I push out the night’s cobwebs with a cup of coffee, sitting on the sundeck of our elegant barge, while watching the sun peak above the trees that hedge France’s Marne River. A wispy mist rises from the warm water like dragon’s breath; it swirls and drifts, dancing in the morning light. The engine of our vessel, the Nenuphar, rumbles to life, echoing across the river’s smoky surface. The ship’s personable young deckhand Sacha releases the ropes from the dock bollards, and we push off from the wharf. I have always been excited by the mysteries of river travel, sailing on a slow boat down a meandering, well-travelled waterway stokes my imagination.
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