This is the final installment in Wendell Williams’ series about his Eastern European cruise. You can read the earlier stories at streetsensemedia.org. When we last left him, he was escaping “The Sound of Music” in Salzburg on Christmas Eve.
How did I make it to the pickup spot in Salzburg and fall into my friend’s arms? You can chalk it up to only having to walk all downhill throughout the journey, all while battling myself to keep out of my mind the thought, “Wendell, this time may be the time you cut it too close and get left.” But as the saying goes, it’s better to be lucky than talented, or, more fitting in this case, God takes care of fools and babies. Unlike the times when I’m trying to be clever and keep you guessing as to what I mean, you’ll only need one guess as to which category I’d fall in if you’ve read any of our misadventures. As a team, we usually make plans. Then I go off script, and she is the anchor with a steady presence. At times, we flip-flop. But for the most part, she’s the compass, and I follow the bat signal back to her.
As we began the ride back through Bavaria, the excitement of seeing so much gave way to falling asleep, staring out the windows, and watching the Alps fade away as we moved back through the valley towards the Danube and our home on the water.
When we arrived, there was hardly a sound from the group as we made our way down the gangway, swiped our cards, and staggered to our rooms to change for the Christmas Eve dinner program, beginning with a cocktail party with merriment and song before the meal. We were so beat and there were still two days to go before heading back home. With this in mind, we took the time to nap, with the strategy of resting up all we could for the final push through the finish line. That was a great plan, except we forgot to factor in one all-important thing: while we were looking ahead and thinking of Father Christmas’ arrival that night, we had forgotten about Father Time.
When we came to, we rushed to get into Christmas Eve outfits and sped to the dining room. We were way past the halfway point of the meal. But our bodies needed the rest, and we decided to skip the cocktail party later to get even more rest for the early call in the morning.
the tank for one, a long bus ride into the Czech Republic and over the mountains to Prague, two, all the walking we’d be doing around that old city, and three, keeping up with the pace of much younger guides with all my health issues. I was hoping for the best, like all ex-jocks who believe they could will themselves into doing what they used to do for one more game if the coaches called.
The crew had already announced that, due to the early departure for those heading to Prague for Christmas, there’d be an early breakfast. Although we asked for a wake-up, evidently, one of two things happened: either we both overslept, which I doubt, or she was up at the call, saw my condition, and took a dive for my sake. I woke up with this manic energy. Hopped out of bed with my mind racing and thinking oh shit let’s go, go, go, but she simply calmly said, “We’ve missed the bus, let’s just lay back down and hit the brunch.” There was nothing we could do, as the ship believed in being and leaving on time. I was thinking the fix was in. But we had such nice plans for Christmas Day, so now what?
In my experience of being unhoused, I’d mastered how, when life gives you lemons, you learn to make various kinds of lemonade, kind of like how Forrest could run off tens, if not hundreds, of shrimp dishes. It was Christmas Day in Christmas Land, so surely we could turn it into something memorable. After brunch, we heard an announcement go out to those interested in taking a walking tour of Linz. As with all the cities on the Danube we visited, there were open green spaces on both sides of the riverbanks with modern- designed museums, walking trails, modern artworks scattered about, and parks. But I’m thinking you’ve got to be kidding? Walking all afternoon again, seriously? But one look at her face and “we” volunteered for this patchwork group.
Off we went down the ramp. Luckily, we docked right in downtown, which, without the Christmas markets, turned out to be a rather pleasant walk. But the best part about the non- decision decision was that the whole place was deserted, as they still do Christmas the way we used to here, with nothing open, period. We started by moving through a closed, clear glass modern art museum building. No joke, you can walk through and see through it. It’s hard to explain how amazing that encounter was, and again, it was closed.
A main street with trolley tracks separated the core of downtown from the waterfront. It had almost no traffic on it as we trekked to the pedestrian bridge to cross over to buildings and businesses. Because there were no crowds out, to use a nautical term, it was smooth sailing in comparison, using the many breezeways and bridges connecting all the buildings. And later on, after exploring, we found all paths led to the town square that had the look and feel of an old deserted ghost town, only old European. The Christmas market was still up, but locked and shut up as tight as Langley, disappointing us Americans who figured we would get a Christmas Day discount on merchandise. You know, like Easter candy, the day after, in CVS. We did get some false hope, seeing a few vendors closing down, but they steadfastly refused to sell anything at any price. After I tried to start a bidding process to no avail, I found out that in their world, there are absolutely no sales after midnight Christmas Day. So all I brought home were a few refrigerator magnets because, for the most part, every single person selling something spoke German or the signage was in German.
As the group stood in the center of that square, it was like being on a movie set in the 30s, at least until a modern car came by. I did a slow 360 and took it all in, knowing it was the end of the road. A wonderful journey back in time without having to time travel. People along the way seemed to be less geared up, less hyped, not as rushed, and just chilled out. Maybe it was because I couldn’t understand a word of what was being said, but I watched them closely, reading their body language, and I believe that they were generally more content in their interactions with each other. Now, after I learn German, I may revise that assessment.
After a lot of photos, we started our way back on our own by different routes, taking other breezeways and pedestrian bridges through the arts university, and to my surprise, Sigmund Freud University, which I’d never heard of, and assumed would be in Vienna. I even found a pharmacy open and got a few snacks. We hung out looking at shop windows and taking photos of the many Christmas trees displayed as we made our way back to the park on what turned out to be the best walk of the trip. Just me and my sweet friend at our own pace, not racing to catch up or wondering where the others were or losing sight of one another, causing panic. Just two special friends out for a sunny Christmas Day walk through a city unknown to us both, not being rushed to do anything or get anywhere but only to enjoy the moment with each other, and collectively reflect on our past eight-day adventure that I initially intended to say no to.
Back on the boat, the Prague group still hadn’t returned when we started Christmas dinner, which was just great. The atmosphere was electric and very special, with people from all over the world bringing their holiday energy to the experience as carols were sung or played. We were seated with sisters who were native Hawaiians. They were older than us, as many were, but troopers. Lots were in wheelchairs and walkers but no one complained about the schedule and we got to interact with so many different people from many walks of life far away from my lived experience from all over the world which made me extremely grateful for all the support I’ve gotten from my street paper families here and in Cincinnati, where it all started for me with StreetVibes.
We hung around for a while for carols from the crew before retiring early, knowing we still had a monster day ahead after traveling upriver during the night to Passau, Germany, and the long foggy bus ride to the Munich Airport, which like Frankfurt, is an ordeal in itself, for the long flight home.
I know by now it’s summer, but Merry Christmas!
