hidden europe 63

Editorial hidden europe 63

by hidden europe

Picture above: Hunawihr vineyards (photo © hidden europe)

Summary

Is there not a measure of absurdity in all our lives today? We have discovered that it’s hardly possible to plan anything. And yet there is a certain liberation in simply not trying to plan, in just receiving with simplicity all that might come our way. This may of course be the secret of enjoying travel, as and when the day comes when we can start exploring Europe again.

Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you.” That was the philosophy of the mediaeval mystic and Talmud scholar Salomon de Troyes, often known as Rashi. It’s an approach to life and work which seems curiously apposite today for anyone involved in travel publishing. There was a time when we could look a year or more ahead, confident of our publishing plans, with a clear idea of what would feature in this or that upcoming issue of hidden europe.

No longer. And that’s why we are extremely grateful to the four guest contributors to this issue who have really gone beyond the call of duty to provide some wonderful prose. Kirsty Jane Falconer, Laurence Mitchell and Duncan JD Smith have all written for us before, and we are pleased to feature their work again in this issue. We offer a very warm welcome to Welsh writer Amy Aed who, with her account of learning how to milk goats on a farm in the Galician hills, is a first-time contributor to hidden europe.

Is there not a measure of absurdity in all our lives today? We have discovered that it’s hardly possible to plan anything. And yet there is a certain liberation in simply not trying to plan, in just following the prescript of Rashi in receiving with simplicity all that might come our way. This may of course be the secret of enjoying travel, as and when the day comes when we can start exploring Europe again. Has there perhaps been a tendency to plan too much, when the essence of the rewarding journey is uncertainty?

These are issues we explore in the perspective piece in this issue of the magazine. Elsewhere in the pages that follow, we escort you to Russia, Bulgaria, Poland, Italy, France and many other corners of hidden Europe. We discover ice caves, tidal islands, a Silesian penitential trail and a radical Dominican, and taste some wonderful wines.

Most importantly, our thanks go to subscribers of hidden europe who have loyally supported the magazine and our work as independent writers and publishers during a particularly difficult period. We know from generous feedback that many readers have enjoyed the chance to indulge in some vicarious travel. Let’s hope that the upcoming months will once again give us the chance to hop on a train, a bus or a ferry and renew our acquaintance with the varied landscapes and cultures which give texture and meaning to our shared European home.

Nicky Gardner & Susanne Kries
Editors

Berlin-Lichterfelde
February 2021

Related article

Editorial hidden europe 46

Welcome to issue 46 of hidden europe travel magazine. In this issue we walk through Lisbon and take the ferry to Iceland's Vestmannaeyjar. We also explore the Suffulk coast of England and visit the Danube wetlands and the Scottish Cairngorms.

Related note

The warm shadow of Isabelle Eberhardt

Many years ago, I spent a long hot summer in and around a sleepy ksar on the edge of the Sahara. I read many books that summer, but it was 'Dans l’ombre chaude de l’Islam' that tugged and tugged again, urging me to return to its pages. That book was my introduction to Isabelle Eberhardt, a writer who — perhaps more than any other — has influenced my life and my thinking. This summer, so far from the desert and in a country where the most charming of all oases is my garden, I turned to Sharon Bangert’s English translation of 'Dans l’ombre chaude de l’Islam'. It appears under the Peter Owen imprint in a pocket-sized paperback.

Related note

Bookmark: A Sentimental Journey

The travel narratives of yesteryear line our shelves, and it was really no more than chance that last week we looked again at Laurence Sterne’s Sentimental Journey. Some might venture that in shelving it in the travel section of our modest library we have erred. It is more a work of sentimental fiction than a travelogue sensu stricto. 244 years after its initial publication, A Sentimental Journey through France and Italy is still a fine read.