properties dotted with gingerbread-like houses.
Rebecca gazed dreamily out the window, feeling for the first time since arriving in Europe that she had made a good decision. Just for that moment, she almost could believe that she was on holiday, a glamorous vacati on traversing the heart of Europe .
“Everything is so magnificent here. It’s nothing like Grand Rapids. I guess Strauss was right when he wrote ‘On the Beautiful Blue Danube.’” She breathed, as Luke gave her a quirky smile.
Luke smirked. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but t he Danube River is as brown as swamp mud. Strauss was romanticizing the waters when he composed that piece.”
Rebecca looked disillusioned by this bit of trivia. “You mean to say that the Danube really isn’t blue at all?” Luke shook his head vigorously, as Rebecca pouted. “Brown as swamp mud you say?” She repeated, earning a chuckle from him.
“Brown as swamp mud after a torrential rainstorm.” He added, wickedly amused by the stricken expression on her lovely features. “But don’t worry. You’re not imagining how lovely this land is. Wait until we get to Salzburg. Then you’ll really fall in love.” Luke rested his eyes lingeringly on her and wondered if she perceived his double meaning. If she did, she did not make it known.
Instead, she fell mesmerized beholding the increasingly dramatic views as the train rolled into Salzburg Province. Rushing streams intermingled with narrow gorges carved through limestone rock, as imposing castles perched high on hilltops . Rows of pine trees enshrouded the scenery , breathing a dewy mist into the air and lending an enchanted aura . They passed cathedrals with intricate stained glass windows, and then a monastery with thirteenth century cloisters.
“You see that monastery?” Luke pointed as Rebecca’s eyes followed in fascination. “That leads to a salt mine accessible by underground caverns. It’s a natural phenomenon.”
“ This whole place is amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it. I thought Vienna was beautiful, but it can’t compare to this!” Rebecca marveled.
“No,” Luke smiled, “Vienna is the center of commerce, but Salzburg is the place for culture and nature .”
Rebecca reflected on his words and marveled at how the Alps seemed but a hair’s breath away from this vantage point.
By the time they arrived in Salzburg, Rebecca was famished. Luke took her to the small, family-owned restaurant that served his favorite goulash. They both ate heartily and shared hot apple strudel with raisins and vanilla ice cream for dessert. After their bellies were filled past the brim, they walked through Salzburg to their destination of Mozart’s birthplace.
The Mozarts Geburtshaus was a museum, just opened to the public a generation ago, sitting opposite a medieval gate leading to the bank of the river Salzach. “This is it,” Luke announced, “Nine Getreidegasse . Look up to the third floor. That’s where Mozart was born.”
Rebecca cupped her forehead with one palm, trying to block out the blinding midday sun, and looked to the third floor of the residence. She could not believe that she was walking on the same ground as Mozart once had. Together, Luke and Rebecca went inside, as he assumed the role of tour guide.
“This was the violin Mozart played as a child.” Luke explained, as they looked through the glass at one of the many displays . “And this was his c lavichord. A nd here, his pianoforte.”
Rebecca listened intently, feeling as though she were r eceiving a valuable education. Having been home schooled by her grandmother, she never had the opportunity to enjoy such a tangible learning experience, and it thrilled her. Luke continued along, showing Rebecca the multiple Mozart family portraits that adorned the walls as well as letters written in old-fashioned penmanship.
“I’ve never been anywhere steeped in so much
Rebecca gazed dreamily out the window, feeling for the first time since arriving in Europe that she had made a good decision. Just for that moment, she almost could believe that she was on holiday, a glamorous vacati on traversing the heart of Europe .
“Everything is so magnificent here. It’s nothing like Grand Rapids. I guess Strauss was right when he wrote ‘On the Beautiful Blue Danube.’” She breathed, as Luke gave her a quirky smile.
Luke smirked. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but t he Danube River is as brown as swamp mud. Strauss was romanticizing the waters when he composed that piece.”
Rebecca looked disillusioned by this bit of trivia. “You mean to say that the Danube really isn’t blue at all?” Luke shook his head vigorously, as Rebecca pouted. “Brown as swamp mud you say?” She repeated, earning a chuckle from him.
“Brown as swamp mud after a torrential rainstorm.” He added, wickedly amused by the stricken expression on her lovely features. “But don’t worry. You’re not imagining how lovely this land is. Wait until we get to Salzburg. Then you’ll really fall in love.” Luke rested his eyes lingeringly on her and wondered if she perceived his double meaning. If she did, she did not make it known.
Instead, she fell mesmerized beholding the increasingly dramatic views as the train rolled into Salzburg Province. Rushing streams intermingled with narrow gorges carved through limestone rock, as imposing castles perched high on hilltops . Rows of pine trees enshrouded the scenery , breathing a dewy mist into the air and lending an enchanted aura . They passed cathedrals with intricate stained glass windows, and then a monastery with thirteenth century cloisters.
“You see that monastery?” Luke pointed as Rebecca’s eyes followed in fascination. “That leads to a salt mine accessible by underground caverns. It’s a natural phenomenon.”
“ This whole place is amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it. I thought Vienna was beautiful, but it can’t compare to this!” Rebecca marveled.
“No,” Luke smiled, “Vienna is the center of commerce, but Salzburg is the place for culture and nature .”
Rebecca reflected on his words and marveled at how the Alps seemed but a hair’s breath away from this vantage point.
By the time they arrived in Salzburg, Rebecca was famished. Luke took her to the small, family-owned restaurant that served his favorite goulash. They both ate heartily and shared hot apple strudel with raisins and vanilla ice cream for dessert. After their bellies were filled past the brim, they walked through Salzburg to their destination of Mozart’s birthplace.
The Mozarts Geburtshaus was a museum, just opened to the public a generation ago, sitting opposite a medieval gate leading to the bank of the river Salzach. “This is it,” Luke announced, “Nine Getreidegasse . Look up to the third floor. That’s where Mozart was born.”
Rebecca cupped her forehead with one palm, trying to block out the blinding midday sun, and looked to the third floor of the residence. She could not believe that she was walking on the same ground as Mozart once had. Together, Luke and Rebecca went inside, as he assumed the role of tour guide.
“This was the violin Mozart played as a child.” Luke explained, as they looked through the glass at one of the many displays . “And this was his c lavichord. A nd here, his pianoforte.”
Rebecca listened intently, feeling as though she were r eceiving a valuable education. Having been home schooled by her grandmother, she never had the opportunity to enjoy such a tangible learning experience, and it thrilled her. Luke continued along, showing Rebecca the multiple Mozart family portraits that adorned the walls as well as letters written in old-fashioned penmanship.
“I’ve never been anywhere steeped in so much
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