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Budapest to Salzburg

September 2, 2011


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

Thursday, September 1

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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.”

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

Nighttime in the Mirabellgarten.

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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