You need someone older and wiser telling you what to do. (Yeah, right.)

Before we begin, I'd like to suggest that you use the bathroom and grab a bite to eat -- maybe a glass of water or chardonnay. This might take you a little while to read, but I promise it will be entirely worth it.

I'd like to start off by saying this: I still have moments where I find it hard to believe I'm in Europe, even though I spent my time this weekend crossing two countries entirely. Even so, the past 85-some hours have been so quickly-paced that I feel as if I'd never left my little Well in the first place. Then, I have moments where Well feels completely foreign to me, much like Colorado Springs did the first time I ventured home this past Christmas Day.

My best guess is that these train rides account for a great deal of this subconscious confusion -- particularly through the Alps of Austrian edleweiss and fields of German corn. It is definitely autumn, at least in Vienna ("Wien" to all real Europeans), for my last moments before heading back to Holland were spent on a decaying sidewalk bench covered in chipping steel-blue paint and peace-rally stickers in front of the Staatsoper (Vienna and Austrian State Opera House.) As I was sitting there quietly, taking notes for this epic entry, an excited wind came up behind me and tapped my shoulder politely. All at once I was covered in tiny yellow leaves from a tree high above me. And there I was, actually content, a big step up frmo the beginning of my weekend travel, and a true pinnacle just before coming crashing down again out of Heaven's hands.

Right before my stressful trek to Austria, my World Drama (in its Context) teacher, who doesn't speak English very well (at times) explained to us that a character in Ajax "suicided himself." This put me in a good mood which I feel gave me enough stamina during the more high-stress moments from this past weekend -- that and Sam Sihmak: "Toot, toot! Next stop, Kasteel Well! Everybody off..."

My original plan with Scott was to take an overnight "sleeper train" to Munich (Munchen with the two little dots over the "u" that I don't know how to do on this PC) and then transfer to another train in Munich that would take us to Sulzburg. This train would have arrived promptly at 9 AM had we been allowed on it. We had not made reservations as a member of the castle staff assured us it was pointless to make one on a work week, that we'd be just fine, all trains will be virtually empty due to the work week -- and she would've been right had she remembered Oktoberfest actually means Sept(k)emberfest in Germany. Scott and I arrived in Dusseldorf from Venlo to catch our non-reserved overnight train, but we were informed without much help that there was absolutely no room. We didn't panic, but it was obvious from the stern demeanor of the train conductor that it was going to be interesting figuring out a plan B to Salzburg.

Welcome to Dusseldorf!

Sieg-Heil?

Yes, folks, they have them in Germany too.

We stood in front of the large timetable and mapped out our only possible route to Salzburg which would end up taking all night. We hopped on an 11:15-ish train to Koln (pronounced "cologne," again with the double-dots over the "o") where we arrived a quarter to 12 AM. From there we planned to sit around until 4:15 AM, taking sleep shifts, until we would catch the next train to Munich (we reserved it at a machine in Koln) and then another (also reserved) 8-9ish AM train to Salzburg which would get us there just after 10 AM.

As we were pulling into Koln, ready to take turns sleeping, Scott noticed a very large, very gothic-looking structure that towered over the train station. We thought its presence might fill time, so we exited the train staiton and standing before us was one of the most beautiful cathedrals I had ever seen (which I would later discover on Wikipedia had been the world's tallest structure from 1880 to 1884): the Koln Cathedral.

Koln Cathedral




We wandered around it, snapping pictures here and there, and continued wandering around the area for about an hour. We then explored the train station until we discovered the only open seating area -- a German McDonalds where all the employees had pants with the McDonalds logo stamped on the butt. It was our safest bet, so there we sat for the next two hours, watching creeper after creeper come in and out. (There was this really gross older couple that kept sticking their tongues down each other's throast and a homeless man who I believe was having an argument with himself.) After reading Prague Tales or trying to sleep or talking or avoiding getting into the homeless man's confrontation with himself, we were kicked out because they were closing. We sat another hour or so, playing cards, watching people clean, and avoiding the dark stares of the German youth who clearly knew we were Americans not interested in getting high with them.



Our trains (above) from Dusseldorf to Koln and Koln to Munich were these phallic-looking, high-tech trains complete with sliding glass doors identical to those on the Star Trek Voyager (they even made the "woosh" air compression noise when they opened or closed.) We finally arrived in Salzburg just past 10 AM where we grabbed a cheap bite to eat and made train reservations from Salzburg to Vienna as well as from Vienna back to Dusseldorf for the journey home. At that point we caught the train that would take us to our hostel, just a little under three minutes outside Salzburg, overlooking the town. The photos below don't do the beauty of the hostel (and its views from our room) justice, but there they are, the pictures of Haus Chrstine. The owners of this tiny traveler's B&B were extremely awkward and one yelled at me when her kid starting talking to me and I responded in English, hurrying her kids inside and shutting the blinds to her house. Allllllll right.

Haus Christine's Sister Haus where our room was.

Hill to the train station into Salzburg.

The view.

Clean.

BATHROOM IN THE BEDROOM.

We walked back down the hill to take the train from Salzburg (Kasern) into the city where we wandered all day. We expected to see most of THE SOUND OF MUSIC filming sights on the tour the next day; however, the incredible time I had in Salzburg started when Scott noticed these steps leading up to the Nonnberg Abbey (the one you see a lot in the film -- the opening, the gates when Maria leaves for the first time to go see the children, the gates when Maria comes looking for the children, etc.) and the Fortress. We had seen the river, crossed over it, heard a dance remix of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody," and purchased postcards at a very adorable little shop with an adorable little lady who was very sweet -- but our midday-into-the-late-evening adventure starting when Scott noticed these 140 steps.

The setup of Salzburg is based on its two major landmarks: the river running through it and the Fortress on the hill towards the south side of town (which is much like the idea of the Prudential Center in Boston: if you're lost and can find it, you're going to be okay.) The fortress is next to the Nonnberg Abbey, where Scott figured out in an instant, was where they filmed all those scenes I previously mentioned. You can see the entire City of Salzburg and its background, the majestic Austrian Alps from this high point. It was truly breath-taking.

From there we wandered down through a very rich neighborhood, the Park Avenue of Salzburg, back to the outskirts of town where I bought the best candy I've ever had at this tiny little shop. We wandered back into Old Town and found this place called Balthazar for dinner and a beer. Our waiter was so funny and would repeat everything I said to him in a joking manner... I know it doesn't make sense, but you'd get it if you had been there. We met a couple of Americans, chatted with them, and people watched.

As we were finishing up, a huge husky and his owner came around the corner. The dog bounded right up to our table, and we ended up watching him for a few minutes while his owner went inside his apartment to get some things. Suddenly, an older gentleman in his 60s came up to our table and starting petting the dog, assuming it belonged to Scott or me. He spoke English without an sort of foreign accent to an American, so I assumed he was American, which he was.

Herein lies the story of R. Lyman Bliss. If you need to take a break from the story thus far, I suggest you do it now because this is the best part and the longest part of the story. This is important to me that you read this part more than any other, so do what you must do in order to focus.

Come to find out through initial conversation that R. Lyman Bliss, (who has just sat down with us and will be referred to as Lyman from this point forward), has a very interesting, beautiful, touching, etc... life story... and outlook on life itself. Although unaware of it when I first met him, this man would slowly but surely change my life in ways I can't explain except for through this blog and my actions from this point forward. We talked about our schooling, why we were here in Europe, what we were studying, the usual bore with Americans you meet elsewhere than the United States. As we continue chatting, Lyman explains that he has lived in Austria for 24 years with his wife and daughter. Lyman, himself a graduate of UCLA, has taught all over the world and continues to teach in Salzburg here and there.

Lyman continually mentions his wife in the present tense, but I noticed no wedding ring. He informs us that THE SOUND OF MUSIC tour for which we have reservations is a total scam and wouldn't mind showing us the sights. He says, however, that he has to go change his shoes in his apartment and would like to show it to us. At this point, I'm completely sketched out, but because Scott is with me and I'm very trusting, I say suer, fully trusting that beneath all of this oddness lies an incredibly honest and innocent man.

We go upstairs and I continue to inquire about his wife as he changes his shoes. All at one moment, his voice chokes up when I ask what his wife does "now," to which he replies, "My wife was a painter and a designer, and she died two years ago."

Definite mood killer, but everything made sense all of a sudden. He had pictures of his wife and their daughter up everywhere, and I feel terrible... but Lyman, whose last name apropriately is Bliss, doesn't let his story affect the upcoming evening, so he continues to chat without much effort about his daughter, wife, etc. We make our way down to the streets and on the journey to our first stop, Lyman tells us he does things like this all the time with American tourists.

It would be difficult to explain any more of Lyman. The things he said were some of the simplest, honest, and true proverbs I've ever heard, and I will carry them with me for so long. He took us to the following places:
- Where Maria sings "I Have Confidence" in the bus, runs down the edge of that yellow wall, skipping and jumping until she sees...
-... the front of the house with the gate. She trips going up, it's where the Captain rips down the Nazi flag, where they try to escape and are instead escorted to the Salzburg Festival.
-The back of the house, but only the view of it. The actual courtyard was over by another lake (where the boat tips over and they all fall in) he showed us where the gate the children come up to meet the Captain, etc. He took us inside the house (now an academic center strictly off-grounds) because he is a fellow of this society... it was all so wonderful.

The next day the tour took us to the church Maria and the Captain were married in, the Gazebo where Liesel and Rolph, the trees where the children are when the captain comes home from Vienna, the view of the mountain where they filmed the beginning of "Do-Re-Mi," and the Mirabelle Gardens where the end of "Do-Re-Mi" was filmed (marching on the fountain, hopping up the steps, the random gnome Gretl touches, and the ivy tunnel where they bike through.) Scott and I also found the spot overlooking the city on the steps where they sing "Do-Re-Mi" as well.

We met Lyman later in the afternoon for a drink, and then had to go. He left us with a quote: "It is love that knows the biggest secret; that in giving, you shall always receive." And chocolate. Here's to you, Lyman.

Leaving was sad, but we were off to Vienna. At this point, it was all sort of downhill chill time to reflect on our time with Lyman. It was our first experience with a real hostel (two Minnesotean roommates, two Australian roommates, two Albanian roommates), and it was in a sketchy, sketchy part of town. The next day, we explored and found Old Vienna, which was so beautiful. The Haasoper (State Opera House), St. Stephen's Cathedral, the Imperial Palace... it was crazy. I'll post pictures soon.

The trip home was a mess as well. We got stuck in Dusseldorf, went to a trashy hostel, and got home at 8:15 AM. It was a long night.

Everything was worth those moments in Salzburg. I can't tell you.

Ask me about Lyman in person sometime. I'll always make time for telling that story, in much better detail than a blog can handle.

I missed home for the first time in Vienna -- both Colorado (as always), and strangely, Boston.

If every weekend is like this, my blog might explode with sentimentality.

NOTE: When I finish uploading the pictures into Photobucket (it takes a while), I will post the more important ones into the blog.

I hope you don't have to pee too bad.