A DROP OF GOLDEN SUN
Any cruise down the Danube is magical; one that includes a Von Trapp granddaughter is something of a fairytale
WE were in the library, sailing up the Danube and singing songs from The Sound of Music, led by Captain von Trapp’s real granddaughter, Elisabeth von Trapp.
Actually, I was listening, too shy to join the other novices: four young women who could with conviction sing “I am 16 going on 17”. It was when they got to the line: “Totally unprepared am I to face a world of men”, that I saw, through the window, we were passing a stretch of riverbank frequented by naturists and silently urged the singers: “Don’t look now — you’ll be put off for life.”
The presence of Von Trapp was the musical flourish on a journey already strong on the arts. The cruise would take us from Budapest via a medley of historic cities to the German border, and included an excursion to Salzburg, the main location for the film adaptation of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical. To celebrate the film’s 50th anniversary last year, Uniworld invited Elisabeth to accompany two of its Enchanting Danube cruises. She enjoyed it so much she came back for more.
Eagerness to sign up star guests is just one sign of how cruise lines are evolving — and booming. When I boarded Uniworld’s River Beatrice ship in Budapest, I was surprised at the number of sleek cruise vessels on the river, with names like Monet, Beethoven and Nimrod.
At a welcome concert for passengers, Von Trapp sang songs from the film, accompanying herself on the guitar. She told anecdotes about her family, the home they’d made in Vermont after they’d left Austria in 1938, and their life as touring singers. Later, she hosted an afternoon tea at which two dancers in Viennese ball regalia taught us the waltz. The cruise also featured musical recitals, theatre sketches and lectures to prime us for the shore excursions.
Budapest and Bratislava were new cities for me, so in each case I took the “first-
timers’” option. We explored the art nouveau opulence of the Hungarian capital and the cobbled streets of its petite Slovakian counterpart, as local guides coloured in the detail. By the time we hit Vienna on day three, however, my brain was starting to jam. As our coach glided past a humbling concentration of worldclass opera houses, theatres, concert halls and museums, I felt overwhelmed.
As the guide led us into the city centre on foot, the only words I could take in were “1 100 coffee shops” — with the unspoken subtext of “cake”. I peeled away from the group and found a coffee house, the last place Mozart performed in public as a pianist, a few doors from his final home, where he died in 1791. I contemplated his genius with a slice of Café Frauenhuber’s speciality: a slice of heaven stuffed with apple and poppy seeds.
On board, relaxed chats over meals at big round tables with families and couples from Hong Kong, Qatar and Canada proved to be a trip highlight. Around threequarters of the 130 passengers were from the US, but we comprised 13 nationalities in all. The words “semi-retired” came up frequently, although there was nothing “semi” about these travellers’ energy or sense of adventure.
During the cruise, I joined an afternoon group cycle tour along the riverbank. I also took advantage of the early-morning activities. We did yoga on the roof of the ship, saluting the sun as it rose above the Danube plain. In Vienna, we went Nordic walking along the riverbank. The following day, as the boat followed the twisting river between wooded hillsides, we performed the Five Tibetan Rites of Rejuvenation. Just three of us: none of the other guests seemed to want rejuvenating.
I mentioned the fact at breakfast. Hal, an 83-year-old from Ohio, said: “Saving my energy for the bike ride later: 28km up the river, temperature forecast to be 40°C, don’t want to overdo it. You joining us?” I made my excuses. Hal’s business card read “Apex Enjoyment Co.”
Reg, 81, from Adelaide, said it was important to stay in shape in middle age. “Scientists now agree that middle age is from 60-90,” he added. As Reg is a semiretired gynaecologist, we believed him. And I was feeling younger by the day.
Still, I stuck to my plan and enjoyed the barbecue on the sun deck as we glided up the Wachau Valley, a picturesque stretch of the Danube. From Linz, coaches took us to Salzburg for a day trip. Before a singalong on the steps in the Mirabell Palace gardens — film location for the closing bars of DoRe-Mi — Elisabeth sang in the palace chapel, where the echoing acoustics matched her pure, bell-like voice perfectly.
“That gave me goose bumps,” one passenger said later.
I saw her on board tutoring some young singers from the US and Indonesia and Singapore. At the final evening singalong, they performed with confidence.
Von Trapp originally trained in music, theatre and education. After running a fashion business for 25 years, she decided to explore her own creativity — and now tours as a musician.
“I’m finding that life is opening up,” she told me. “I’m daring to go beyond my own boundaries. And as we travel, we cross borders all the time.”
Her husband, Ed Hall, quit a legal career to accompany her on this adventure as her full-time manager/producer.
I thought back to the film: to the mother superior urging Maria to “climb every mountain… till you find your dream”; to the future Frau von Trapp leaving the convent having “confidence in confidence alone”; and to the real Von Trapps, who fled and became refugees in a distant land.
On that first morning in the library, I had envied the enthusiasm of those young singers. I had stopped singing at the age of six when I was thrown out of the school choir for “growling”. As I prepared to join the cruise, I wondered: could this be a chance to make amends?
Back home, I signed up for singing lessons and joined a choir. Now and again, as I walk along, I find myself singing: “I am 54 going on 55… baby, you’re on the brink.” I really believe it. — ©
‘Life is opening up. I’m daring to go beyond my own boundaries. As we travel, we cross borders all the time.’