The Perfect Romance

Travel seems like a distant marvel in today’s world with our local public transports still running empty let alone aeroplanes and other long-commute transportations. However, that probably is the point of travel, a romance between the then and now. After all, at some point, we all end our trip or stop travelling altogether. And then we end up in this world of wanderlust and wonderment, a perfect romance.

This isn’t a comparative study of wanderlust and romance among people, please don’t treat it that way. It is in fact a story, a story of love different from what you may have encountered, yet not very different. The same narrative hooks, the climax, the bitter end. Bit of a spoil there, innit?

When I alighted from that bus with my mate, it was a different world out there. A world of passion, vividness! The glory of Tintern Abbey literally gave us the shock of our lives. It wasn’t the architecture or the natural beauty, but rather the transcendental nature of the elements of nature coming together - the cold rain, the vibrant green despite winter’s bare touch. Not to forget the aptly named Wye River. No, I am not speaking about the Welsh meaning. I am just talking about the existentialism it faces every time somebody says its name.

Tintern Abbey

The red on the hills really kept us mouthing the words, “Fuck wow!” And if you would know it, the top of the hill where you could ascend to was called the Devil’s pulpit. Let’s not forget the sheer feeling of joy and absolute power standing on the Welsh side of the border of Wales and England - there’s the reason behind the existential crisis the river is facing, it is dividing two countries and one of them is England.

Wye River

The rain was pouring down on our coats and my hat. The chill was extremely addictive. Or is addictive a negative word? Maybe the positive word is euphoric? The thin layer of rain mist made the sight conclusively stunning, it was liberating. We felt like we had achieved the highest form of peace. There was serenity in the air. Yes, by just breathing in. Very rarely is there something fresh in damp air.

After we visited the Abbey and my mate had been visited by the ghost of said Abbey, we got a move on into a pretty small cottage for brunch. Oh wait, you want to know the ghost story? Let’s just say doubting the story of the Virgin Mary in an Abbey won’t do you any good.

The cottage had a medieval feel to it. It was like moving from the ruins of the clergy to the preserved lifestyle of the peasants. After a sumptuous brunch, we headed for a walk along the inviting road. The rain continued. It embellished the surroundings to an extent that words would find difficult to describe. There was a sense of mystery, a sense of suspense. We were in a world that was dying to be left unexplored by the hands of exploitation. And yet, we were exploring.

We were visited by a dog, Dogsworth I call him, after Wordsworth who had been here not so long ago writing away about Tintern’s glory. Yes, in the world we were in, Wordsworth seemed not so long ago as his very words albeit about a different season still resonated with us. How would that be possible with something so distant? The dog was stern, calm and serene. He was our well-wisher. He was the very reason why wanderlust itself existed.

Defunct Tintern Station

We walked down the path met by a vineyard, a waterwheel, a stone dragon, a defunct railway station and stone statues. But these were not what made us awestruck. You find a damn dragon in your auntie’s showcase. It was the very real reverie and the unreal reality. The station was only a backdrop to what nature had in store for us. The statues were a mere cherry on the cake. The feeling of wonderment and mystery might have diminished under hunger and tiredness but this was a place that was going to be more than a memory. After lunching on traditional Welsh food, we took the bus back to our concrete world. Still amazed by what we had experienced. The blues had gotten to us. We wouldn’t see a place like that for a long time. Lockdown put a seal on that thought.

One last look before we got on the bus

So yes, a bitter ending but it was yet a happy memory, a memory that I was going to relish. And hence it is a perfect romance. It was a realisation that that world is out of my league but a feeling of not bitterness but wonderment and wanderlust. Something which will live in me forever and something that will not make me regret. The rain’s mist will forever make the barren trees lush in my mind.