Day 5 - Salzburg

It was dark when I woke up. I liked looking out the window, contemplating the view and grading it from spectacular to deadly dull. Two similar brick and concrete building stood outside my window, separated by a modest parking-lot. A cul-de-sac at the far end linked this area to the street outside. Beyond this was a smaller arched gate to the silent walled cemetery. The gates were ornate. Think Haunted Mansion, Transylvania, Count Dracula and you'll know what I mean. I shivered. The chill was not imaginary.

I cannot see myself living in a house like this. Its walls, cold and dank, seemed to whisper dark secrets in conspiratorial tones. Shadows lurked at the corners away from the prying reaches of the dim neon glow. Attached bathrooms are such a blessing. If I have to leave my room in the middle of the night to get to the bathroom, I probably won't.

By 6 am, all was bright and gay outside so we went for a walk. A French couple in their fifties sat on the solitary bench by the main door. We exchanged greetings and smiles and explored the little lawn. There wasn't much to see. The neighborhood was a quiet one. A few cars drove past us occasionally and that was just about all the life that stirred around us.

The dining room was closed until 8 am although Herbert was pottering in the kitchen. We returned to our room, whipped out our tablets and tapped the time away.

Hearing footsteps on the wooden stairs at about 8 am, we left our room accordingly. The dining room was opened. The tables were set. Gargantuan croissants, ham slices, buns, cheeses were laid out on the table. We had a hearty meal washed down with strong brews of coffee and tea. We were asked how we wanted our eggs. Mr Nice-Guy preferred them hard-boiled while the rest of us requested for half-boiled, which Herbert politely reaffirmed as "soft-boiled".

The dining room was quiet. We were seated on four adjoining tables by the corner, divided from the kitchen by a wall. The next table was occupied by the French couple we met this morning. Another woman breakfasted alone on the table by the window. A younger woman sat alone on the adjacent table close to the door. The other diners ate silently, chatting in low whispers as did we.

The eggs arrived soon after, each on an egg holder. Now there were certain table manners to be observed for eating soft-boiled eggs served in an eggcup. The shell at the top of the egg is cracked with a knife horizontally, all around the egg. The tip of the knife is used to lift the shell from the egg. This is placed on the side of the plate. Because the exposed part of the egg is relatively flat, if a dab of butter is placed on it, the butter melts and flows over the egg. A mound of salt and pepper is made on the side of the plate. With a tea spoon, a bite of egg is scooped from the shell and dipped into the seasonings. Alternatively, a pinch of salt and pepper may be sprinkled over each bite by hand. Only after this elaborate ritual are the eggs sent to the mouth.

We learned by example, don't we? As a little kid growing up in a small town, I had had on various occasion seen old men eating half-boiled eggs in public. They lifted the eggs with their fingers, crack 'em in half by knocking it against the rim of the coffee cup, then drop the gooey stuff onto a little plate which came with the morning coffee. A sprinkle of pepper and a splash of soy sauce and the eggs are swallowed with gusto.

I knew some etiquette had to be followed when the eggs arrived but I could not remember the detail. The egg does not leave the egg cup.You just have to figure out how it's done. A tea spoon laid on the plate beside the cup. Surmising that this was the proper tool for the occasion, I lifted the teaspoon and tapped the top of the egg to make it crack. (Remember that the dining room is quiet.) The French couple who was seated on the next table across from ours choked on their croissants. I knew I have erred. My husband (bless his soul) intervened to correct the situation. After two or three scoops, I found it troublesome and gave up the egg altogether.

Meanwhile, Ms Walk-Faster, who was seated across from me was a lot more practical. She lifted the egg from the egg cup with her fingers, gave the cup a quizzical glance, then knocked the egg against the cup, making quite a ruckus. The French couple on the next table behind her burst into laughter which they quickly stiffled by sneaking behind their napkins. I was a tad embarrassed. There were tears in their eyes. They did not know that I was watching them.

Herbert was an amiable man. A tall, broad shouldered man in his early forties, he left his vocation as an IT consultant of some sort, to focus on the B &B business his father bequeathed to him. He had a pleasant personality and took pains to make sure we were comfortable. After breakfast, he told us how his father, a soldier settled in Salzburg after the war and founded Pension Herbert and a cafe nearby to tap on the tourist industry.

Our group could not reach a decision about the mountains. Seeing that it was strongly recommended by Herbert's wife, some of us were keen to see them for ourselves. The three young-uns argued back and forth.

"I will not join you today if you're driving to the mountains. I think I'll stay back in my room to rest because my head is heavy and I can feel a fever coming any time soon," I said, not wishing to be caught with a fever up there where the hills are alive with the sound of music!

After a moment's silence, the issue was settled. The number 5 bus will take us downtown Salzburg from where we could always return should the occasion called for it. We withdrew to our respective rooms to prepare for the day's adventure. The bus stop was a stone's throw from Pension Herbert. Herbert's wife who took the same bus helped us identify the bus stop on our side of the Salzach river from where we began our walk by first crossing a small metal bridge featured in The Sound of Music.

Salzach River

Mozartsteg  Bridge featured in the Sound of Music

FORTRESS HOHENSALZBURG (SALT FORTRESS)

Mozartplatz

Salzburg (meaning "Salt Fortress") is a city of dreaming spires. During the 8th century, barges carried salt on the Salzach river (subject to toll) from the south. Mines that were rich in salt, gold and other ores enabled the Prince Archbishops to finance the elaborate architecture that made Salzburg a UNESCO World Cultural Heritage site. Architects were imported from various other cities and the Baroque building boom left the city with a large number of palaces, towers and churches. Sacred monuments outnumbered secular buildings so Salzburg became known as "Rome of the North".

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born in Salzburg. (It was a pity we never got to see his house). According to local legend, Mozart was once fired by Count Arco (Prince Archbishop) for being disrespectful. After Mozart found fame in Vienna and Prague (especially after his death) Salzburg started to welcome his fame.. Salzburg lost her independence after the Napoleonic war and hit hard times. It was the end of the salt trade. They became a new province of Austria. They had to market their heritage to attract tourists. Mozart sculptures started appearing on public squares. Mozart balls (mozartkugel) were invented in the 19th century to tap on the tourist industry. What are Mozart balls? Chocolates. Sweet, sweet chocolates, too sweet for my liking.

Mozartplatz

Salzburg Cathedral

Domplatz (Cathedral Square) in front of Salzburg Cathedral baroque Dom - a beautiful church with a troubled history - fire, war (surrounded by Residenz Castle and St Peter's Abbey and Prince Archbishop's other secular administrative buildings)

Residenzbrunnen fountain Residenplatz

The Residenz-quarters  once home to the prince archbishops

Franziskanerkirche behind this square

There were something like five interconnecting squares and a whole lot more to see. We wandered aimlessly from one square to the other until we came upon this man standing on a golden orb, gazing up at the castle. We had arrived at Kapitelplatz. This was a 2007 piece of public art commissioned by a foundation Kapitelplatz  from the top

A group of tourists were queuing up for the funicular service. We joined the queue to get our tickets after which we were herded into a small cable car which dragged us up to the Fortress.

Fortress

Fortress

Taken from a bench where I was resting
at the Fortress

Salzach River

ancient backdoors

Sound of Music

medieval weapons

St George Church

Fortress courtyard sustains up to 1000 residents

Kuenburg Bastion

FESTUNGSBERG HIKE

The fortress was extensive. After wandering around aimlessly and pointing our cameras at anything that doesn't move, we reached the back part of the fortress. A cafe restaurant occupied this space. It had a beautiful view. Now under normal circumstances, I would have liked to stop for a cuppa. However, the rest of us were anxious to keep moving, so we kept moving, walking along the hiking path on the Festungsberg Mountains where the Fortress is situated.

Built during the 30 years war (1618-1648) between Bavaria, Austria and Bohemia

Prince Archbishop Paris Lodron increased taxes to build these fortification walls

The increased taxes resulted in a famine

... but Salzburg lost not a single life in the war. Bavaria lost 1/3 of its population

The scenery was spectacular. I would have enjoyed this walk had it not been for the backward glances from Ms Walk-Faster. I had not intended to delay them but there I was huffing and puffing from the effort of keeping up. It was cold on this day so I had worn a track bottom which wasn't a good idea because the fabric was rubbing against the bruises on my knee. The hiking path wound around the Festungsberg Mountains, climbing and descending gentle slopes.

Mr Nice-Guy (bless his soul) was most considerate. Aware that we were lagging behind, he slowed down his pace to engage in a casual chat with his friend. (They were old school chum, you understand?)

Ms Walk-Faster turned around, noticed her husband way, way at the back with us, stopped in her tracks and waited for us to catch up. When we were within ear-shot, she chided her husband.

"Why are you walking so slowly? The children are far away in front. They won't wait for you!"

A tad contrite, I urged Mr Nice-Guy to go ahead, telling him we'll return to the hotel on our own. My head was heavy and my eye-lids were burning, indicating of course, that a fever is just around the corner.

"Mummy ... why do you talk this way?" Mr Nice-Guy groaned as he picked up his pace. Our two groups separated.

Museum der Modene

We looked for a path to take us down to the old town below. There were several but they looked challenging. Finally we found an elevator near the Museum der Modene which took us down for a fee.

The old town below was something else. I was feeling ill and in no mood to take pictures. Outdoor cafe restaurants occupied an open space with trams and buses operating on the outer perimeter. The tables were placed close to each other. We took a table outside an Italian restaurant at the open square. The air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. We were surrounded by smokers of all size and denomination. I was quite ready to crash, so we decided to return to the hotel with packed lunch instead. Along a narrow lane adjacent to the Italian restaurant was a little bakery managed by a middle-aged woman. We packed some chicken kebab sandwiches and asked her for direction to the nearest bus stand from where we could board the no: 5 bus.  We were just two streets away.  We followed the crowd until we found ourselves on a long narrow street running parallel to the river in the center of town. I leaned on the wall outside a grocery while my husband picked up some lemons. (for our sore-throat) Stopping at the nearest bus stand, we waited for Number 5 to appear.

We reached Pension Herbert at 1 pm. I dropped my bag, crashed feverishly onto the bed and was sound asleep in no time. 

It was 3.30 pm when I woke up with the hunger pangs. After lunch (chicken kebab sandwiches), I dropped back to sleep until dinner. (packed hot-dogs from the cafe down the road)  I went back to bed after dinner. The coughing spasms began.

Oh ... Woe is me!

There was so much to see in Salzburg. We did not explore all the squares near the Salzburg Cathedral. Nor did we see Mozart's house, where he was born. We missed the Mirabell Garden, where Maria and the Trapp kids (The Sound of Music) ran down the hedge arcade. Oh ... and the mountains!

Now that I have recovered from the flu, I wished that I could turn back time just to see a little bit more of Salzburg, just a little bit more ... but that would be asking for too much, wouldn't it?

Day 4 - Graz / Salzburg (Part 2)

The family of five left no stone unturned on the hill. I thought so because it was a long time before they returned. Our flu bug was having the upper hand and wearing us down by now. Schlossbergplatz was not short of tourists. A steady stream kept the pace so we had much to see seated as we were on the bench outside the tunnel leading to the elevator.

We were glad to see the five of them descending the 260 stone steps. Ms Walk-Faster was left far behind from the other four so she was the last to return. "Trouble with the knees", I whispered to my husband.

Standing by the fountain in the middle of Schlossbergplatz with the 260 steps behind us, we wondered if we should walk to the left or the right. Across from us was the passage we came from this morning.  Mr Seventeen looked at his IPad and led us towards the Holy Trinity Church on the right and beyond. After a few hundred meters, he paused. "There's nothing to see here. Let's go the other way."

Schlossbergplatz

The "other way" was the narrow street to the left from the fountain at Schlossbergplatz. It was lined with interesting buildings on both sides.

HAUPTPLATZ (MAIN SQUARE)

Suddenly, we came upon a rapturous sight in an open space in front of the City Hall. (Rathaus). Built in 1878, the main square was pretty much a "happening" place. It is the hub link to the major streets. A live band was beating up some buoyant tune. Hey! I know that tune. It's the "Norwegian Cuckoo Bird song".

Hauptplatz 

Rathaus (City Hall)

Archduke Johann fountain
 Four female figures around him symbolize the rivers Mur, Enns, Drava and Sann

Farmer's Market Promoting pine wood

Live Band

Swarovski facing Hauptplatz

Landeszeughaus Armoury weaponry, artifact

The walls between two different building blocks were narrow passages which connects the back of the building (and beyond) to the front. Archways with intricate carvings (like the one above) marked the entrance.

LANDHAUS COURTYARD

Entering one of these archways (I knew not which),  Tweedle-Dum led us through a maze of narrow passages until we arrived at an open courtyard packed with tourists looking up at the facade. At this point, bells were ringing.

Landhaus Courtyard

Landhaus Courtyard

"Nothing here," Tweedle-Dum exclaimed before leading us out of this maze of passages back to Hauptplatz.

At this point, I might add that I felt like one of the children following the Pied Piper of Hamelin to obscurity. We do not know where we were going except to follow wherever that took us. Entering another archway directly opposite a bus stand at Hauptplatz, we walked into a narrow passage between the walls of two separate blocks of building to appear at an open space (Mehlplatz) which connected us to a narrow street.

Passage between building

Storm drains Mehlplatz

Turning right here, Tweedle-Dum led us past a narrow street into Glockenspielplatz. Tourists from all over visited Carillon Glockenspiel Graz to witness the famous carillon which came to life daily with a song and a rotating wood carved couple at 11 am, 3 pm and 6 pm. The dancing figures are in traditional costume. They have been turning to the sound of the chimes for almost 100 years. We were late by 10 minutes so we missed the 11 am song and dance. I'd hoped that we could hang around for the 3 pm performance but we had to leave for Salzburg so ...

Glockenspielplatz

Back at Hauptplatz, Ms Walk-Faster wanted to check out the Swarovski outlet so they went that a- way. We chose an outdoor table under a canopy next to the tram lines at the Gina Pizzaria and ordered some hot tea and a large pizza. The pizza was mediocre but we weren't hungry. We just needed some place to rest. Smokers around us puffed their lungs away.. The Herrengasse (street outside the cafe restaurant) was busy with shoppers, students and tourists. Church bells were ringing at short intervals. The live band at the Hauptplatz gave a certain revelry to the occasion. There can be no rest when you are right smack in the midst of such a hullabaloo .

It was pleasant sitting under the sun by the side of the street  watching the world go by. Trams came and go. Leashed dogs and their handler walked unhurriedly towards the Herrengasse (street) unperturbed by the hustle and bustle of the Hauptplatz (main square with the Farmer's Market). Young people (probably students) looked at their watches as they waited impatiently for the trams. The elderly sat on benches at the tram stand, some dozing off despite the noise.

The cherries in the farmer's box looked good. EUR3.90/kilo.  We picked a kilo's worth while the farmer chatted amiably,  The nectarine and apricot, said the farmer, were from France so we bought a couple too. The cherries were sweet. The nectarines and apricots were not.

Occupying a vacant bench at the tram stand, we waited for the family of five to reappear outside the Swarovski outlet. About an hour after noon, we spotted them.

It was time to check out. We returned to the hotel, collected our luggage, popped them into the rented vehicle and drove to Salzburg with Mr Nice-Guy behind the wheels. (The nominated driver, my husband, was drowsy from the cough syrup.)

Numerous tunnels and picturesque scenery kept up our "oohs!" and "ahhs" along the Interstate Highway to Salzburg. I saw a lake town complete with boathouses, sailing boats and rustic homes and wondered what it was like to live in one of those.

Isolated Farmhouse I wondered about WIFI coverage in a place like this.

distant mountains

We left Graz at 2.30 pm,and arrived at Salzburg at 6pm. Looking at the narrow small town streets, you cannot help thinking that you have entered a little town where everybody knows each other. Vienna, by comparison was metropolitan, and Graz? ... Graz was just ... Graz.

Our accommodation this time was at the Pension Herbert, an interesting two-storey brick and concrete house in a quiet neighborhood owned by a man called Herbert. He was not there to greet us but his wife welcomed us warmly. After the keys were handed over to us, his wife ushered us into the dining room. Clearing a table, she spread out a map and pointed out all the tourist spots, telling us precisely which bus we should catch.

"There are two places in Salzburg that you must not miss," she continued. "First is the mountains.. Drive there. Order a drink at a cafe, enjoy the air and the view. After that, visit the Trick Fountain. You must not miss the Trick Fountain."

"The dining room will be opened for breakfast at 8 am in the morning," she added. "For dinner tonight,, you can go to a cafe restaurant just down the road on the left, or take the Number 5 bus downtown where there is plenty of choice."

Armed with brochures and maps, we retired to our respective rooms. We had previously bought a kilogram of cherries at the Graz Farmer's Market. Keeping one third for ourselves, we handed the remaining two-thirds to the family of five.

The next important matter on our agenda was Dinner. We decided to dine at the cafe restaurant down the road while the rest were anxious to explore downtown Salzburg. 

"They are dining at the cafe down the road," Mr Nice-Guy told his wife as he pointed at us.

"The children wished to go downtown," Ms Walk-Faster protested. Turning towards my husband, she added, "Oh, you're tired?"

"I am tired!" Mr Nice-Guy cried, raising his voice.

I had to intervene. "Its okay. you guys go ahead. We're down with the flu so we'll eat nearby then return to our room to sleep."

They joined us..

Opposite Pension Herbert

Quiet neighborhood

We walked out of Pension Herbert and turn left at the hedge enclosing the building.(picture above: left) The streets were deserted. Opposite these houses (picture above: right) was a cemetery. I recognized the colossal arched gate. The cemetery was walled up but large trees stood majestically within it's ground. I shuddered for it was cold and humid. (Temperature: 21 deg C - 11 deg C)

The restaurant was located on a small lane across from the walled cemetery. We settled into our tables and studied the menu. The family of five sat around two square tables at a corner. We took the adjoining table. Ms Walk-Faster who was unusually gifted in protocols separate our table so as not to confuse the waiter. 

Joining our table, Mr Seventeen said, "I'll sit over here. It's less crowded."

"No! You get back here. We have to ask for separate bills," cried Ms Walk-Faster.

The young waiter appeared to take our orders.

"Please separate our bills. They are not with us," she explained as she pointed at us.

Deep Fried breaded chicken Delicious!

Dinner 8 pm

I have to say this. The deep fried breaded chicken was delicious. I couldn't finish it because I wasn't supposed to. I had a mean sore-throat and really, there weren't much choice. The menu wasn't extensive. We left the food unfinished, paid our "separate" bill and returned to the hotel, ready to drop like a sack of potatoes.

The wooden stairs going up to our room creaked loudly so you can appreciate the age of the building. Despite its age, the rooms were well maintained and clean. The window in our room looked directly at another entrance to the walled cemetery, it's arched ornate gate shut tight to ensure the privacy of their occupants. I wondered where Ginger was buried.

Late that night, after we turned in, Mr Nice-Guy knocked on our door just to check if we were okay or if we needed anything. I thought that was considerate and kind of him. He had been "checking on us" regularly since we caught the flu bug.

Meanwhile, another night crept quietly into the shadows. We slept fitfully. The neighborhood was as silent as the grave ...

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