For those who’ve never heard about it, the romantic road is a 220 mile stretch of highway in Southern Germany, between the towns of Würzburg and Füssen. It was first promoted in the 50’s to reignite the, understandably, decimated tourism industry in Germany, but has since become a vital part of understanding German-ness.
What could possibly be romantic about strapping oneself into a metal box – on wheels, and hurtling down a smoothed the road at 100 mph; in a rented Toyota Yaris?
The leisurely activity of driving is something that is lost on my generation.
I’ve seen it in old movies, but it certainly had never crossed my mind as something you could just do. Excuse me if, somewhere in between career instability, rocketing fuel prices and congestion charging, the thought of driving around ‘for fun’, never crossed my mind.
Unlike our American counterparts, it really isn’t a right of passage, at least for those in London.
I learned something new….
Somewhere in between the grand churches, cobblestone walkways, scenic cafes and eerily blue skies – I found romance.
Think of an old couple, on a bench, feeding the ducks.
They’ve been together for years, but still hold each other tenderly and dearly.
The romance here wasn’t the kind that made grandiose statements, or forced you to surrender to its perfectly constructed existence.
No offence Paris.
The romance here quietly pervaded your thoughts; it was subtle yet constant. I don’t think I even saw one love heart during this entire trip. There was no mascot, no photobooth – screaming to be occupied. It certainly wasn’t the kind of place that needed to beleaguer you with false sentiment.
I may be waffling on a bit, but I think what really made this trip worthwhile was:
the peace, the quiet and the uniformity.
Afterall, the truest love is trusting that he/she will always be there…