 300 a night, it’s small but it’s very nice. The only thing I wish for is a bicycle — which can be rented at each docking — and a bit more time at the stops, though they are not rushed, it would be unfair to say that they are. Even while wishing for more time, I spend a fair amount of it on park benches, in beer gardens, in window seats in cafes. There is a tour of a castle, a tour of a mechanical music museum, a walking tour of Cologne with a focus on that city’s Jewish history. I take the tours, not because I have to, but because I’m interested. I miss the one talk — by author Patricia Schultz — because I have fallen asleep while watching the landscape flatten out during the cruise north into Holland.

The trip is lovely. It’s absolutely the kind of thing you should take your mom on, she’d love it. Or blow some cash on yourself because really, that day watching castles appear beyond each successive slope can not be beat. You could honeymoon happily, or you could just have a lazy vacation staring out that sliding door, left wide open to the breeze off the river.

Not only is everything fancier and more luxurious than how I travel on my own, it’s all paid for by the operator. The biggest hit on my pocket is to tip the crew at the end of the trip, and that’s nothing for what I’ve recieved. Pennies. My airfare to and from the ship’s start and finish points is paid for. My sailing is paid for. The gifts and my bar tab are paid for. I don’t know who paid for the soap bubbles handed out to the laughing citizens of Frankfurt on the Holbeinsteg bridge, but it wasn’t me.

You should take anything I say about this trip with a grain of salt.

And also, it was just about perfect.

You got this, I’m quite sure, but my river cruise was sponsored by Avalon. And here’s a link, for reference, to Lonely Island’s profanity filled version of I’m On a Boat.