Two Can Play This Game

It is 6:54am as I start to write this.  Why so early?, you ask.  Well, I was sleeping just fine, having nice dreams of sitting on a beach on some faraway island when I was suddenly awoken by that which haunts me day and night.  What terror is this?  It has no earthly name, having been forged by the Devil himself in the depths of Hell.  Some of you may remember mentioning my Colombian guitarist flatmate who's preparing for a recital - remember that piece he was working on a month ago?  Yeah, he still can't play it, and today he's decided to let me wake to the wonders of a new day with his serenade.  I've yet to hear him play the first 10 seconds of the piece without making a mistake, which means, on average, he plays that part about 20 times before moving on to the next section.  I still don't know how the piece ends, because I don't think he's ever reached that part.  Granted, the poor guy was paralyzed for a few days and had to relearn how to play his instrument, but still, you think he'd have it down pat by now.  6.54am.  The day I met him, I was trying to be as cordial and friendly as possible, and in the spirit of accommodation, I allowed him to practice in the room instead of banishing him to the basement rehearsal rooms.  I had visions of Pepe Romero gracefully playing Rodrigo and flamenco classics.  But no, I have found the only guitarist in the world who knows only a single song.  Worst of all, it's a catchy song, so I find myself whistling it whilst walking down the street, or humming it in the shower.  6.54am.  Tomorrow's his sleep-in day, but I'm always up early for Mass on Sundays.  Tomorrow, I think my speakers are going to be in the mood for Wagner's Götterdammerung, at 6:54am, of course.

In other news, the Strudel place was yesterday was one of the best finds here in Salzburg. After walking around a busy courtyard, we found the entrance tucked away in a corner.  We descended a few steps and walked into a quaint café that seemed it was right out of 1950's Americana.  Soft green painted woodwork, vaulted ceilings, a chrome plated bar, sundae-looking glasses sitting on mirror-backed shelves behind the counter, stools and small tables, old fashioned coffee makers, and a bright display of the Strudels of the day: apple, apple and plum, blueberry and cream cheese, poppy and hazelnut, and 1 or 2 more that I can't remember.  There were 6 of us at the table, and I think we each ordered something different.  I opted for the apple and plum Strudel with vanilla sauce, which is like a custard, and a mint hot chocolate.  My Strudel was served in a bowl, nearly covered in the sauce, and topped with powdered sugar, the hot chocolate with a dollop of fresh whipped cream.  Exquisite.  Hands down, the best Strudel I've had.  It was the perfect combination of tart and sweet, the vanilla sauce was creamy, the pastry crisp, and the hot chocolate was beyond words.  Being a little out of the way, I felt this place was not on the usual tourist's list of places to visit, so it had a bit more of an authentic, local feel.  I will certainly be returning as often as I can to try all of their Strudels, which change daily.  What a great, little café!

This afternoon, after some morning paperwork and writing a few postcards, a few of us will be attending a choral concert in the Benedictine Nonnberg Abbey, which many will know as "Maria's" abbey from The Sound of Music (yup, it actually exists!), before heading to a small Christmas market as all the Church bells in the city sound for the start of Advent.  The Chapel interior isn't the same used in the film, unfortunately, but the outside is right out of the film.  I was thinking about that movie yesterday, and how Austrians have little or no interest in watching it, believing it is wholly the fabrication of American kitschy values thrown onto Dirndl-wearing children who simply run around their city singing all day.  While there's probably some truth to that, I actually think The Sound of Music does a pretty bang up job of illustrating some of the highest points of Austrian culture and being.  Looking at some of the major themes of the film, one can find a lot of messages that are very important to Austrians, even today.  Austria existing as an independent, individual nation and not in the shadow of "big brother" Germany, a deep respect and love for the wilderness and the spirit of adventure, an integral relationship with music, an unwavering sense of tradition, a nostalgic grasp of the past, and an emphasis on the family.  These are not stereotypes, and they are not kitschy.  These are the values that Austrians, at least those living in Salzburg, hold.  While children aren't climbing trees in old curtains-turned Lederhosen, the fiber of their character, the spirit in which they are portrayed, I think, is quite apt, and a testament to some of what's great about Austria.

"We've come to see Maria, Sister Marghereta."

A lot of my students ask why I, of all places, selected to come to Salzburg.  My first response is, "What do you think of your city," to which they usually respond simply with "It's okay.  It's home, so I'm used to it."  Used to it.  They laugh at all the tourists on the Sound of Music tour (in their defense, hearing a busload of Japanese tourists try and sing "Edelweiss" in broken English is hysterical), and while tourism can at times be a bit oppressive here, I think the reason people do visit is to experience those Austrian values from the film, mainly because when you come here, you feel those values.  They are not dead, not only featured in the film. Yes, you can visit the filming locations, which is great fun, but you can also see Dirndl and Lederhosen on a daily basis, and it's not a costume, it's what people wear.  You can hear Austrians getting angry when you mistake them for Germans.  There is always music being performed in each corner of the city.  The neighboring Alps are dotted with hikers, young and old, just going for their daily walk amongst nature.  More and more, you can hear people talking about the "golden years" of Austria under the crown, and families do everything together here, from a trip to Spain to a trip to McDonald's.  We might not have Captain and Maria von Trapp, but when you come here, it's like walking back in time, like walking into the film.  In that respect, it's unlike any other city I've visited, and I think that's why its allure has captured so many.  Each day, whether its when I look up at the fortress and the surrounding mountains, as I watch the rush of the river, as I walk the cobblestone Altstadt amidst 1000 year old buildings, as I hear the bells of an ancient Church, as I'm sharing a beer with friends in a crowded hall, my breath is taken away for a moment as I realize, "wow, I live in this fairy tale place."  Used to it.  I hope I don't stay here long enough to ever say that.   What a truly wonderful place to call home.

View into Bavaria from the front gate of Stift Nonnberg.