11 Aug 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, No Comments.
08/11 Innsbruck, Austria
We were up early, followed advice we received during the last night socializing and joined the “Club Innsbruck” for a day hike. A young Belgium woman had crossed our path searching for the same location. It was early in the morning and we were the first to arrive, so there was nobody gathered outside to identify if we had found our destination. She seemed very nice but didn’t say much. It was apparent she was very shy. They began handing out daypacks and boots if needed. I was at a disadvantage because I wasn’t sporting socks, just tennis shoes because socks are difficult items to keep either clean and/or dry. After a while of wrestling with this inconvenience I discarded them for good and hadn’t had the opportunity to purchase a few new pairs. To my surprise and gratitude, our Belgium maiden found it in her heart to share an additional pair of socks she had been carrying. They loaded us all on a bus and we headed into the mountains. In the back of the bus we struck up a conversation with some of the others. I don’t recall how the subject of baseball came up but at about the fifth word spoken on this subject Woody Allan’s little brother sprang from the front of the bus. He was decked out with a pin covered uniform and a New York Yankee cap. You guys talking about baseball? Without even a breath between sentences, he proceeded giving an impression that he was somebody we couldn’t get rid of.
Eventually we boarded a ski lift to reach the higher elevations, Schrankugel – Schaufel – Ppitze – Wilder Freiger. Our group was made up of all ages so our path was leisurely and there was plenty of time to frame a few photographs. I would wander to the front, to the rear, to the front and then again back to the rear, from one conversation to another, kinda like a sheep dog on speed. The scenery was just gorgeous, the mountains were green but snow capped and it looked as if every flower was in bloom. The backside of one these trails gave us a panoramic view of lush green hills scratched in brown. Apparently the moisture of the last rain dislodged the foundations of some local structures that now lay in ruins at the bottom of each brown scratch. I guess beauty does have a sharp edge. At the top of that trek sat a small little wooden church. God’s own church with a true view of his garden. Inside were no more than thirty seats, each worn from years of use. It just struck me as possessing all the characteristics of a true church without all the grandeur. No stain glass windows, no statues or images of saints and I could image shoes being left at the door to keep from tracking in soil.
After the group had caught its breath, our trek leader began handing out accomplishment pins. I’m one who would rather avoid celebration and preferred moving on to a beer. When he started handing out pins for the new members, like me, that had survived the first day, I truly understood this ritual. Our guide would extend his hand to the men but with the women he would seek a kiss. When his attentions turn toward our young Belgium maiden, she curled up like a scared kitten. After the way he kissed the last two, I would have probably have done the same. I don’t recall how I was recruited; perhaps it was because I was the only one who actually had a conversation with her. I was selected to attempt to put the pin onto her blouse. I gave her a cute peck on the cheek and as expected she blushed.
We finished the trek relaxing outside a local restaurant to a well deserved cold beer. On the bus ride back to Innsbruck, Jim gave his best shot in convincing two sisters to join us that night for dinner. It was a bad sign when their Mother even was aggressively pushing them to go out and still they said no. Jim just needed to let it rest. I wandered about for a bit and eventually like every night there, ended up staring at the river, hypnotized by its power. I stood almost paralyzed in amazement watching the over swollen waters run through the town. A pair of young ladies had wandered onto the bridge and introduced themselves. They seemed nice but once they got comfortable the one who appeared to be the quiet one wouldn’t stop talking. Once she started, she just wouldn’t stop. She hated the United States and began expressing all the left wing propaganda I heard so many times before. Okay, have you ever been to the States? “No”. Do you know people that live there? “No”. Do you believe everything you hear or read? “No”. Well there you go and with that I left. That night we had our own room with a window off the shower, so no rushing back. The next morning before moving on, we boarded the cable car to the top of the adjacent mountain and even spent some time visiting the local zoo. About midday we boarded a train to Switzerland.
We stopped off in Luzern to get something to eat and ended up at the exact same table as before, standing at the cross roads. While standing there eating German sausage, mustard and beer another face from the past wandered up and said hello. That day we decided to take things at a more leisurely pace and took the slow road into Interlaken. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and it looked as if we were entering one of those many post cards that clutter the main boulevards. The lakes we passed on our way into Interlaken was such a unique blue, it didn’t seem real, especially in contrast to the multi greens of the mountains that surrounded them. As we exited the train, we came across a small group of travelers lost and seeking directions. Since we were all seeking the same location we shepherded them to its door. We hit a gold mine of young travelers and all the inner workings of a perpetual party. At the door they handed us priority numbers and explained that if we were lucky we’d get a bed for the night and if not, there would be room on the floor. Thank God it was a privately ran hostel, cause I discovered that I had left my hostel card back in Innsbruck by mistake.
My guitar, she was such a social animal and loved to exercise this desire. It was a pleasure to be associated with her conquests. She always managed to find her own friends. Two movies showed every night, plenty of alcohol was being passed around and we even made a few good contacts, but for some reason I felt like I needed to be alone and had wandered into the woods by myself. I didn’t want anybody hearing me try to play the guitar.
