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<blockquote data-quote="BillB" data-source="post: 1213220" data-attributes="member: 9985"><p>We cruised all night and during breakfast the ship moored in Dürnstein in Austria. What a beautiful spot this was, sitting on the Danube, surrounded by mountains. The day was clear, the sunlight dazzling on the small clouds that drifted above us occasionally and sparkling on the waters of the river. Vineyards climbed the slopes on both sides of the river in each direction. Their history goes back as far as Roman times when the Romans were the first to bring vines to more northern regions of Europe. There were apricot orchards spread along the river - I was told there are 160,000 trees.</p><p></p><p>Above us, on a mountain peak, were the spectacular remains of Dürnstein Castle, the very castle where King Richard the Lionheart was held hostage by Duke Leopold of Austria after they fell out during the 3rd Crusade. The castle didn’t look as if it was visitable as I couldn’t see any roads leading up to it, and walking up would have been a horrendous climb.</p><p></p><p>As it was, our group walked along the riverside until we came to a minibus that was waiting to take us up to the village. On the way, one of our number tripped on the edge of the road and fell. Unfortunately, in trying to protect his glasses he ended up landing facedown on his nose. When we got him on his feet again his nose had quite a cut so it was bleeding inside and out. Our tour manager took him back to the ship to be treated. He rejoined us later in the village with a huge plaster on the damaged proboscis.</p><p></p><p>Dürnstein was a beautiful little place of narrow, cobbled streets and old, timbered buildings. The bus dropped us off at the top of the high street so that we could make our way through the village on a downhill trajectory.</p><p></p><p>There were so many products made out of apricots on sale that I was quite befuddled. I didn’t know that the humble apricot could be put to so many uses - apricot brandy, soap, perfumes, dried fruit mixtures and so on and so on. In one shop I bought a small bottle of malt whisky which had been aged in pinot noir barrels.</p><p></p><p>Further down the hill we bumped into our tour manager who had rejoined our group with the injured one and his wife. They had happily gone off to do some exploring and Jackie and I treated our tour manager to a cup of coffee and a pastry in a little Konditorei we found.</p><p></p><p>From there it was but a short walk to Dürnstein Abbey which had been established in1410. We weren’t able to enter that day but a walk around its walls gave us a feel for its dimensions.</p><p></p><p>We carried on down the hillside until we found the bus that was waiting to take us to Melk Abbey. This fortified abbey has been raided, sacked and burnt several times over the centuries, but it was rebuilt in the 18th century and is now regarded as a supreme example of the Baroque style. It’s the home of a number of art treasures and has an extensive library of 85,000 books, all bound in the same decorated golden leather. Melk Abbey is a gloriously beautiful building and the view from atop its outer walls is amazing, taking in the Danube on one side, the village on the other and distant hills and valleys. On the way out of the complex we happened upon a spiral staircase that was so amazingly decorated that we stared awestruck at its baroque complexity.</p><p></p><p>As we stood in an outside courtyard I was lining up a shot with my camera when I realised that the same scenario I had experienced many times was occurring again. As I gazed through the viewfinder, trying to sort out the best shot and trying to apply the rule of thirds to my composition the Ghastly Terry strutted into my field of view, stopping to take a shot, just at the moment i pressed the shutter. I looked at the resulting picture and there was his unbeautiful presence dominating my carefully composed picture. Sighing, I deleted the shot, waited until he was too far away to ruin my next attempt, then pressed the shutter again. Then it struck me - this was a scenario that occurred often when he was around and I was amazed how often it had happened and how many shots I had to delete. I turned to one of my companions and remarked that the next time he marched in front of my camera I was going to extend my zoom lens to its fullest extent and insert it roughly into one of his orifices so sharply that it would more than bring tears to his eyes. Most people who see somebody taking a picture will politely wait a second or so. And then, as I watched him walk away I realised that he had a peculiar way of walking. He bent forward from the waist and walked with his feet quite a way apart. “Do you know,” I remarked to the nearest person. “He always walks as if he’s filled his pants.” There was a lot of laughter and the general consensus was that he did and that he probably had.</p><p></p><p>Jackie and I walked from the Abbey down to the Danube where we were due to reboard our ship. We stood on the quayside for a couple of minutes and then the familiar outline of the Amadeus Royal in her blue and white livery appeared around the nearest bend.</p><p></p><p>That evening there was a gala farewell dinner. The food was first class, our servers were even more affable and obliging than before, if that was possible, although there was an unspoken air of sadness at the prospect of leaving the ship tomorrow and making our way home.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="BillB, post: 1213220, member: 9985"] We cruised all night and during breakfast the ship moored in Dürnstein in Austria. What a beautiful spot this was, sitting on the Danube, surrounded by mountains. The day was clear, the sunlight dazzling on the small clouds that drifted above us occasionally and sparkling on the waters of the river. Vineyards climbed the slopes on both sides of the river in each direction. Their history goes back as far as Roman times when the Romans were the first to bring vines to more northern regions of Europe. There were apricot orchards spread along the river - I was told there are 160,000 trees. Above us, on a mountain peak, were the spectacular remains of Dürnstein Castle, the very castle where King Richard the Lionheart was held hostage by Duke Leopold of Austria after they fell out during the 3rd Crusade. The castle didn’t look as if it was visitable as I couldn’t see any roads leading up to it, and walking up would have been a horrendous climb. As it was, our group walked along the riverside until we came to a minibus that was waiting to take us up to the village. On the way, one of our number tripped on the edge of the road and fell. Unfortunately, in trying to protect his glasses he ended up landing facedown on his nose. When we got him on his feet again his nose had quite a cut so it was bleeding inside and out. Our tour manager took him back to the ship to be treated. He rejoined us later in the village with a huge plaster on the damaged proboscis. Dürnstein was a beautiful little place of narrow, cobbled streets and old, timbered buildings. The bus dropped us off at the top of the high street so that we could make our way through the village on a downhill trajectory. There were so many products made out of apricots on sale that I was quite befuddled. I didn’t know that the humble apricot could be put to so many uses - apricot brandy, soap, perfumes, dried fruit mixtures and so on and so on. In one shop I bought a small bottle of malt whisky which had been aged in pinot noir barrels. Further down the hill we bumped into our tour manager who had rejoined our group with the injured one and his wife. They had happily gone off to do some exploring and Jackie and I treated our tour manager to a cup of coffee and a pastry in a little Konditorei we found. From there it was but a short walk to Dürnstein Abbey which had been established in1410. We weren’t able to enter that day but a walk around its walls gave us a feel for its dimensions. We carried on down the hillside until we found the bus that was waiting to take us to Melk Abbey. This fortified abbey has been raided, sacked and burnt several times over the centuries, but it was rebuilt in the 18th century and is now regarded as a supreme example of the Baroque style. It’s the home of a number of art treasures and has an extensive library of 85,000 books, all bound in the same decorated golden leather. Melk Abbey is a gloriously beautiful building and the view from atop its outer walls is amazing, taking in the Danube on one side, the village on the other and distant hills and valleys. On the way out of the complex we happened upon a spiral staircase that was so amazingly decorated that we stared awestruck at its baroque complexity. As we stood in an outside courtyard I was lining up a shot with my camera when I realised that the same scenario I had experienced many times was occurring again. As I gazed through the viewfinder, trying to sort out the best shot and trying to apply the rule of thirds to my composition the Ghastly Terry strutted into my field of view, stopping to take a shot, just at the moment i pressed the shutter. I looked at the resulting picture and there was his unbeautiful presence dominating my carefully composed picture. Sighing, I deleted the shot, waited until he was too far away to ruin my next attempt, then pressed the shutter again. Then it struck me - this was a scenario that occurred often when he was around and I was amazed how often it had happened and how many shots I had to delete. I turned to one of my companions and remarked that the next time he marched in front of my camera I was going to extend my zoom lens to its fullest extent and insert it roughly into one of his orifices so sharply that it would more than bring tears to his eyes. Most people who see somebody taking a picture will politely wait a second or so. And then, as I watched him walk away I realised that he had a peculiar way of walking. He bent forward from the waist and walked with his feet quite a way apart. “Do you know,” I remarked to the nearest person. “He always walks as if he’s filled his pants.” There was a lot of laughter and the general consensus was that he did and that he probably had. Jackie and I walked from the Abbey down to the Danube where we were due to reboard our ship. We stood on the quayside for a couple of minutes and then the familiar outline of the Amadeus Royal in her blue and white livery appeared around the nearest bend. That evening there was a gala farewell dinner. The food was first class, our servers were even more affable and obliging than before, if that was possible, although there was an unspoken air of sadness at the prospect of leaving the ship tomorrow and making our way home. [/QUOTE]
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