The Water

There is something mystical and enchanting about the water. Whether it is sky blue and crystal clear or burdened by the filth of the many lands it crosses, whether it moves through mountains and planes to reach the wide open, or it stays tranquil answering only to the changing of the moon: it is beautiful. Once the water captures you, there is no way to escape.

The water I have is the Danube and I stay untouched by the fact that it’s brown and grey and its stench and that it twirls the grime of ten countries. It’s our river; it has been my most loyal companion for the past year. In the morning I cross it from Pest to Buda and each day I embark on the Petőfi Bridge in the hope that I will be able to smell the water. The fish, the oil stains, the debris, the many secrets: the smell of life as carried from the Black Forest. Vienna says “hi”, Bratislava says “hello”, Budapest welcomes you on this fine morning and you’ll find Belgrade in much of its beauty as yesterday. The Danube gently washes the backs of great lands, great cities.

My river is patient and forgiving. I am much in love with this city that it separates in two. Everything that I go through, the river knows about. The Danube is mine, the gentlest companion in this crudely harsh world. When everyone is out to slash my skin open, the water comes and heals all the wounds of sorrow. Without ever touching it, my hand is firmly held by the whirls and the current that forces me to hang on. I sometimes feel like I’m slow dancing in a burning room. The river leads me down alleyways that we create for ourselves. Right there and then, it will cut a path for me, tear it out from the concrete just so I can see the humbling power. I place my face on its glittering back and hear it hum a gorgeous melody. The sun warms the surface, the fish jump in their joy of living; the seagulls fly far for there are no remains for them to feast on. The river like a cat purrs, begs for every passer by to put their hands in the midst of its glory. “Let me show you my true self”, it begs for them to hear its voice. It is most happy when the many boats rub against its tired back. When the waves giggle as they ride up and down the weary spine. Then the river can show the grace and the luminous pride as it hurries down to its magnificent sea.

Night gently covers every corner of the city and pulls its blanket of stars over the Danube. I stand motionless on the Szabadság Bridge and try to count the colours the river plays with. The green and grey turn black and the water reflects the many lights that on its banks alight. Like a careless child the Danube throws the flickering lights up and down its back. The waves carry it from shore to shore, then back to the middle and I see it putting on a show for those who care to wander out when the dark threatens with its stay. But how would a giant like this river, be held back by the moon taking over from the sun? Night is when it safeguards the welfare of its people. Night is when it rocks the docking boats to sleep. Night is when the light comes out to play and night is when the stars descend in a paper boat to hold a race on the quiet river. Night is when nobody can see, when the river can carry itself humbly to its magnificent sea.

No other water has been as close to me as the Duna. The Oceano Atlântico at Guincho was wild and untameable, roaring from the anger and the shackles it wanted to rid. The Thames was much too arrogant to take notice of the inhabitants camping on its banks. The Vlatva was silent and tremblingly too shy to ever capture my heart. I visit the Lac de Neuchâtel from time to time and sadly it just stays foreign to me.

The Danube has my heart and I will gladly give it my soul. I will smile as I walk above it tomorrow morning. I will stay true and when I take my heart and give it to someone else, I will show the river that just because I love another, I never stopped loving you.