Likes: Salzburg, History. Dislikes: Canadians.

Yesterday I got up early, around 730, to catch a nice early train to Salzburg. It was a two hour ride, and I slept for the first hour or so before striking up a conversation with the lady sitting in my compartment. She was really nice, and told me about the history of the area we went through, her trip with her husband in the USA on a Greyhound, and some other stuff. Before she got off at her stop right before mine, she pulled out a ten euro note and gave it to me. I tried to say no, but she insisted, saying that I could use it since I'm just a student. Nice lady.

Salzburg was gorgeous, but going so soon after exploring all over Vienna was a bad idea- I was a bit jaded already with pretty buildings. But Salzburg had a kind of small city appeal I haven't seen anywhere else. And looming above it all was a huge white fortress that was built by the powerful clergy since the 1300s. For some money you could take a train to the top of it all and look down over the entire city, which was totally gorgeous. I took around 200 pictures that day. I spent a lot of time just walking around the small village between the big churches and the small buildings. There was also some guy playing a didgeridoo. That was nice. I wanted to try, but he looked dirty. So I didn't. I got some sweet souvenirs, although my inability to buy lederhosen for under 200 euro put a huge damper on the trip. I really wanted a pair! Oh well. I'll look in Munich for an outlet store or something. I got to check out the house Mozart was born in (i was too late for the house he owned) and some other famous buildings/churches. I wanted to see some stuff from the Sound of Music, but paying to go on a tour of them without being dragged along by a girl would be an ego castration.

The most beautiful part of the city, if I had to choose, was the park, which had a bunch of flowery lines that looked like musical notes and a hedge maze. I found a nice spot to go take a sit-down to write in my Sorin journal that was idyllic. I also got to try my first Weiner schnitzel, which came with a salad and some kind of potato dish. I also had a beer, don't tell my parents. I ate it all at this tiny little restaurant with a couple of tables in an alleyway near the main square. It was about half the price of the restaurants on the river, which I think I would need a collared shirt to eat in them anyways. I got really homesick all of a sudden while in Salzburg, and really inexplicably when... Well, let me preface this. My family doesn't do stuff like this. I don't know what it was. But anyways, before dinner I walked around the main church and heard some commotion. I saw some guy (I think Australian) pushing a group of Asian tourists. He was holding his little girl back protectively, yelling "She's a HUMAN BEING! Not something you can just take!" Then, to the Asian lady nearest him: "And YOU! You are a STUPID, stupid person!" I have no idea what happened, but the guy's son, walking around with a nice pair of man-pris on, looked confused. Anyways, that was just kinda weird. But I got homesick. The schnitzel and potatoes cured that though.

On the way back, I sat with yet another old Austrian woman, and we talked about pretty much the same topics as I talked about with the first old lady (some might blame my small vocabulary, but I think Austrians just have one-track minds). We chatted about accents and learning German, until about fifteen minutes before getting to the train station in Vienna. The she started talking politics, and how nobody in Europe likes the US government. It was awkward because I didn't know what to say back, literally.

I got back and went to bed, because this morning I had to catch another early train to Mauthausen. It was a different sort of destination from the rest. It isn't too old, and I didn't expect it to be pretty or fun. Built in the forties, it was a Nazi camp with (I think) one of the highest fatality rates among all of the camps. It wasn't very big, but it was powerful. I took a taxi from the station with some Canadians, so we split the 10 euro charge.

Coming up to the camp the first thing I noticed was how pretty the area around it was. I spent a lot of time in the monument park looking at the sculptures different countries had erected in memory of their fallen soldiers. There was a monument from every country in Europe. The USA didn't have one, we just had a plaque on the inside with a bunch of others. I kinda liked that. Even though we lost a good number of people (we freed the camp), erecting a monument among the other ones about all of the innocent people that died inside would be... I don't know, not the best route. Anyways, in front and besides the camp was this huge ditch. Leading down was a huge set of stairs called the death stairs, and at the bottom was this large pastoral area with two small lakes and some plaques. I was awed by the beauty, but then I found out that this was a quarry that had been hollowed out by the prisoners, who would be forced to sprint up the stairs with a 100 kilo brick in makeshift backpacks. I was about to fall over just walking up the steps, so hauling 100 kilos of stone up at a run is unimaginable for me. The stairs were built to be more difficult to climb: each step was slightly different from the rest, and many were small and slanted back so it was difficult to climb up.

After I caught my breath I went into the camp. It was a desolate place, not too touristy. I had one of the ubiquitous audio guides that are held like a phone up to the ear, and you punch in numbers to hear about different parts of the camp. It was all pretty cool. The most intense part was when I went down through the jail and the barracks and into the building with the gas chambers. The chambers (there were two) were two small, tiled rooms with pipes running through the top. The pipes had holes in them, and there were closed vents on the top. The room had an indescribably intense energy that seemed to weigh down the soul. You know this is legit because usually this kind of stuff doesn't get to me. Everyone was subdued, but looking everywhere furtively, trying to make sense of the room they were in. There was a huge bare brick room next to the gas chambers with huge concrete pillars and a bare dirt floor. It was poorly lit, and connected to the rest of the museum. I took two or three steps into the room and I was honestly the most scared I can remember being. Nobody else was there with me in the basement, all of them having moved on (there was no guided tour, just walking at my own leisure) to somewhere else. After a few steps the uneasiness and foreboding that I felt exploded. I got light headed and the room started to spin, my vision distorted and I felt like I was being chased by something. Needless to say I booked it out of that room. Lucky me, the next room was the crematorium. Sarcasm aside, I was lucky in that there was some foreign guy who brought me back to earth with a "what the hell are you doing" look as I left the room at an quick, awkward pace. Looking back, he hesitated for a few seconds before entering the room as well. The crematory doesn't really need to be talked about. It's just something that no matter how much you think about it, when it's there in front of you, you just aren't ready for it. To see it there is too much to take. I had to go upstairs (not through the brick room, mind you) and looked through the exhibits (all in German) and photos. I still have no idea what that brick room was used for. I'll look it up later when all of this isn't so fresh in my head.

Anyways, while I was doing all of this I lost track of time. The Canadian Mother I rode in with had mandated that we should all meet back up together at 2:10 because the cab was coming back at 2:15. That was just two hours to explore the camp, but whatever, I don't want to pay ten euro for a cab ride and I DEFINITELY do not want to walk. So I'm a little late, and I am at a point where I can see the meeting point at 2:10, about 100 yards away. I get to the spot at 2:12, thinking "Oh, they must be late." Nope. They were early, and left without me. I had no map and no idea where to go, and I knew that the train station was about 6 or so kilometers away. Anyways, they were gone, and no more taxis came. I almost tried to hitch a ride with a family or some old people, but figured I might as well see the city. So I walked. In smaller towns, everything closes in Europe, so there was no food or drink to be had. It was a long, hot, boring hour of just walking, no breaks. I was proud of myself, this is the fittest I've been in a long time. Which is sad.

Anyways, Mauthausen the city is really nice. It's kind of like a wealthy American suburb with large, albeit differently styled, houses. I walked and walked, eventually I got back to the station and got my train back the Vienna. And now I am here, writing this and eating an entire pizza folded in half like a taco. C'est la vie.