How can I explain a place in order to do it justice in your imagination? How? Instead of explaining perhaps I will share a story with you because in truth you can walk so sweetly through the streets of Regensburg that all your cares and worries suddenly evaporate and instead you find yourself floating carelessly through the narrow alleyways lined with nooks and crannies, shops of all varieties and the unique scent of Bougainvillea’s creeping up the stonewalls that you begin to simply wonder, “Shall I get an Ice cream?” This, I believe, is what is worth telling and is what travelling is all about.
Regensburg, a city in Bavaria, Germany has one of the most beautiful trees I have ever had the privilege of seeing. It was laced with tiny, white and fluffy flowers that simultaneously danced around the tree every time it was struck by the rustling summer wind. These flowers never seemed to reach the ground and the tree never looked thinner or gaunter once the flowers had flown into the air, never to return. The grass was superably green, tinged with burnt sunlit tips and sparkled in the sunshine as University students sprawled themselves across the lawns, talking, laughing and enjoying the Summer air.
Patches of four leaf clovers were scattered around the underpass of the bridge as the grass stretched out all around and the river flowed slowly and beautifully passed. It barely made a sound as the tourists stood on the bridge snapping photos of passing boats with the glistening water that lapped upwards towards their lenses. Then there was a boy. So quiet and hidden under the entanglement of the tree, reading with his legs sprawled in front of him as he used the trunk for support. He was so immersed in what he was reading he couldn’t see the floating summer snow of flowers that cascaded onto his hair, his face, and the tip of his nose. Was he German or someone familiar with the magic of his surroundings that he had lost interest? But how could you possibly? The thought seemed incredulous, to somehow forget that all around you was another world, one I surely had never seen before and never wanted my eyes to be blind to.
I walked over to the edge of the tree, my feet barely making a sound. My hair was in a long braid resting lightly on my right shoulder almost covered entirely in sweat, heat and white summer snow. I wore a light blue cotton dress, plain and perfect and carried my white backpack slung over my arm. I sat with my feet dangling into the canal, glistening against the sunlight every time they came up for air, instantly cooling down my temperature and encasing my heart in supreme happiness.
At the end of the day, in a city like Regensburg, moments like this is all you need to justify the meaning of life, it’s the transcendence of an endless summer, and its what travelling is all about. The city is like an infinite poem of Germanic tradition, stone bridges, flowing wine, jazz festivals and hidden secrets. The best way I can enable you to imagine Regensburg without having been there is this; stick out your arms to the side, find a point in the sky and spin and spin and spin. You might feel dizzy once you stop but that my friend is what love is. That is Regensburg.
