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Word Count: 1,090
The Vanishing Waterland Out of breath and relieved I plopped down in the closest seat to the window My boyfriend Andy and I barely made it to our train because the lazy alarm failed to get us out of bed We were seated in a six-person compartment on the train accompanied by two older women in their sixties wearing mink coats In the seat next to them was an older man with a thick German accent The aged architecture of Vienna faded into the overcast sky as the train set out for Italy The movement of the train rocked me to sleep while I was imagining what the city intertwined in canals and bridges had in store for us during our three-day visit I woke a couple hours later to Andy gently shaking me The view of the Alps from the train window was unforgettable It was like someone hand painted a watercolor of the beautiful snow-capped mountains on the window The train snaked along the side of a mountain disappearing into tunnels and blacking out the view of the Alps The flashes of scenery I did manage to take in would only be found in a film that won Best Picture at the Oscars Acres of wine vineyards were scattered along the sloping mountainside on my left On the other side of a cold frozen river was the blue-gray appearance of the Alps They were not as big as I pictured them to be but their beauty masked any expectations one might place on such scenery While I was gazing out at the Alps Andy had been sitting quietly listening to the two elderly women chat Andy is a German major so unlike me he understood what the women were talking about Andy turned to me with a mixed looked of amusement and concern and informed me we picked a bad time to visit Venice Apparently December was not the best time to
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