Austria
Wrapping up Austria before this internet cafe closes... Vienna, without doubt is an incredibly beautiful city. Where else can you find major statues littered around the city like they were public phones? The relatively small size of downtown makes the city very approachable on foot, which led to a lot of wandering around lost, until the jet lag wore off and once more I could understand maps.

After five days of treading the Vienna tourist trail, I was very glad to get out of town and go to a tiny little village on the Danube called Melk. All 6000 people are nestled snugly beneath a gigantic Franciscun monastery perched on a hill. The effect at dusk, when the sunlight begins to fade and the powerful yellow of the monastery walls remains illuminated, was breathtaking. I was sitting outside a cafe, drinking my tea, writing in my journal. It was one of those moments that keep you travelling.

The next day I took a cruise up the Danube to another town called Krems, through vineyards on either side of the river, almost every major bend guarded by a castle or castle ruin. If you live beneath a castle ruin, or a 1400-room monastery, do you ever really lose the sense of wonder? Do you ever walk out your door one day and see the castle only as part of the background? I guess you must, but I really can't see how.

Then, back on the tourist trail to Salzberg, home of the Sound of Music and the friend-of-a-friend Zeller family. I took some walks around Salzburg, again with fortresses and castles popping in and out of view, but now with the Alps providing natural beauty. The side of a hill, covered in straight ash trees, sloping fast and unevenly to meet the ground. Trees that had fallen striking and felling other trees with them. Aaah, nature.

The Zellers were incredibly hospitable to this strange Australian that kept ringing them. Eventually giving in and inviting me over for Sunday lunch. Their perspective on European politics was very amusing. After first patiently denying that Europeans bear stereotypes against each other, they proceeded to enlighten me all afternoon on centuries-old gossip. I mentioned that I was going to Prague, "those fucking Czechs" was the reply, because after World War II (during the course of which, you will recall, Germany invaded Czechoslovakia) the Czechs kicked out some resident Germanic people and won't let them have their land back. And those Italians are bastards, you see because they stole a region named Tirol from us.

So then to Innsbruck, where I decided to get a cable-car to the top of a promising-looking Alp and hike across a few peaks and then down into the valley. A small hitch in the plan appeared when I saw that the top of the mountain was, of course, still covered in snow. But, drawing inspiration by being the location of two Winter Olympics, I ignored the difficulties and attempted the Cross Country Snow Hike with all the grace and aplomb that only the six-foot-plus can muster. Add in a modest handicap for my (a) lack of psychological preparation, (b) inappropriate attire for snow hiking and (c) complete inexperience in walking through loose snow, and I think you will find that I acquitted myself very well. And once we get past the snow and the mud, the hike because more endurable, if still not quite enjoyable. Considering that we had been walking for an hour, and still had two more hours to go, endurable is a fine characteristic indeed. And once we started talking to an altruistic Austria who showed us how to walk downhill properly (yes there IS a way), the walk, well, the best thing I can say about it was that it was nearly over. The whole thing is better in hindsight, racked up as an experience and a story to tell, rather than as a sensation to be repeated in anyway. And of course, no hiking expedition would be complete with seeing the usual procession of fitness fanatic mountain-goat-cross-octogenarian overtaking us regularly. Those bastards.