As the lunch hour drew near, we were having little luck spotting restaurants in any of the towns, though we did see a man cross the road in front of us carrying a dead chicken. Finally, in Riegersberg, we saw a sign to a castle, built in the 1730s, that advertised a cafe inside the compound. We had the small parking lot to ourselves; there were no other visitors in sight. Unlike the geometric, green and yellow fields of the countryside, the green of the castle grounds was weedy and clumpy, and the yellow was provided by dandelions that were scattered over it like so many pimples; the structure looked to be in poor repair, with the mortar between stones beginning to crumble and paint peeling on the doorways. After walking through a small courtyard, we saw another sign to the cafe and entered a dark anteroom through a huge, creaking door with a large, square lockplate and rusty handle. Still there was no sign of life. I tried a door labeled "Cafe" and found it locked. As we started to stroll back to the car, we heard the door creak open and turned around to see a young woman rubbing her eyes with her fists as if she had just awakened. I thought she might have been asleep in her coffin and had not planned to arise until sundown. We turned back and greeted her, and she led us through two more rooms onto a sunny lawn, where we sat at a table under a tree next to a black lagoon. Our lunch wraith--probably fearing the sunlight--disappeared back into the castle, leaving us to the shade tree and humming bees, buzzing insects, and birds singing in the local dialect; we remarked that it was like sitting in a cemetery without tombstones. Several minutes later she returned and handed us each a menu; it quickly became apparent that she spoke no German and no English, and, although we never determined whether she knew any language at all, we suspected that she might be fluent in Czech, and that the entire village was Czech--despite our certainty at being on the Austrian side of the border. To simplify communication, Linda and I, using a single menu, pointed one by one at menu selections. At each the waitress shook her head No, and then she pointed to one selection and said "Toast," thus exhausting her English vocabulary. Okay, two orders of toast. We turned to the drinks list with much the same effect: our only choice was coffee or water. While we waited for our order (which turned out to be a cold, though toasted, cheese sandwich with a thin slice of cold ham), I pondered how to communicate that I wished to use the restroom, which was not in sight. I rejected the idea of using hand gestures and other body language since I didn't want to frighten the waitress or get arrested; fortunately, she got the drift of my words, and she pointed toward a door and said "Links" (left), thus exhausting her German vocabulary. Then she handed me a 4-inch-long key to unlock the restroom door--which turned out to be another huge, authentic 18th-century entryway. (The facility, nonetheless, was clean and modern, though I was frightened to notice that there was no mirror.) We consumed our coffee, water, and Niederoesterreich cuisine. The charge came to 12 euros, and the waitress had to write the number down because, we gathered, she did not know how to say it in German. We exited, boldly striding out, not slowly walking backwards as good sense would have dictated.
Although I don't think we got to sample the best of Niederoesterreich cuisine, we were, I suppose, lucky to find something to eat. In German class on Monday, we mentioned to our teacher our surprise at the absence of humanity in the villages. She told us that it is typical of the Czechs in that area to retire to their homes on Saturday afternoons and simply stay indoors the whole time, even on a sunny, lovely Saturday in May. I suspect, however, that whatever they are doing indoors involves a dead chicken.
Filler
Maypoles. Each little village that we drove through had its own maypole, a wooden shaft like a telephone pole but twice as high, with what looked like a Christmas tree tied on at the top. According to our German instructor, the pole is erected and decorated with ribbons on May 1 while young men and women of the village dance around it to an oompah band. The poles must be guarded all night because it is customary for the young men from a nearby village to try to sneak in and cut it down. If they succeed, "the men of the village lose their power."
Fuel. Gasoline prices are about $9/gallon, though we are fortunate to get an Embassy discount that takes off the taxes, which amount to about half the gallon price. No such break for an oil change, however. At the Toyota dealership this week:
Oil (3.7 liters): $148.02
Oil filter gasket: $1.65
Oil filter: $13.15
Labor: $37.80
Disposal of old oil: $4.50
"Gratis Car Wash": 0.00
Tax: $41.01
Total: $246.13
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