A U S T R I A
13 - 20 July 2005

Innsbruck -- Friday, 15 July 2005

When I described our door as a wooden bank vault, I wasn't kidding.  You have to step up into the room and, conversely, down out of it.  It's just a small lip, about an inch, but enough to give you an unexpected jolt.  In the UK there would be a polite sign saying, "Mind the Step."  In the US there would be black and yellow hazard tape all around the doorway, a non-skid ramp leading down into the hallway and the phone number of a lawyer prominently displayed on the door.

We were on our way to Innsbruck on this fine morning.  The train station was a short walk through the tranquil town so, in barely twenty-minutes time, we were sitting on a stark and spotless platform listening to announcements in German that we couldn't understand.  They might have been saying, "Mind the gap," or the popular, "please do not leave your bags unattended."  It was, however, almost certainly not, "We are sorry, but the 9:47 to Innsbruck has been delayed.  We apologise for this inconvenience."

Innsbruck.

True to form, the train was spot on time.  The ride to Innsbruck was relatively brief and pleasantly scenic.  Upon descending the mountains toward Innsbruck, it became apparent why they built the city there; it's the only flat land available without conquering more territory.  What isn't built-up is used for farming so I imagine the decision to scratch out enough square footage to land a plane on didn't come easy.  At any rate, level acreage for the airport certainly appears to have been grudgingly doled out.  It's a small strip of tarmac strategically located at the far end of the valley, allowing the jet liners just enough time to swoop over the mountains, line up with the runway and scream over the city of Innsbruck, thereby keeping everybody's property values in check.

Side Streets.

Innsbruck, like many European cities, is pretty and boasts a central, historic district.  This was the only thing we were interested in seeing so we picked up a tourist map at the station, oriented ourselves, and hiked the few blocks to the medieval town centre.  It was lovely, pedestrianized and filled with shops, cafés and mobs of tourists.  It was a hot day, so after exploring the local lanes and walking by the River Inn we settled under an umbrella outside of a sidewalk pub for a beverage and some people watching.

The River Inn.

It wasn't surprising to see clusters of Japanese making their way up the streets, stopping to have themselves photographed at every opportunity, or to spot a harried woman with a clipboard, incongruously holding an umbrella on this hot and sunny day and leading a flock of sightseers; these you see almost anywhere you go.  What I found surprising was the number of Americans present in the crowd.  They weren't difficult to pick out, not--I am happy to report--because they were fat, loud and obnoxious, but because of the way they moved.

The Market Square.

Americans don't exactly swagger, but they walk with an easy confidence and the assurance that people are going to get out of their way.  They walk like people who are used to having a lot of room to swing their arms.  It was nice to see them.  I've always believed Americans should get out more; it does them good.

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