The city disappeared almost without warning. One moment we were leaving behind Heidelberg’s old streets, the Neckar River, the ruined red-sandstone castle high on the hillside, and the graceful arches of the Old Bridge. The next, our bus seemed to have entered a different Germany altogether.

Buildings vanished. Trees multiplied. Hills rose on both sides of the road. Sunlight filtered through thick green branches as if it too needed permission to enter. It felt less like a road trip and more like the opening scene of a fairy tale.

The name sounds slightly frightening. Black Forest! It conjures up images of dark woods, mysterious paths, witches, fairy tales and perhaps a wolf waiting behind a tree. The Romans called it silva nigra for its dense, shadowy appearance. Germans call it the Schwarzwald.

But the first surprise was simple: The Black Forest is far more green than black. Our teacher and guide, Lady Martha, explained that this vast forested mountain region in southwestern Germany is known for its dense woods of fir, spruce and beech, rolling hills, waterfalls, lakes, traditional villages and wooden houses with sloping roofs.

Only a short while earlier we had been in Heidelberg, the city of universities, books, romance and old-world charm.

Now the scenery had changed completely. And in the Black Forest, it seems time itself has slowed down for a walk. The skyscrapers had disappeared. Mountains had taken their place. Traffic noise had given way to the rustling of trees.

The stock market was gone. The oxygen market was booming! Looking through the bus window, I felt that nature had never hurried here. Trees had grown slowly. Mountains had stood patiently. Rivers had followed their own course. Only we are in a hurry frenzy. In the city, the mobile phone rings. Here, the birds answer. In the city, horns shout. Here, the wind whispers through the trees.

The Black Forest reminded me of the Nilgiri Hills in South India. Both offer that rare luxury which modern life has almost forgotten: peace for the eyes and silence for the mind.

Large parts of the Black Forest, especially since the creation of the Black Forest National Park in 2014, are managed with the idea of allowing nature considerable freedom. The park’s guiding principle is essentially ‘let nature be nature’. It is almost as if the forest is telling humans: “Please leave us alone. We have been running this system much longer than you have!” And perhaps it knows better.

We humans want to manage everything—forests, rivers, traffic, markets, neighbours and sometimes even other people’s lives.

The forest simply grows. The Black Forest is not just about trees. It is a land of waterfalls, lakes, traditional villages, wooden houses and, above all, cuckoo clocks.

The cuckoo-clock tradition is deeply rooted here. Farmers and craftsmen began making them in the 18th century during the long winters; the earliest workshops appeared around Schönwald near Triberg. Triberg remains one of the best-known centres for Black Forest cuckoo clocks, with shops such as the House of 1000 Clocks.

Every hour the little bird comes out and announces: “Cuckoo!” Padmini Iyer reacted, "In India, if such a clock were installed at home, the family would probably ask on the third day: "Where is the button to shut this thing up?” But here the cuckoo is culture.

Our clocks sometimes run late in India. Here, even the cuckoo appears to be punctual. German discipline has reached the birds! Here a clock does not merely tell the time. It tells a story. And sells a souvenir.

Triberg is one of the major attractions of the Black Forest. The sound of falling water, the green hills and the winding paths create the sort of scenery that makes a camera jump out of the pocket by itself.

First, you look at the waterfall. Then you take a photograph. Then you look at yourself in the photograph. Then comes the inevitable: “One more photo!”

During our European journey, “one more photo” may be the second-most-used sentence after: “Where is the next toilet?” But our legs had begun issuing their own travel advisories.

After several days of walking around European cities, the knees had made their position very clear. So, we seniors reached a practical agreement with nature: Whatever we can see comfortably is enough. 

Not every waterfall has to be conquered. Sometimes it is perfectly possible to admire nature from a respectful distance.

Age teaches you an important lesson: You don’t have to reach everywhere. You just have to enjoy wherever you reach.

And then came the most important chapter of the day: Lunch! In the middle of the Black Forest, Nilesh Desai welcomed us to his restaurant and gave us something that felt wonderfully familiar.

Dahi vada. Aloo tikki. Kadhi. Khichdi. And, of course, the real Black Forest cake, the cherry-and-cream creation that actually originates from this region. We had eaten plenty of pastries and cakes named after the Black Forest. But eating Black Forest cake inside the actual Black Forest was a delicious coincidence.

The forest was German. The food was Indian. Thank you, Lady Martha! And our stomachs were extremely happy about this cultural exchange.

After days of travelling, walking and sightseeing, the meal seemed to make the tiredness disappear. They say love goes through the stomach. In our case, kadhi and khichdi took the express route to the heart.

For a vegetarian traveller abroad, food sometimes becomes a parallel tourist attraction. You may go looking for castles, museums and waterfalls. But eventually the stomach takes over the itinerary.

The morning chant of “Radhe-Radhe” was still fresh in our minds. On one side was the Radha of Braj. On the other was Germany’s Schwarzwald. Different language. Different climate. Different culture. But music and nature share one beautiful quality: They don’t ask for passports.

The bhajans sung by Geetamji had given our morning a spiritual touch. Now the same bus was moving through the forest, and nature seemed to be performing its own quiet prayer.

Somewhere, a river was flowing. Somewhere, church bells were ringing. Somewhere, a cuckoo was announcing the hour. And somewhere inside our Indian tourist group, the most practical question was still alive: “How far is the next toilet?”

That is Europe. Spirituality, scenery and sanitation! One lesson has followed us throughout this European journey. Cities make us move faster. Nature makes us slow down. And in the Black Forest, only the wind seemed to be in a hurry. Perhaps that is the forest’s greatest lesson. Not everything in life needs to be rushed. 

Sometimes life should simply be allowed to stand still, like a tree. The trees here don’t give speeches. The mountains don’t publish their achievements. The river doesn’t post selfies on social media. They simply exist. And in today’s noisy world, perhaps that is the greatest luxury of all. Silence is also a language.

Only a few days ago we were beside the canals of Amsterdam. Then came Brussels. In one remarkable day, three countries passed before our bus windows.

Heidelberg revealed its intellectual and romantic heritage. And now the Black Forest was showing us another face of Europe: its natural beauty.

The map kept changing. The photographs kept multiplying. The suitcase kept getting smaller. But the storehouse of memories kept expanding.

The question was no longer: “What is left to see in Europe?” It was: “How are we going to take all these memories home?”

There may be little space left in the suitcase for clothes. But there is always room in the mind for memories.

The journey continues. And so does our story.