Ploughs, Puppets and Perchten

Rolling out of bed a little later than usual, I draw back the curtains to reveal the hotel courtyard, covered in perfect-white snow.  It isn't inches thick, but it's enough to make Salzburg appear picture-postcard perfect for our last full day in the city.

The snow ploughs are out in force when we reach the old town, bulky bright orange vehicles with massive shovels on their fronts.  Their role in the winter is absolutely crucial, keeping the arteries of the city clear for traffic.  It is obvious that those who operate these vehicles thoroughly enjoy their challenge, and who wouldn't - I think they look like great fun to drive.

Snow Plough hard at work

Our destination - and the weather really has made this the perfect day for it - is Festung Hohensalzburg, the city's fortress, which sits like a mighty crown on the Festungsberg Mountain, keeping careful watch over the city as it has done for over 700 years.  It is reached by way of a funicular, from which Salzburg's squares, spires, towers and rooftops fall away with some rapidity.  From the top, there is not an inch of the city hidden from view, and it is almost fairytale-like to look over.

A snowy view over Salzburg

Inside Festung Hohensalzburg

Festung Hohensalzburg is the best preserved fortress in Europe.  Construction began in 1077 and was expanded on for centuries, becoming more-and-more fortified as the importance of Salzburg grew.  Inside, the fortress houses a military museum, but the best experience is gained from simply wandering the complex, archways and alleyways, and admiring the view.  Looking away from the city, the fortress itself is overshadowed by the mighty Untersberg, shrouded in wintry mist.  In one of the outlying fields, a singular house, surrounded by a neat little hedge, stands very lonely.  This is Hangman's House, the home of the fortress executioner in days gone by.  As nobody wanted to live next to him, the hangman was made to live a solitary existence, surrounded only by grass and, in December, snow.

Lizzie and the misty Untersberg

Hangman's House

Within the cavernous, dungeon-like fortress, we discover a delightful museum dedicated to string puppets.  The Marionette Museum may be only one-room in size, but it is on the good side of quirky.  Exhibits include the Sound of Music characters and a recreation of Mozart's homecoming following his tour of Europe.  It makes for a fun (not to mention warm) ten minutes.

Mozart in the Marrionette Museum

Back down the fortress funicular and into the slushy streets, we go in search of the Nonnberg Convent - the oldest convent north of the Alps - but find it closed for the week.  This gives us the rest of the day to have a final wander through the markets, where the atmosphere has definitely intensified as the week has gone on.  Excitement is actually close to fever pitch, as the residents of the city prepare for one of their pre-Christmas traditions - the releasing of the Perchten.  According to local tradition, the Perchten is a demonic creator, half man, half god, who appears at the end of the year accompanied by evil figures.  These evil figures not only help her to protect the residents of the city, but also assist her in dishing our punishments.  We squeeze into the packed cathedral square, and watch as lederhosen-clad men perform with whips and instruments.  At the far end of the crowd, screaming starts, and the Perchten - a man dressed in a hideous mask - is let loose on the crowd.  Her minions - in equally grotesque attire - carry giant pairs of scissors, which snap at onlookers who are too close to the action.  Lizzie and I edge slowly backwards, slightly bemused but also absorbed - this is one custom we'll probably never witness again, and it certainly captures the imagination of the locals.

The Nonnberg Convent

Nightfall in this beautiful city, our final meal taken in an individual little restaurant with an Austrian-Italian-Indian edge, where we tick another first off our list with a dessert of Salzburger Nockerl.  This dish, which is only made in Salzburg, is a sweet soufflé, a mountain of meringue topping over a mix of forest fruits, very difficult to describe.  The presentation represents the hills surrounding the city - Gaisberg, Mönchsberg and Nonnberg - whilst its dusting with powdered sugar resembles their snow covered peaks.  It is perhaps a bit too eggy for my taste, but it's a fine way to finish the week in classically Salzburg style.

Nockerl

We wander back to the hotel in the evening chill, all along the way bidding farewell to places we have grown to love in a few short days - Salzburg Cathedral, Getreidegasse, the River Salzach, Cafe Habakuk, the Christmas markets, St Peter's Abbey...  Tomorrow we will be on a plane back home, back with our families, to a place where the only white Christmas is on a greetings card, where snowmen are the realm of Disney films, where the climate will be positively balmy.  But in our hearts, we'll be taking mountains and markets, rhinos and reindeer, snow ploughs, string puppets, hockey pucks, fortresses, churches, ice skates, sachertorte, nockerl, and plenty of snow.  What a beautiful place!

Which nutcracker to choose?

Nightfall in Salzburg

Markets, Mountains and Maximilian

Another frozen morning, another early start as we make the short walk to Salzburg central, destination Innsbruck.  Grandma and Grandad wound up there in their European tour of 1992, and I have always found the photographs a source of fascination, a beautiful and historic city surrounded by tall, snowy mountains.  Our train is clean and comfortable, and the ride is smooth as we leave the suburbs of Salzburg behind us and head into Alpine country.  Our journey takes us through the southeast corner of Germany, before the line plunges south for the Alps, and the scenery becomes at first beautiful, and then spectacular.  Two hours after departure, we roll into Innsbruck, population 120,000, and capital of the Federal State of Tyrol.

Lizzie enjoys the train journey to Innsbruck

It is the first sunny day of our trip to Austria, but to compensate for this, the temperature is absolutely bitter, an obvious indication that we are some 570 metres above sea level.  The town's Christmas markets aren't open when we arrive, although the famous Golden Roof is shining in the sun.  The roof was built by Archduke Friedrich IV in the 15th century, as the residence of the Tyrolean sovereigns.  The roof itself sits atop a three-storey balcony, built for Emperor Maximilian I to use as a royal box, from which he would watch tournaments in the square below.  The roof was built to honour Maximilian's second marriage to Bianca Maria Sforza of Milan, but not wanting to make enemies of his first wife's allies, he diplomatically had an image of himself between the two women painted on his balcony.  Maximilian was either very clever, or very stupid!

Lizzie with the Golden Roof

Innsbruck gets its name, quite logically, from the bridge that once crossed the River Inn.  It's a beautiful river, tinted blue presumable by copper deposits, reminiscent of the Adige River in Verona, just the other side of the mountain range.  Across the river stands one of the city's enormous mountains, Hafelekar, which towers 1,680 metres above the city.  Its summit is reached by way of a funicular and then two cable cars, which take us up into the snow, above the trees and, seemingly, into the sky.  Among the passengers, we are in the tiny minority who are sightseeing rather than skiing, and when we reach the top we are left alone, as others race off to the ski routes.  What results is an overwhelmingly peaceful, stunning experience.  All around us there are mountain peaks, the Innsbruck Pass far below us, the city in miniature, looking like a Lego model, but with no noise emanating from it.  Word on the mountain is that the mercury has dipped to minus twelve, and I can well believe it; I feel colder than I have ever felt before.  After some minutes trampling in the snow, we re-enter the cable car station where a small cafe, hot chocolate and sachertorte awaits.  In my mind, this must be one of the more interesting places to work, and I can't imagine the journey would ever get boring.

The River Inn

Lizzie on Hafelekar

Back in Innsbruck, we go in search of the Hofkirche, which houses the tomb - if not the body - of Emperor Maximilian I.  We are treated to personal service and taken to a small room to begin watching an interactive exhibit on the life of the Emperor, his ambitions and demise.  The quality of the exhibit is a matter of opinion - I think it's brilliantly done, interesting, fun and informative, whilst Lizzie says it's too much like Disneyland.  Whatever your opinion, you can't argue that the presentation gets across the salient points of Maximilian's life; essentially, that he was Holy Roman Emperor from 1493 until his death in 1519.  The church itself is dominated by his tomb, which actually serves as his cenotaph, as he is buried elsewhere.  Surrounding it are statues of all the people the Emperor wanted at his funeral - European heads of states and other dignitaries.

Maximilian's cenotaph

Lizzie will tell you how much I like to visit a church when I'm travelling, and our next stop, Innsbruck cathedral, ranks as one of the best.  The enormous facade is made to look even bigger by the small square that sits in front of it, making it near-impossible to get a decent photo.  The interior is spacious, lighter than I would have imagined, and with a certain peaceful spiritualness.  It also makes a wonderful retreat from the cold, becoming increasingly bitter as the night falls.  We leave the church, but quickly find a delightful little cafe just off the main street, Maria-Theresien-Straße, where market stalls are beautifully lit up in the dark, crystal-like shards jutting up from their rooftops.  At the end of the Maria-Theresien-Straße is Innsbruck's triumphal archway, whilst in the other direction, the lights of the Hafelekar mountain station twinkle in the high altitude distance.

Innsbruck Cathedral

Innsbruck Cathedral Square

We arrive back at Innsbruck station to a cacophony of noise and disturbance - it seems that police are in attendance further down the line, resulting in delays across the local network.  Long queues form at the information desk and we watch the arrivals board with bated breath.  Thank goodness, our train to Salzburg is on time - in fact, it's twenty minutes early - and there will be no more waiting around in this frozen corner of Austria.  Our ride back to Salzburg is uneventful, our view restricted by darkness so that all we notice are the ski slopes, illuminated for the evening enthusiasts.  To us, this last view is an appropriate one - our mountain adventure is the abiding memory of Innsbruck, perhaps even of the entire week.

Innsbruck Christmas market

Music Museums and Mozart

It is impossible to visit Salzburg without feeling the presence of Mozart.  The composer's image is everywhere, his music wafting through the streets and shops, his brand of chocolates available in all the supermarkets, his aftershave for sale in every souvenir shop.  Mozart never much cared for the city, finding it boring, but the city has never forgotten him, nor has its love for him diminished over the centuries.  After a breakfast of sachertorte and apple strudel, Lizzie and I went in search of the world-famous composer, starting at the house of his birth.  This is what we discovered.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born on 27 January 1756, in an impossible-to-miss yellow property on Salzburg's main shopping street, Getreidegasse, in the very heart of the city's old town.  The son of Leopold and Anna Maria, Wolfgang was the youngest of seven children, of which only two survived - himself and his elder sister, Maria Anna, known as Nannerl.  Both the children exhibited phenomenal talent from a very early age, but it was Wolfgang that most surprised his father, so much so that Leopold gave up his own composing efforts to concentrate fully on his son.  This must also be the reason why, during Wolfgang's teenage years, the Mozarts moved across the river, to a bigger and newer building, more grand, spacious and luxuriously decorated, and also much quieter - the perfect place for a budding composer to find the space and air he required.

Mozart's birthplace, 9 Getreidegasse

Mozart's Residence

It was this childhood talent that would take both youngsters travelling all over Europe, beginning with an exhibition at the court of the Prince-elector Maximilian III of Bavaria in Munich, in 1762.  The journey continued to Vienna and Prague, then Mannheim, Paris, London, The Hague, Zurich, and Donaueschingen, meeting along the way numerous musicians and composers.  On their return home, Wolfgang embarked on a tour of Italy with his father, to Milan and Rome, where he was accepted as a member of the Accademia Filarmonica.

On return from Italy, Wolfgang was employed as a court musician by Prince-Archbishop Hieronymus Colloredo, the ruler of Salzburg.  Here he worked in many genres, but developed a particular interest in violin and piano concertos.  Wolfgang, however, grew increasingly restless with his employment and with Salzburg.  When the court theatre closed down, he ventured to Vienna in search of work, but found little.  He was then accompanied by his mother on a quest to Munich, Augsburg and Mannheim, before he investigated a post to be an organist at Versailles.  At this time, Mozart fell into debt and took to pawning valuables.  His lack of funds is probably the reason why he delayed in calling a doctor when his mother took ill whilst in Paris.  She died on 3 July 1778.

The Mozart family around 1780 (Source: Wikipedia)

Wolfgang returned to Salzburg all the more dissatisfied.  In 1781, he was summoned to Vienna, where Archbishop Colloredo was attending the celebrations for the accession of Joseph II to the Austrian throne.  He was offended when he was forbidden to perform before the Emperor, resigning his position after a quarrel.  He nonetheless settled in Vienna, persuing his career as an independent performer and composer.  This began well, his work soon being performed throughout the German world, his reputation growing.  Wolfgang moved in with the Weber family, with whom he'd had previous correspondence in Mannheim, and went on to marry the family's third daughter, Constanze Weber, on 4 August 1782.  The couple had six children; Karl Thomas Mozart and Franz Xaver Wolfgang Mozart were the only two survivors.
  
Between 1782 and 1788, Wolfgang wrote his most famous operatic works, The Magic Flute, The Marriage of Figaro and Don Giovanni.  Leopold died in 28 May 1787, and in December of that year Wolfgang was appointed "chamber composer" to Emperor Joseph II.  Court records have revealed that Joseph intended to keep Wolfgang from leaving Vienna.
  
The beginning of the Austro-Turkish War in 1787 saw Mozart hit harder times, as the level of prosperity in Vienna declined.  In 1788, the Mozart family moved to a suburb of Vienna to reduce rental expenses although, it seems, he merely increased his housing space without saving a penny.  Mozart began to borrow money, and it is suggested that the composer began to suffer with depression.  As he seemed to be recovering his situation, he was struck down with illness, and by November 1791, his health had somewhat deteriorated.  Bedridden, suffering from swelling, pain and vomiting, he was nursed by his wife and her youngest sister, and was attended to by the family doctor, Thomas Franz Closset.  Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart died in his home on 5 December 1791.  He was aged only 35. 

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, painted posthumously by Barbara Krafft in 1819 (Source: Wikipedia)

We leave Mozart's residence, via the obligatory shop, and step out into the late afternoon air.  Back at Mozartplatz, (and much to Lizzie's insistence!), we don our ice skates and take to the rink.  Now, I've never been ice skating before, but I find the whole thing impossible to master.  Children of only 9 or 10 years old zoom confidently past us as we cling to the side, hardly daring to take a step out to the middle of the ice.  "Helicopter arms" is how Lizzie describes me when I do venture away from the edge, limbs flailing all ways, whilst the statue of Wolfgang Amadeus looks down on us in judgement.  Of course, he probably mastered this at the age of five.

In the shadow of Wolfgang Amadeus

Ice skating on Mozartplatz

"Say not in grief 'he is no more' but live in thankfulness that he was"

GRANDAD

1926-2013