A 12-hour day of travel ended with overwhelming confusion and the kindness of a non-English speaking train conductor when I flew to Germany. My plan was to arrive in Munich around 8pm and hop on a train directly to Salzburg where I would stay for 3 days. I stared at the train times on the platform and realized that staring wouldn’t change it to English, and I sure as hell didn’t speak German. What had I gotten myself into? A train arrived and sat there just long enough for me to decide to get on. Hoping it would take me somewhere I needed to go. My data roaming wasn’t working on my phone. No wifi. I had no idea where I was or where I was headed. All I had was the word of a kind woman who, a split second before the doors shut, told me, “Salzburg? Oh this is your train. Munich first, then to Salzburg.” She was right. But I ended up having to take 3 trains and one taxi just to arrive at my hostel in Salzburg. My heart was racing for those 2 hours. I thought it was going to jump out of my chest. Pulling into the Salzburg station was like arriving home, in a place entirely new. I looked out the window of the train at 10:30pm and saw just a silhouette of the fairy-tale fortress sitting atop the city lights all aglow. A smile exploded on my face and I nearly ran out the train doors to find a taxi. My heart raced all night, I couldn’t believe I actually made it. I spent my first day wandering. I walked around the city and found the perfect local café for brunch. I was hopelessly isolated by the language barrier, consumed in self-doubt and apologetic insecurity for coming to a land and forcing them to speak my language. The welcoming nature of the staff made me feel less so, and I found confidence in the discomfort. After I ate I walked around the city centre. I devoured cheese strudels (my weakness) at every opportunity. I hiked up to the fortress and I must have circled it 3 times. It has grown into a tourist trap, but the views are nothing short of extraordinary. Rivers, cities, forests, mountains. As far as the eye can see is pure magic from the top of that mountain. I returned to the fortress later that night for a Mozart Concert. Three violins, a piano, and a cello sound-tracked a dreamy two hours in the ballroom of the fortress. I was whisked away with the music. Each note was so dramatic, there was not a single person in the room whose soul remained present. The angry echo of the piano and the sweet sob of the violin was gut wrenchingly beautiful; and magnificently played with such pleasant acoustics. The next day I was awoken to an Austrian breakfast in the lobby. Bread, cheese, meat, heaven. I walked to the bus stop where I would be transported out of the city and into the clouds. Along the way I met an Australian couple: Pseudo-parents that adopted me for an hour or two. The mountain too unsafe to climb at this time of year, I took the cable car up, up up. Soaring high above the clouds. The whole world fell into suspension while I walked into this other one. The mountains played peekaboo behind the clouds, only revealing their majesty to those who really worked for it. I found a nook with a never-ending view, and I sat there for an hour or so. I paired my energy with this new world, grounding myself in yoga on the snowy earth. I bent in new ways, seeing the Alps hang from the sky like if I turned they would stab me. I didn’t want to leave. This fairy tale city and its breathtaking outskirts captured every part of my heart and soul that I have to give, and I already ache to return.
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March 2017
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