Nyanthorpian perambulator

Posted on December 5, 2023 by Christoph Rehage

fraud

What does that mean: “And so”? Couldn’t I have put up my tent somewhere instead of paying for a warm place? Yes, I could have. The truth is I didn’t feel like I had it in me anymore. There were many reasons not to camp: laws and regulations, the fear of catching a cold before my hairdresser appointment, the necessity of my exercises, the fragility of my medication, etc. etc.

But all of that was just smoke and mirrors.

The truth was that I wanted my things to unfreeze and get dry at the end of a long day. I didn’t want any adventure anymore. I just wanted to get home.

flamingo

As I was walking down a muddy country lane, with the snow thawing under my shoes, I felt somewhat conflicted. There were real outdoor people out there. Danger lovers, exploration enthusiasts, makers of fire. And then there was I, a dude who had gone for a walk. A person on what could be called an extended stroll, a prolonged breeze, a promenade that had gotten out of hand.

The Longest Way.

And then, while I was still pondering these questions, I suddenly found myself standing still. I had arrived at a lake. A lake with some snow and a lot of naked trees around it. And in the middle of the lake, there were a few bright objects floating around. They were inflatable flamingos, and they seemed to be there for no reason at all.

They were flaming pink, and they looked like they didn’t give a fuck about anything.

Corvey

I crossed the Weser at the small town of Beverungen and entered the state of North Rhine-Westphalia. The Princely Abbey of Corvey was up ahead. I was excited because it had the oldest Carolingian westwork in existance, and because it was a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

But there was also a more personal reason: the first time that my home town Bad Nenndorf had ever been mentioned in history was in the year 936 – in the documents of the Benedictine Abbey of Corvey. They called Bad Nenndorf Nyanthorpe back then.

Alas, when I arrived in Corvey the sky was already getting dark. I hung out for a while, took some pictures of the facade, and I plucked a leaf from a bush because I wanted a keepsake from this place. Then I marched on.

dinner

When I got close to the town of Holzminden I called a private guesthouse to inquire about a room. It was run by a German-Bolivian family.

“What are you doing out there?” they said when I arrived, “it’s so cold!”

We sat down at their table, they gave me a bowl of pasta, and we talked for a few hours. I, the perambulator who liked to have it warm, was with friends now.