Friday, 22 July, 2011 – The plan was to board the train for Salzburg (think
The Sound of Music) as soon as Ashley and Ian got off work. Well, at least my work with OP has given me plenty of experience in dealing with situations that don’t go according to plan. A minor fanny pack fiasco which involved a lost passport, credit/debit cards, ID, money, and the house address and door code detained me a bit longer than intended. Realizing I was going to miss my rendezvous, I was at least able to forewarn Ashley and try and organize her meeting Ian and continuing on without me for the time being. Close, but no cigar. They missed each other by minutes and I gather would have been waiting on the opposite ends of the room anyway. Next adaptation: try and find where Ashley had disappeared to and send Ian on ahead. Check and check. Having done everything I could for the time to remedy this minor disaster, Ashley and I caught the next train out to Salzburg.
Unfortunately we still didn’t get there until 9:00pm. More unfortunately, in my slightly frazzled state earlier I had left the directions to our accommodation in the printer. But I had a pretty good mental image of where it was and after a little poking around I figured out what bus we needed to take to get there and successfully navigated us thither. As none of us had eaten, we caught the bus to the old town and started ravenously roaming. It was surprisingly (compared to how early a lot of Vienna shuts down) still bustling down there so we thought finding a good place to eat would be a breeze. There were places to eat aplenty, but none of them served food by the time we arrived, only evening drinks. But we finally came across a place with a “late night” menu, Humboldt Stubn, charmingly situated just below the cliff which borders the southern and western sides of the old town. The smokers that sat on all sides of us were less charming, but at least we were outside, and the food was surprisingly good (and I don’t think it was just because we were so hungry). Getting back after was a little more difficult, however. Yes, as advertised, our room was ten minutes from the old town. By bus. The buses stopped running at midnight. It ended up being closer to a forty minute walk, and that’s if you knew where you were going. To test my navigation skills a bit, Kolpinghaus, where we were staying, was further north than what showed on the map we were given. But combining that with another index card they gave us which showed the bus route there (without streets, mind you), I got us back with little issue, even if it took closer to an hour. Hey, at least we walked off dinner, right? And it
was a nice night, which afforded us a neat evening view of the city.
Saturday, 23 July, 2011 - We were eager to make up for lost time on Saturday but didn't have much in the way of a game plan other than a list of places to see, thus we started out at Mozartplatz in the old town. We got a Salzburg Card which got us into every museum or place of interest with an entrance fee for free, a boat ride down the Salzach River, and all public transportation for 24 hours.
**My observation: unless you have your day well planned to make use of all of this, don't spend €25 for the card. A 24 hour bus pass is €4 and the admission fees averaged out to €5 per place (student price). The boat ride would have been neat on a sunny day I think, but it was so grey out we didn't even do that. Just my two cents.**
We roamed, we explored, we saw beautiful things. Like Vienna, Salzburg also had a plethora (or herd... can one say "herd" when they're talking about a large number of horses if they're pulling carts?) of horses pulling faikers, but unlike Vienna about half the horses are Halflingers!
For those non-horse enthusiasts out there, they're a little mountain horse breed from Austria, always chestnut with a flaxen mane and tail. There's nothing in particular about them that should evoke unparalleled excitement, I think I was just thrilled because I'm not really sure that I've ever seen one in person before, and I also didn't realize until I saw them there that they must be an Austrian breed (which I later verified online); my seven-year-old concept of other countries where horse breeds originated from was limited to England, Germany, Iceland, and, of course, Arabia.
Okay, back to wandering through Salzburg: as the fiakers were lined up right outside, we went into the 17th century baroque Salzburg Cathedral. It was beautiful, of course, though I prefer gothic architecture to baroque, but it was pretty crowded with tourists gawking. Ian also discovered a promising crypt, but it turned out to be oddly modernized with a mini chapel I can only describe as “hip”, and some modern and interpretive art displays.
We then worked our way westwards, furtive glances at the sky in hopes that it was just taunting us and wasn’t actually planning on raining. We were (or at least I was) excited to come across what I had read was the oldest bookstore in the country, Eduard Höllrigl. I guess I was expecting something ancient and oozing history, but it had been refurbished and the walls plastered and you could only see the original (I assume) stone poking out in corners and the basement; it was neat to descend into a stone cellar complete with vaulted ceiling that was filled to the brim with books.
About that time I left Ashley and Ian to go pick up Steffi at the train station. I had learned from a coffee (well, tea for me) break earlier in the week that she was coming through Salzburg on her way home, and she wanted to stop off for the afternoon and asked if she could keep her cello in our room. She had also tipped me off to a concert up at Hohensalzburg Fortress on Saturday night that one of her friends Johanna, was playing in. Touristy, I know, but who can say no to a concert in a castle tower on a summer eve? Especially when I had met one of the performers (the one who dueted with Steffi for that private performance she had invited me to). On our way back to the old town after dropping off her cello, Steffi got a call from Johanna saying she was ill and wouldn’t be able to play that night; was there any chance Steffi could fill in for her? Lo and behold, Steffi had even brought her black performance gown on a whim, and had played for the conductor a couple of times before. Johanna was going to talk to the conductor, but odds were good that we’d actually get to see Steffi perform that night.
We got back to the old town about 1:00 and were debating our lunch options when the sky decided to make good on its earlier threats. That pretty much made the decision for us, and we ducked into the nearest decent-looking restaurant, Zum Mohren. The menu had a really upbeat little story about how the restaurant got its name from the moor that a Venice merchant brought to Salzburg in the 16
th century. It would seem that the locals found him very endearing as he served them their food and drinks; his spirit and gracefulness “is still alive in these walls.” I love how unnecessary it is to be PC in Austria (I can’t yet speak for the rest of Europe, so I’ll keep my generalizations local).
After lunch we went up to Petersfriedhof, St. Peter’s Cemetery and “catacombs”. I absolutely loved that cemetery, easily one of the prettiest I’ve seen and one of my favorite things in Salzburg, and I really don’t think it’s just my macabre tendencies speaking.
It was just such a shame that people were flooding through there. The cemetery abuts the cliff and up in the wall above are three windows, a tiny door, and the partial walls of a cave-room which seemed to be within the face of the cliff.
All I knew was that I wanted to get up there. Now, catacombs I tended to associate with underground chambers filled with bones that also as a refuge for Christians in hiding, and that’s what was supposedly at St. Peter’s. Ian was eager to find them, so I was going to set my sights on the windows aside for a moment, until we started following the “catacombs” signs which led us to the cliff, and I saw a staircase going up. I admit having to pay alongside everyone else to get to my windows took the fun out of the challenge a little bit, but then again it likely would have been blocked off otherwise and I wouldn’t have been able to see them at all unless I climbed along the narrow ledge I’d noted and forced the door. It turned out not to really be catacombs at all, but it was nonetheless really surreal treading the worn steps that monks in seclusion once ascended and seeing their living and worshiping chambers when it served as a hermitage in the early 1600s.
It was also a great view over the city, perhaps even better than the one from the castle since here we were eye level with the copper church domes and spires jutting up everywhere. About this time Steffi departed with our room key, having received another call from Johanna saying a backup cellist could fill in. That being the case she decided to continue on to Nürburg that night and wanted to be sure and catch the last train.
We then began a slow and easily-distracted-by-shops-with-Christmas-eggs meander towards Mozart’s childhood home and the Mirabell gardens. Seriously, these shops had some fantastic Christmas ornaments. (Years from now) when I have my own family and am in the market for Christmas tree decorations I would
love to come back to Salzburg and get them there. They had every color and you could mix and match styles and sizes within all of the color schemes, and they were all so ornate and delicate and just had a feel-good vibe to them. I suppose I’ll have to make sure I don’t have any cats that like to hide in Christmas trees (Zeke).
We did finally make it to the Mozart Wohnhaus (not too thrilling) and the gardens, but it was raining again and everyone walking through had their umbrella our, so that sort of marred the pristine garden scene that we may otherwise have beheld. Still, it was a nice garden with all sorts of coppices, statues, reflecting pools, terraces, and a green house, and Ian showed us where he had seen a traditional folk band performing the day before in a natural amphitheater.
It was about 6:00 by the time we finished our stroll so Ashley and Ian went on ahead to Bräustübl Tavern
to potentially save a table for dinner while I swung back by the train station to grab our key from Steffi. Having successfully done so and parted ways with Steffi, I found my way to what I thought was this monastery restaurant where they brewed their own beer. I was partially right. It turned out to be a set of four large dining rooms,
where you could get food from permanent stalls in the hallway connecting the halls, and you paid for the beer by choosing either a “small” or “large” stone beer stein and showing that at the cash register, then taking your receipt to a fellow at the back who would fill you up from a wooden cask. The three of us split a pork knee, which was surprisingly tasty, and a giant pretzel, then hoofed it back into town to make it up to the castle for the concert.
It was supposed to be an outdoor affair, but the weather being what it was they moved it up to The Golden Hall, one of the rooms in the top floor. It also afforded us our first overlook of the city, which was just as lovely after nightfall as it was at dusk. The sun was just setting as they played the opening chords, and the light reflecting off the clouds cast a really vibrant pink tinge on everything. They played works by the Mozarts, W.A. and his father, Leopold, and even produced a alpenhorn for one of the pieces.
I had had my heart set on Salzburger Nocherl ever since stepping foot in Salzburg, and I was kind of hoping to convince Ian and Ashley that it would be the perfect way to cap off a Saturday night after a concert in the castle. I don’t know how convinced they were, but they agreed to indulge me and we set out in search of the massive dessert. We again had a bit of trouble finding a place; we’d been told by multiple locals that Café Mozart was the best place, but it was closed by the time the concert finished. After more wandering we found ourselves back at Humboldt Stubn and were in luck. This, by the way, is what I had referred to earlier as the delicious dessert that had to wait for a picture because words just don’t do it justice.
I don’t think Ashley or Ian had believed me when I tried to describe how big it was, but between the three of us we managed to finish the delicacy which was “Suess wie die Liebe und zart wie ein Kuss,” or, “Sweet as love and tender as a kiss” for those of you who don’t know German.
We were again forced to trek back to our place as we missed the last bus, but at least it wasn’t raining any more and we were able to make it directly back without any detours. Thus ended our Salzburg Saturday.
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P.S. There's a giant chess board in Salzburg. Ian and I really wanted to duke it out, but there was a line.
P.P.S. For those of you on the edge of your seat after my question about the flaw in the facade last week, here's the answer: Latin didn't use periods or commas, much less exclamation points!
