David Rhys Williams, 24 Avondale Crescent, Grangetown, Cardiff CF11 7DE Tel 029 20233606 Mob. 07729 015802 rhyswilliams79@btinternet.com Viking Cruise Description by Rhys Williams In April 2014 Margaret and I went on a Viking river cruise from Berlin to Prague. The river was the Elbe. Everybody knows that travel broadens the mind. I knew nothing of the Elbe. It ran through what our generation had come to think of as Eastern Europe. As much as I assumed anything, I rather took it that one side of the river would be the old West and the other side would be the old East. But no, both sides of the river were the old East. Not only that, but the river cruise was largely a lovely pastoral journey down the river. Margaret and I enjoyed the calm and tranquillity we felt as we gazed at the views on both banks. I think we had vaguely assumed that we would see belching industrial chimneys from the good old days of Soviet-inspired social realism. On the contrary, apart from the cities and towns we very much wanted to visit, like Potsdam, Wittenberg, Messien and Dresden, the intervening stretches of water were largely bounded by forests and fields. At the beginning of the cruise we spent a few days in Berlin. Thanks to the recommendation of the excellent Serbo-Croat tour guide on the Viking boat, Margaret and I three times ate at Maximilian’s Restaurant in Friedrichstrasse, Berlin. The first time, at lunch, I remember whispering to a waitress that I fancied whatever that lady over there was eating. It turned out she was eating a speciality of the restaurant except that she had opted for noodles instead of potatoes. I opted for noodles too and was pleased by the result. The following day at dinner we returned to the same wooden-topped tables and I had knuckle of pork and Margaret goulash. We shared a most acceptable bottle of red cuvée and enjoyed the meal. The next night, again at Maximilian’s, we both had steak and fried potatoes followed by ice-cream and coffee. It is simple to write but it was excellent to eat. In Berlin we arrived early at the Pergamon Museum to avoid the worst of the queues. My wife took me to see the magnificent Ishtar Gate of Babylon and I was suitably impressed. Ours has been a long and largely happy mixed marriage. Mixed in that Margaret is, by birth and upbringing, an English Roman Catholic while I was born and brought up a Welsh, Protestant, Nonconformist. In Wittenburg, I was shocked that from the lips of my wife of over forty years, the words, “Here I stand. I can do no other” did not pass as lightly and as fluently as they did mine. Indeed, the words, “bought the T shirt” could give these very words a particular resonance in the streets of Wittenburg. It was also interesting that in these equality-aware days, as much attention seemed to be given in guide books to Mrs. Luther as to Martin. I am even now embarrassed by my inability to remember Mrs. Luther’s first name. The Meissen pottery factory was as interesting as the town of Meissen itself was interesting and pleasant to look around and to drink coffee. For opulent decoration, however, the Opera House in Dresden was stunning. In Dresden Margaret and I would particularly recommend the Zwinger Palace where we spent an absorbing couple of hours in the Old Masters’ Picture Gallery. Still on tours of foreign countries we bring with us what we are. The tour ended in Prague with an excellent walking, guided tour of the city. We had made friends on the boat with Wendy and Elwyn, a Welsh couple from Nottage, Porthcawl. We had a similar sense of humour which was just as well as I made up a series of limericks about so-called posh Porthcawl. That must have been me limbering up because at the end of the cruise, I won a bottle of white wine for a limerick about Viking. In Prague we went on a very interesting walking tour along the cobble-stones of the old Jewish Quarter of the city. We all wore little radio mikes which meant that we could hear what the guide said even if we were at the back of the tour party. At one point, the guide observed that roughly half his party was American and half British. We heard him ask someone who evidently was walking beside him where she was from. She replied, “Wales.” It was Wendy. Margaret and I smiled at each other. The guide asked whether she could say the long railway place name in Wales. Wendy replied, “Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch.” Margaret and I again exchanged smiles. Food, friends and fascinating places to visit – ask me now about the River Elbe and . . . how long have you got?