{"id":680,"date":"2009-07-28T13:14:31","date_gmt":"2009-07-28T19:14:31","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/peterstenhouse.com\/journal\/?p=680"},"modified":"2024-04-26T05:29:41","modified_gmt":"2024-04-26T11:29:41","slug":"the-grey-danube","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.peterstenhouse.com\/journal\/the-grey-danube\/","title":{"rendered":"The grey Danube"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"_mg_0035_treehouse\"<\/p>\n

I leave Florians house on the edge of the city, still tired and with a headache,. Immediately I am climbing hills that over look the river and Vienna. My head pounds with the effort. I rush along the Danube with the wind behind me, thoughst as muddy as its water, I swim in a lake and drink a lot of water, but its not until a nap, that I can think clearly.
\nFrom Krems the path runs paralell to rows of apricot trees. A sunshower and gusts of wind drop ripe fruit to the ground. I stuff my bags with them. Its a beautiful part of the world. I swim again in the Danube and come out grimy.
\nAn old man offers me money to continue my trip, a group around a BBQ give me wine as well as the salt I asked for. The Austrians are suprisingly friendly.
\nThundestorms erupt just as I finish my dinner. I throw down my tent, and dive inside, seconds before it is lashed by wind and rain. Tired, I take long blinks as I hold the tent down through the storm, its sides press in on me.<\/p>\n