Tag: Tourist

Our bus careened over the hill and down into another pristine valley. Pines passed by at a leisurely rate. And the sun shone through a break in the Austrian Alps. We typically never do this.

Tour busses and groups epitomize the type of traveler that I simply don’t want to be. I can see it now: a group of late middle-age women with fanny packs and vizors piles onto the bus. Each has a camera and one of those neck wallets that holds everything—you know, so it’s easier to steal. Catty laughs and group photos overtake the day. The sun comes out and on goes the sunblock and clip-on sunglasses.

The horror.

But this was different. The stunning mountains soar high. Crystal clear lakes lay at the bottom of valleys. Tiny towns with tempting bakeries beckon a visit. This is the Alps.

My daydream died in front of my eyes and my attention turned to the front of the bus. Music started blaring out of the speakers. Our tour guide began dancing up the aisle, sporting a microphone. She started singing.

“Let’s start at the very beginning…”

No.

“A very good place to start…”

What’s happening? It can’t be. I turned to my wife. Her entire face beamed a smile that didn’t quit. She knew what was going to happen next. The music picked up pace and our tour guide began passing the microphone from person to person.

“Do, a dear, a female dear…”

For the love of all that is holy, no.

“Ra, a drop of golden sun…”

She’s coming this way.

“Mi, a name I call myself…”

Don’t make eye contact.

“Fa, a long, long way to run…”

This was literally our first time on a tour bus. And I should have known there’d be a sing-along on a Sound of Music bus tour. And now it was far too late. This was happening. I looked up and our gleeful tour guide dropped the end of the microphone within centimeters of my lips.

I quietly gushed, “ti, a drink with jam and bread…”

She finished, “that will bring us back to do, do, do, do…”

It’s official: I’m a tourist.

anthony forrest