04 Aug 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, No Comments.
08/04 Mirabellgarden, Salzburg Austria
Today’s plan was to wander around the city in an attempt to locate our choir from home. After another walk along the river, around the castle and up and down the many streets, I got the feeling we had taken the wrong approach to find our choir. I began thinking it a better approach to let them find me. That would at least reduce the walking. In the middle of the squares in-between the castle and the church sat a large chess set, with pieces about two and a half feet in height. There was an older gentleman who gave the impression that it was his square. While I stood waiting for my turn he reinforced this perception by winning five matches in a row. Understand that my objective was to be in the center square for the longest possible period of time, so I would make moves that would just stifle my opponent. Making offensive moves and retreating began to frustrate him and then his character emerged. I caught a neglected queen left vulnerable. Once he noticed her vulnerability he attempted to take back his previous move. I had started to get tired of standing in one place anyway and since there was no shade I decided to make issue with his attempt to cheat and gave up the stage. Sometimes a non-win strategy is a hard strategy to figure out.
We crossed the river to search the other side of the city, scanning the many buses for familiar faces. As I turned one of the corners, to my surprise there stood a classmate that I have known since grammar school. He was shocked to see me standing next to him; the expression of “where did you come from” was plastered across his face. Our hometown choir had just pulled into the city and was off to get things settled in their hotel. They had scheduled a concert the next day in the countryside east of Salzburg and I explained that we would catch up with them there.
Tonight was a repeat of the night before. We wandered between bars but this time the clouds had brought rain. We ended the evening under the patio umbrellas in front of another bottle of wine. Once we checked in that little bit of freedom was available to us, and we traded stories into the night above the light of the city below. Our Englishman liked to turn the conversation to current politics. I don’t recall the sequence of conversation that lead us into a discussion of the United States and its so-called war on drugs, but he had been baiting me for some time. There were moments when he made well-substantiated points that were grounded but at other times it seemed as if he just wanted to disagree. I took the position that economics was the foundation of any successful solution. Currently that river ran too deep (demand is actually an addiction) and the current was too strong (margins are extremely high) to wade across to the supply side of things. The solution in my opinion was to remove oneself from the water. I suggested that controlling the supply side of the problem and to treat it like a problem not a crime. You can’t fix anything if you don’t understand it. By then we had soaked up enough wine and water to be considered wet and headed inside for a dry game of cards. When we knocked on the front door of the hostile, the old woman that ran the place came to the small window in the middle of the door, opened it up and stated, “No room, no room” and slammed it shut. The old woman put on a gritty front but was really quite a softy, quite a piece of work. Her comment and tone caught the girls completely off-guard. I wasn’t worried, even if she wouldn’t open the door, I had window wedged. A habit I had found valuable. You never know what fate lies around the corner. I decided to head off to sleep and leave the rest un-chaperoned.
