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Budapest to Salzburg

September 2, 2011

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Keleti station, just before our departure. I’ll miss this crazy town.

Thursday, September 1

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We passed back through Vienna on our way to Salzburg and I snapped some of the Viennese graffiti, which is a little more polished than the scribblings in other places, such as L.A. In Budapest, the graffiti was usually on 400-year-old buildings.

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By the time we arrived in Salzburg, the weather had turned drizzly, but this didn’t stop the tourists, including yours truly. Where there are tourists, there is money. A local guidebook says that one out of every three Salzburg jobs is connected to tourism, pretty high for a population of 150,000. This may not be counting the street hustlers. Here a kid is chasing the product of a guy whose occupation seems to be making giant soap bubbles.

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The Salzach River runs through town. This is looking north from the Staatsbruecke.

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An early supper at a nice local restaurant, Zum Fidelen Affel (The Merry Monkey, per Google Translate.) We recommend.

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Our room at the St. Sebastian Institute, a church pension. It’s so small compared to our more recent accommodations that Peggy nicknamed it “The Bug-Hole”. I don’t call it that, though, because every time I do she starts laughing hysterically.

Friday, September 2

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If you don’t already know it, Salzburg’s only claim to fame is as Mozart’s birthplace. Nevertheless, that’s a pretty big claim, and it’s milked for all it’s worth. I’ve already mentioned the ubiquitous Mozart Kugeln (Mozart Balls.) There are also plaques, monuments, etc. I’ll try to be brief.

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Mozart’s birthplace, to which the plaque above is affixed. There’s a museum inside. We skipped.

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The Mozart monument, in Mozartplatz, natch. It is widely agreed that this bears no remblance to the composer of The Marriage of Figaro.

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Here’s an ensemble you don’t see everyday – three balalaikas and an accordion. They played transcriptions of classical pieces and they were damn good. Here they’re doing a Rossini overture.

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The cathedral, where Mozart worked, grudgingly, for the local archbishop. About his pay, he wrote to his father, “Too much for what I do, too little for what I want to do.”

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Mozart’s wife, Constanze, is buried in the cemetery adjoining our pension.

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Nighttime in the Mirabellgarten.

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Righteous desserts back at Zum Fidelen Affel. Too complicated to describe, except to say they were delicious.

And so to bed. The plan is to go to Munich tomorrow.

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One Comment
  1. Leticia permalink

    OMG!!!! give me a bite of those desserts!!!

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