30 hours in Salzburg

27 March 2009 | No Comments

Clearly just a simple day trip to France on a magical train that goes beneath the sea isn’t enough adventure for one week. So I added in 30 hours in Salzburg two days later, taking my inexplicably heavy rucksack with me on the magic metal tube that flies in the sky.

I was met at the airport by my friend and his father and having barely set foot in Austria, I was then taken to Germany. We needed to look at pressure washers and apparently Germany is the place for that. It turns out that DIY shops smell the same world over. And that’s why I travel. To find out stuff like that and then let you know. I also do it to stand in shops and laugh along with nice ladies who say things to me of which I do not understand a single word.

In the evening we went to the book presentation. I’d also made sure that a couple of friends had been invited, but not told them that I’d be going too. The sight of their dropped jaws when they came into the room was worth the air fare alone.

The next day there was some snowfall, some sunshine and it was a good day. We bought fancy cakes and apple juice and headed to a studio across town for the boys to do some work. I worked too. If we’re defining work as: sitting on the sofa either eating chocolate truffle cake or listening to great music with my eyes closed.

Later on nature called and I asked if there was a loo. He gave me directions back to the loo we’d passed on our way in, even telling me which swing door to push open and which was locked. Taking it in, I headed to the door and said, “Come and look for me if I’m not back in 30 minutes.” “I’ll give you 15,” he replied, “… now 14.”

I stood outside the door for a few panicked moments, trying to remember the direction from which we’d come. Suddenly it came back to me and leaving the door open as a marker I set off. Cursing my lack of breadcrumbs. I made it to the loo, remembering the landmarks of cupboards and typewriters in the corridor. Ensconced on the loo, trying to tinkle quietly in the empty building – an impossibility, by the way, on a continental toilet – I was in another panic, completely unable to visualise what was beyond the door I’d just shut. I’m really not kidding when I say I have no sense of direction. Then I remembered … forgot … and fortunately remembered again.

Safely back in the dark studio I grinned at him as I sat back down on the sofa. “I made it!”. He looked at the clock on his laptop and said, “With 11 minutes to go.” It was getting late now and I was soon starting to make sure my rucksack was ready for departure to the airport. We arranged that we’d leave in about half an hour. “That gives you time to go to the loo 8 times at the speed you go.”