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August 2023

- The Oder Swans -

Like all great passions, both my desire to travel and my desire to paint are characterised by a certain amount of irrationality. When the two meet, even a harmless undertaking can come close to the adventurous. After all, a summer cycling tour in the Oder marshes should not actually offer anything exciting, especially if the weather is nice. But my two-day tour had a little risk built in beforehand: I had not booked an overnight stay, but wanted to decide spontaneously on the spot where it would go at all. First, straight to the Oder, this fascinating river that flows rapidly through the Oder floodplains. I was quickly motivated to paint a picture of a barge being carried by the current towards the Baltic Sea. The barge had not yet passed when I already noticed a wondrous excitement in the swans, which until then had been paddling around quietly, almost bored, in the area of the river close to the shore. Suddenly they hurried to get deeper into the water. Only a short time later did I understand the swans' behaviour. For it was quite wonderful to surf on the big waves that streamed from the stern of the boat to the riverbank like a fan. I thought I was missing something, but the birds, usually so calm, seemingly somewhat indifferent, were clearly enjoying themselves as they were quickly carried away by the waves. Now I too was carried away by the desire to paint a second picture. Of course, it was of the Oder swans, which were now once again calmly rocking on the water near the shore. I let myself be carried away, forgot the time and was simply happy where I was. I would have loved to paint a third picture, because now the sun was setting and the bright blue sky with its thick pink and reddish clouds was reflected wonderfully in the water. But luckily I remembered that I was travelling without a tent and sleeping bag and did not yet have a place to stay for the night. The hangover came as I cycled along this long, dead-straight road for kilometre after kilometre. It got dusky, then dark and finally pitch black. Not a soul, not a village far and wide, not even a car met me. The stars were twinkling so beautifully, but I was so angry with myself and my desire to paint. How could I get so carried away and be so haphazard? Marionita-Chiquita, little Marion, I scolded myself, so old and so irrational! I didn't even know exactly where I was.

You'll never do that again! But finally, after what felt like an eternity, the lights of a small village came into view. When I got hold of the last room in the only inn there, my self-confidence quickly got the upper hand again and the good intentions were over. On the contrary, the eternal adventurer was back at the helm. I should have held my nerve and painted the picture with the sunset! Annoying. I sat down at the bar and ordered a cold beer from the landlady, non-alcoholic. Why did I panic earlier? My guesthouse room would certainly have been free an hour later. Or maybe not. At that moment, the door to the guest room opened and I heard a voice ask: "Good evening, do you still have a room available?"

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