Trip to Salt Mountain

Last Saturday morning we headed for Salzburg in northwestern Austria on the Budapest-to-Zurich"Railjet" train, which sailed along at 160 kph. At noon, we disembarked as the train stopped for one whole minute at the Salzburg station. Leaving the warm, well-lit car and stepping onto the windy station platform was like getting out of a comfy bed, awaking to a cold room, and putting bare feet on a stone floor. The mountains that the city nestles against were wholly obscured by clouds, and all we could see at street level was urban jungle: snow-dirty taxis and buses splashing through puddly streets, crowded parking lots, a rundown strip mall, and hotels, apartments, and banks--modern buildings rising from a few to several stories high. Bundled and hunched against the wind, we must have looked like a couple of cloth-clad gorillas, released to territory unfamiliar to them, staring, wandering, looking up, turning slowly in partial circles. We knew the hotel was close to the station, so we wandered the shiny wet streets, stepping around puddles and icy slush while stinging droplets of rain blew into our faces. At last we saw the sign for the Radison, our tree home for the night. We trundled up and shuffled through the revolving door into a bright, warm lobby. Check-in was a simple affair thanks to the good English skills of the head clerk--the first one, with a "trainee" badge, was enjoying a prolonged attack of hiccups, audible across the cavernous lobby. She was quite obviously embarrassed about it, especially in front of her boss, which made it all the more difficult for us to suppress smiles--along with a wish to ask her whether she was welcoming us with an Austrian folk song. Soon we had information on the public transit system and a map of the city. Amazing how at last becoming oriented in an unfamiliar place did much to let us ignore the weather, too, and ready us for exploring.

It was about a mile walk to the old city. Along the way we passed seedy casinos and a sado-masochism toy shop, which had a marvelous window display that included videos, pink fur handcuffs, 6"-stilleto heels, leather straps, men's and women's undergarments that beggar description in this a family blog, and a variety of scented oils and unguents probably to be applied after a customer is injured by various of the other instruments sold here. In a few blocks more we passed a booth marketing "Sound of Music Tours"--a movie, we have read, that the Austrians ignore or dislike, reportedly because it is so anti-Nazi. In the spring, however, we'll return to Salzburg with plans to take that tour; we are told that tour guides on the bus sometimes lead tour groups in singing "Edelweiss," "The Hills Are Alive," and "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?" We are both most eager for this experience. We have read, too, that despite the belief of many Americans that "Edelweiss" is the Austrian national anthem, most Austrians are wholly unfamiliar with it. The movie, when it opened, had at least month-long plays all across Europe, except for Austria, where the lone Vienna theater showing it closed it after a week. Still, I have to admire the Austrians for cashing in on the story nonetheless. We soon stopped for lunch at a restaurant featuring the usual unimaginative Austrian and faux Italian cuisine, and in a few more blocks we were at the river. Crossing the bridge was like going through a wind tunnel with fine, Arctic rain. Then we passed through a stone archway, and the old city, crowded with Christmas shoppers, opened before us. The change in atmosphere was like stepping from the street into the bright, warm hotel lobby an hour before.

If there can be such a thing as a modern medieval city, it is Salzburg. Heavily bombed in World War II, the old city nevertheless retains its narrow, winding, cobblestone streets. Fragments of centuries-old buildings survive in walls, and a few structures from earlier centuries, such as the 18th-century house where Mozart was born, remain intact. Much of the character of the city, however, comes from the shops, which are filled with German and Austrian crafts: cuckoo clocks; Austrian-made hats, shoes, boots, and jackets; furs; water-color scenes of the city; handmade glass ornaments painted with local scenes inside and out; candles, creches, and wreaths; chocolates and breads and cakes of many designs and shapes; and an abundance of shops selling pretzels the size of dinner plates. Black iron signs that are icons for the stores--as can also be seen at times in Vienna--are suspended over their entrances: roosters, chimney sweeps, elephants, birds, and more. Green garlands and strings of lights crisscross above the narrow streets. On a mountain above the city rests the Fortress, a huge white castle (which, we have read, has served as the setting for various American movies); our walk up the mountain provided a fine view of the city below, though clouds continued to obscure the mountains throughout our stay.

Late in the afternoon, we made the mistake of returning to our hotel rather than finding a restaurant downtown. Although there was probably something edible in the S&M shop, our hotel's neighborhood offered little. Our query at the reception desk produced recommendations with little promise: the overpriced and pretentious hotel coffee shop, a Chinese restaurant, and what would have been a top-notch Austrian restaurant, though it was full and required reservations. We ended up a block or two from the hotel in a simple neighborhood joint, which turned out to be delightful. Stiegl's was tiny and crowded with families and groups of friends, with wooden chairs that scraped on the floor and tables whose scarred tops that had seen many a meal; a bar humming with customers abutted the dining area. It was light, warm, and noisy--a happy place, with a waitress who had a smile for every person at every table, and who seemed to enjoy our mixing English and German with her.

Sunday morning found us back in the old city at the Christmas markets and staring into beautiful, brightly lit shop windows. Linda returned with wreaths and ornaments--and bought me an Austrian hat. I looked stunning in it even though my ears were turning black from frostbite. After lunch, we were back on the train--and blessedly, uneventfully, home by evening.