Sunday, November 11, 2007

Father John Sings. Again.

Even if YOU can't be in New York, you can tell your friends.




FROM

BROADWAY

TO

BEETHOVEN

A Concert at St Malachy’s Church
(the Actors Chapel)
at 239 W. 49th St

Featuring
Fr. John Sheehan, SJ

With Woody Regan
on piano
7 pm
Monday
NOVEMBER 19th



Admission is free but reservations are required

Phone: (212) 606-3420
or email johnrsheehan@Yahoo.com

and leave your name and e-mail or a contact phone.
All reservations will be confirmed.


Please DON’T wait until the last minute to make reservations.
















FATHER JOHN SHEEHAN, SJ
It’s a Singer! It’s an Actor! It’s a Priest!
It’s Father John!



He’s been singing and performing all his life, from his days as a boy soprano and a child model (born in New York, baptized in St. Patrick’s Cathedral) , through high school (in Princeton and Trenton, NJ, both on stage and in radio) and college. He was the recipient of one of the first three degrees in Theatre awarded by the University of Notre Dame, and after graduation came to New York, where he sang with the Light Opera of Manhattan, did dinner theatre tours and summer stock, and a season with Arena Stage in Washington. He also worked with a stunt-driving team, managed dinner theatres and catering services, and had a small public relations business. He joined Actor’s Equity as a stage manager, ran several dinner theatres and was in charge of publicity and front of house for Pittsburgh Public Theatre. He has done voice-overs, local commercials, and he was Cantorial Soloist in a Jewish Temple for 2 1/2 years.

Entering the Jesuits in 1980, he studied and worked in New York and London, did a year of Philosophy study in Dublin, and earned his theology degree in Toronto. He spent twelve years in Nigeria (West Africa) and almost three years in the South Pacific, in the Marshall Islands.

He studied with voice with Charles Reading (assistant to Giuseppe DeLuca), and song study with Pat Maloney (student of Lotte Lehman) and Elizabeth Hawes-Smith, head of the vocal department at the Royal College of Music in London. In Innsbruck, he sang with the Walter von der Vogelweide Kammerchor, and has done multiple solo concerts in Nigeria, Ghana, South Africa, London, Tokyo, Austin, and the Republic of the Marshall Islands.

He is a member of Actor’s Equity, Rotary, the Episcopal Actors Guild, the Mario Lanza Society, the Gilbert and Sullivan Society, the Lamb’s Club, and chaplain for the New York Alumni Club of the University of Notre Dame. He is on the staff of St. Malachy’s Church (the Actors’ Chapel) and he has three CD’s available. He cannot believe that God will let him die before he gets to be in a Broadway show.

WOODY REGAN
Woody Regan has been conductor or pianist for many well-known performers, including Elly Stone, Kaye Ballard, Liliane Montevecchi, Donnie Osmond and David Cassidy. In collaboration with Sam Shepard he created and played the piano score of Shepard's play When The World Was Green (A Chef's Fable" which opened The Signature Theater's Shepard Season at The New York Public Theater and The Singapore Festival for the Arts. In Moscow, Woody became the first American composer to perform his own work at The Moscow Art Theater. He also composed incidental scores for many plays, including A Taste of Honey (directed by Michael Mayer) and Marvin's Room at the Crossroads Theater.

Saturday, August 04, 2007

GOOD NEWS, NO NEWS AND JUST PLAIN NEWS



News - I have moved, although I am still in the same residence, but a new room and therefore a new phone number. Which is

212

606-3420




No News - Had a very good meeting with the Provincial, and came away with an interesting sense of how he sees me and things he is interested and pursuing. But there is still no specific assignment.

Good News - The good news is that the Provincial thinks I should stay in New York, so I will be in residence at 83rd Street, and am now officially the chaplain for the NY Notre Dame alumni association. Further good news - he wants me to explore ways to have a greater Jesuit presence in the arts, ways to support Jesuits in the arts and to encourage youngr Jesuits who are interested in the arts. I have been exploring one good possibility - that conversation is still under way - and we'll see what else develops.

So there are still a lot of unknowns, and technically I am still "on sabbatical" until the end of August, but the possibilities all look good.

Those of you who have been praying - don't stop. Those who haven't - start.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

RAMBLINGS - July 18, '07



Here I am out at dinner with a friend celebrating her birthday. She had several other friends I had not met before, so I not only had a nice time, I got to meet new people. I think the technical term there is win - win.







I am a Rotarian and I belong to an Eclub. That means our Rotary Club does not meet "in the flesh" but rather exists on the Internet. We have a weekly program, runs projects - all the things other Rotary Clubs do. This week, I was in charge of the program, complete with pictures. So if you'd like to visit a Rotary Club - no charge - go to


http://www.recswusa.org/.

Recswusa - Rotary E Club of South West USA

OTHER ITEMS - No, no word yet on an assignment. You think that wouldn't be a headline?

I went to see GYPSY the other night, with Patti Lupone. It may be the best production of that show ever staged. Lupone does two difficult things - she is beath-takingly Mama Rose and at the same time, does not so dominate that everyone else disappears. There are other wonderful actors and they get a chance to shine - the whole show is not geared to showing off "the star" and the result is spectacular. Outside of some moments at the Metropolitan Opera, perhapps the best things I've seen since I've been back in NY.

Recently I did a recording for a guy who had written a Christmas song, and wanted to send a demo to a publisher. Yesterday I did a recording for a guy who had written a song for his wife for their anniversary. Now this second guy is a composer, and a good one, and it's a really good song. Maybe there's a niche market out there for a boutique singer - you know, you hire me for special events? I could work out a deal with a studio..... tomorrow I'm going to sing at the Guild for the Blind. (That's a freebie.)

And on we all go....

Sunday, July 08, 2007

Summertime Snapshots

Greetings from the Big Apple!

No news yet on the "What is Father John going to do next?" front. That will certainly be a headline item when it finally comes to pass.

But in the meantime - lest you think I have been doing nothing but playing piano and studying music - and I have certainly been doing those things with great energy and enthusiasm - I have made a couple of small trips - and even remembered to take the occasional photograph. So in a greatly abbreviated form - and those who have spent time with the collection of Massive Missives know that abbreviated is not my usual style - here are some of the things I have been doing here in my old home town,and elsewhere around the U.S.




DENVER



I went to Denver to visit some wonderful friends, and attend the high school graduation of one of my multitude of god children. (She is the striking blonde in the middle of the picture.) The ceremony was held outdoors, with the mountains in the background, and was very impressive. It's an all girls school, with very high standards, and the listing of awards and scholarships to various colleges was outstanding. (I noted with pleasure a number of Jesuit schools - and Kyra is going to Fairfield, a Jesuit college in Connecticut.)

I stayed at a house overlooking a golf course - the picture is out my bedroom window, and just to the left is the second green and the third tee. I even got to play a round - about which nothing more will be said.


While I was there we went to see a road company of "Wicked" and had a family dinner at a fondue place, and on the Sunday following, the adults went to a baseball game. After the ceremony itself, there was a party back at the house, and as part of their entry into "adult" life, several of the young ladies noted that a couple of the men (including yours truly) were smoking cigars, and decided this was something they wanted to try. The dog even was invited to partake but he found the cigar much less interesting up close than he had thought it was going to be.
















SALT LAKE CITY
In mid-June, I went to Salt Lake City for the Rotary International Convention. I am a third-generation Rotarian, and have even been elected President of my Rotary Club for the 2008/09 Rotary year (July 1 08 to June 30 09.)

I got a room right across from the Convention Hall, which could NOT have been more convenient, and got to meet in person many of the club members I have only known on-line. I belong to an Eclub - we exist in cyber-space, an experiment for Rotary, and out club has members in South Africa, Italy, India, England and in nine states in the U.S. Our current President is from Japan - in fact, he's a Buddhist monk. And a wonderful photographer - in fact, he has an exhibit of his photographs currently touring in the U.S. (If any of you would like to the exhibit to come to your city, let me know and I'll put you in touch with the man who is organizing this.) We ate at wonderful restaurants, attended a concert by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, and I got to meet Bill Gates' father. I went to a professional soccer match, and we spent a lot of time talking to other Rotarians about our club and what we do. I managed to sneak in a piano recital, an evening of opera and show music put on by the Denver Opera, and a wild west afternoon, complete with ax throwing, square dancing and country music.



Here is our current President from Japan. His photos are part of a theme of International Peace which he captures in his pictures of moments of life in Japan.



Someone sent me this picture - I have no memory of this whatsoever.



Here is the new Board of Directors and officers for our club, at least those who were present. Someone thought that since we are an Eclub, it would be good to have computers set up in front of us - note the picture on the screen on the left. That's my computer, and the photo is of me diving when I was in Kwaj. I have it as my wallpaper currently. Someone kidded me afterwards - only you, Sheehan, could manage to get yourself in the same picture twice!



This young man who turned 13 in early July, is the son of a former District Governor from Florida. He has been at 7 Rotary International Conventions and his jacket is filled with pins and buttons from all those gatherings. Must weigh a ton. Ah, to be young....


Here are some of our members wandering the city at night - the original Mormon Church is in the background. I took the picture. There is another photo in which I apppear, but the shot of the church isn't as nice, and you all know what I look like anyway.



One of the attractions at the Convention Hall was this display of local wild life, stuffed and mounted. It's a little hard to see, but there is a gorgeous white mountain goat, and off to left, a moose. Many of the foreign visitors had their pictures taken next to the animals...







RHODE ISLAND
I obviously needed a vacation after all this running around, and so I went to spend a week at Little Compton Rhode Island with Joel and Adrienne Garreau. Each day I would sing in the afternoon, to keep the voice flexible, and people from the neighborhood took to walking past the house - sort of informal concert. They seemed to like it.

I played a little golf, and one day we went into Providence to visit their youngest daughter who is taking a summer course at Brown. Other than that - I did nothing. Slept late, ate, smoked cigars and read out on the deck overlooking the ocean, talked with my two old friends, and slept. (Did I say that already?)



Here is the house. Note the deck.


Here is the ocean. That's about all there was to take pictures of, except the magnificent meals. And that would only make you jealous, and me hungry.


I have managed to see a few shows - Legally Blonde (a friend of mine does the animals) and Curtains (I saw it the day after David Hyde-Pierce won the Tony) and Deuce (with Angela Lansbury and Marian Seldes and Bernadette Peters. Bernadette isn't in the show but she was in the audience the night I went, and that was almost as good.) I've been to some concerts, a local opera production of Falstaff that was perhapps not great music but great fun, and a seminar at the Council for Foreign Relations where I got Amity Shlaes to sign her latest book for me. I sing occasionally at the Lambs Club, and did a demo CD for a guy who write a new Christmas song, and wanted to send a demo to a publisher.

I watch what I eat and I walk at least an hour every day and I STILL can't lose any weight. And to quote Forrest, that's all I have to say about that.

A dear friend, Tony Montfort, died in London. He had cancer, and his death was not a surprise - I had visited him in March, but although I know it will continue, I am tired of losing friends.


Here we are at lunch in March - Tony is on the right, and the other man is Isidore Bonabom, a Ghanaian priest I have known since he was a Novice. He is a great man himself, and will do great things for the Church in Africa. I'm the one with the beard.

More when I know. Love and prayers and hugs to all.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

BAAA BAAA BAAA

Just to let all my friends and fans know

I'm a Lamb

This does not refer to my placid disposition but rather to announce that I have just been elected to The Lambs Club, the first professional theatrical club in New York, founded in 1874. When Fred Astaire was inducted, he said, "I feel like I've been knighted." I know how he feels.

OK, I'm boasting, but in my view of the universe, this is big stuff.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

THE LAST DAYS IN ENGLAND



WHO IS THIS MAN?
AND WHY DOES HE HAVE A GUN STUCK IN MY RIBS?

You'll just have to read through the rest of the blog to find out the answers to these questions, and questions we haven't even asked yet.

Ready? Popcorn salted and buttered, napkins on the table next to you, cold drink in your hand, answering machine turned on so you don't even have to get up to go to the phone? Speaking of going..... ok, everything done? Onwards!!!!

For those of you with short-term memory loss, I'm back in England, my foreign vacation time is rapidly drawing to a close, and there we are. And the butter knife reference at the end of the last missive was harkening back to the Tales of Uncle Wiggly, one of the great rabbit story books of all time.

Tuesday, March 27 - Went to bed late so I had no guilt about sleeping late either. Slept well. Coffee and off for lunch with the Gales (remember them from before I went to Austria? They're still there) It was a nice visit. We ate at their house, and Christine is always apologizing that we're not going out, but she is a wonderful cook and we have much better food than if we went to a restaurant. They had several Cuban cigars for me as a present (Don't tell U.S. Customs) They both smoke cigarettes, so I smoked a cigar (inside a house!!!) while they did their cigarette thing, and we chatted, and it was wonderful. "Chatting" with Keith is a combination of a history lesson, a current events course and the best of the Round Table from the old Algonquin Hotel. I went back to the house, and between travel and weather and the good meal and a great cigar, I ended up deciding to spend the evening at home. Alan Fernandes came by with his daughter - Magda, his wife, was sick with tonsillitis - they are leaving for Poland tomorrow, so at least I got the chance to meet the next generation. Stayed home and watched tv and did some writing and generally enjoyed being alone in the house. Probably the last time I will have THAT particular sensation for a long time.

It's one of those paradoxes of life - one of the reasons I became a Jesuit instead of a parish priest was precisely because of community. Yet since I've been ordained, I've spent an awful lot of my Jesuit life without Jesuit community. In Lagos we were so few and we spent a lot of time on the road, so either I was visiting somewhere or Peter or Ray were out doing their visitations. And on Kwajalein I lived alone. I love being back in New York in a community - and yet those moments of solitude, like that night at Wimbledon, when I had the whole house to myself - that too was wonderful.

Wednesday, March 28 - Once consciousness intruded, and hot water poured over me and into me in the form of strong black coffee, I went out and got a ticket at the Embankment for the evening concert, and then went on to Westminster Cathedral and bought some presents and did some wandering. I love wandering. I would have gone into the Cathedral just to visit and pray but it costs about tend pounds to walk in - that's $20. A lot of money to say a prayer, so I went to the gift shop, which was free.

My wanderings brought me to the park near the concert hall, and I sat outside and smoked a cigar and watched people lining up for the wheel, and just enjoying the warm weather. Along the river there is one section with a lot of people in make-up pretending to be statues, and musicians of different kinds (and great differences in the degree of talent they bring to the endeavor). I had an ice cream and walked along the river, browsed through the open book stalls. After a bit I went into one of the eateries, and had a very nice dinner, reading my book in between courses. This was not haute cuisine, mind you, but a nice humus and warm bread for an appetizer, and a burger too big to handle. Coffee and off to the concert hall for the pre-concert talk. Two guys (Roger Nichols and Richard Longhorn) very knowledgeable and very entertaining, it was a great talk.

The program itself was very interesting - the London Philharmonic at Queen Elizabeth Hall under the direction of Vladimir Jurowski - very tall fellow, given to wearing a long coat. The opening was Honegger, Pastorale d’ete, then the Debussy Rapsodie for saxophone and orchestra and the Saint-Saens Piano Concerto #5 (Egyptian) which is not played much and it certainly should be. In the second half we had the Debussy danses for harp and string orchestra and then Honegger again, Symphony 4. Beautifully played, a most interesting program, everyone was most enthusiastic. A gentle walk back to Victoria and an easy trip home.


Thursday, March 29 - My last day actually in London. I went down and visited Farm Street, the Jesuit community that houses the Provincial offices, and the very famous Church just off Berekeley Square (where someone once heard a nightingale sing and wrote a song about it) - I dropped in on Kevin Fox, an old friend who is leaving as Treasurer before the end of the year, and then went to Mass in the Church. They have redone the lighting there and it makes a huge difference. It is a gorgeous church, and you now can see that it is a gorgeous church. After Mass I visited with Paul Hamill - he is the Socius to the Provincial, and we were in theology together in Toronto, and then I joined Fr Pearsall (who is the Pastor of the Church) and others for lunch and coffee. Another of those really nice moments of Jesuit community.

From there I walked and walked - did a little shopping, checked out the locale of where we would be dining, did some reading in Leicester Square and found an internet café and worked there for about an hour. Got to the restaurant at the agreed upon time - Elsie (remember my friend from the first London sojourn? Yup, same one.) arrived about 20 minutes later but we had loads of time, the restaurant, a Spanish place called LaTasca, is right around the corner from the theatre.

While I was waiting for her, I thought I would have a drink so I asked the cute little bartender lady if I could have a Pimm’s cup. Pause, puzzled expression on her face. “Pimms Cup?” Clearly this was something she had never heard of. I thought perhaps my accent (accent?) had confused her, so I tried again, with pretty much the same result. I pointed out the bottle on the bar - and she asked if I wanted that with ice. I started to explain how to make a Pimms and thought that this wasn’t going to work. Instead of that, let me have a scotch, straight up, no ice. Pause. Puzzled expression. “Scotch?” She went over to the bar and held up a Jim Beam bottle. Then another bourbon - then a Jamieson’s.

At that point I settled for a nice glass of red wine.

The dinner was actually very good, for a pre-theatre, prix-fixed. (THAT is why English is such an awful language - two words pronounced the same, and spelled soooo differently.) The menu had a list of choices, and you got to choose three, and a glass of wine. We had a lovely meal, and then off to the theatre. “Security” required that you check a bag (no charge) and so I checked my coat as well.

Now I had seen Evita when it first came to New York, and I don’t know that I would have gone to see it again. It was WONDERFUL!!! They have changed the script, cut out some scenes and made the first act pretty much all music. The Che Guavera character has been reduced to a scruffy commentator and the edge of conflict between rich and poor has pretty much been sanded smooth. But when the first act ended and I looked at my watch, 55 minutes had sped past. The title character was very good, a little hoarse but a big voice and she knew how to use it. The others around her were also very good, and it was a very pleasant surprise. The husband was about eight feet tall and the Evita was about 4'10" so the director didn't have them standing together very much - but it was a very good show.

After the show I took a cab and visited my friend Patricia Shour. She knew I wouldn’t want a lot to eat (one cannot visit a Lebanese house without eating something. Civilization as we know it would simply collapse.) So she had arranged for a wonderful sushi spread. We had a lovely visit and she drove me home, with her GPS navigator keeping us company all along the way. What a lovely way for my last night in London. I could not go to bed, since I had to get at least one load of laundry out of the way so all would be ready when the ironing person came.

Friday, March 30 - Slept comfortably, although I did get up early to put in another load for washing. Then back to bed, and up again later on. Isidore Bonabom came from London, and we walked over to Tony’s and the three of us went out for lunch at a pub that is in a converted old firehouse. Very nice food. The day was cold and rainy and it was very cozy to be inside with good food and good friends.

Isidore is a Jesuit from Ghana whom I have known since he was a Novice. He is ordained, and has finished a Master's degree in Human Rights and in August will finish a law degree. He has gotten permission to go on and get a Phd, but may take a year before beginning that to do some apostolic work. He's a very good man, and will be one of the great figures of the new Province, I am sure.



OK, I was kidding about the gun. Tony Montfort, Isidore is next to me - and by this point, you better know who I am.



After lunch we took Isidore to the train, Tony went to his house, and I went back to Jesuit Missions for packing and last minute whatever I did. Tim, the director of Jesuit Missions, was going out to Germany in the morning. The rest of the day was visiting and packing.


Saturday, March 31 - The car came at 4:30 to take me to the airport. Same guy who had picked me up, but this time he HAD his wallet. Of course, this time he didn't need any money. I spent a full 45 minutes in the check out line, talking with people. And while we were in line, the length of the line more than doubled behind us. Once I had a boarding pass I headed for customs and security, where we were treated to a double security check, once for coats and luggage and another entirely separate operation for taking off your shoes. I wonder what the British expression is for boondoggle.

But wait - when we got to the gate itself, there was another security check. And because of the beard? Or maybe it was the hat? I got the full treatment. Sigh. As my grandmother used to say, if they were any smarter they wouldn't have the jobs they've got. And most of them can barely deal with this one.

At the check in line they had been asking for volunteers to be left behind on this flight in exchange for a later flight and $500 - would have gotten me back to New York about two hours later so I signed up in a heartbeat, but no luck. Since myt bag had been specially marked, though, it did mean it came off the plane very quickly at the other end. It was a crowded plane and I had one of the truly stupidest flight attendants in my history of flying. Between their check in and their in air crew, gonna be a long time before I find myself on an American Airlines flight again.

I called the Super Shuttle people, but as good as they are at getting you to the airport, they are that bad at getting you from the airport. I ended up taking a cab. When I got to the residence, I discovered that American had even given us the wrong time - you know, "Welcome to New York, the local time here is...." They got THAT wrong!!! I had a quick bite of lunch, listened to the 1st act of the opera broadcast and took a nap. Then a lovely show, and off to the concert.

Concert? You just got off the plane!!! I know, but when I was on the road, this group I belong to had a great deal on tickets, so I ordered one. I went to the pre concert talk (I am finding that these pre-concert talks are very good. Sometimes they are free, sometimes there is a charge. In this case, the guy doing it was more enthusiastic than organized. Very knowledgeable but not the best presentation.

During the concert itself, I sat next to a woman from Tennessee who is with the Met Opera auditions, and I learned from her that the final concert was the next day. So when I got home I went on line, and got myself a ticket for that event as well. This eveing's program Mozart Piano concerto in B flat major, with Radu Lupu playing and Colin Davis conducting, and the second half was Sibelius, the Lemminkainen Suite, Op 22. Gorgeous music - the touch of the pianist was amazing, light and delicate and almost casual in his approach - he sort of lounged back in his seat (played on a chair with a back and he used it) and the Sibelius, which I did not know at all, was breath-taking. I was glad for the pre concert talk for both of the pieces, made them much more interesting and in the case of the Sibelius, easier to understand and follow.

And thus endeth my sabbatical month of travel and reminiscence and wandering. It was a good time, and it is also good to be back. I look forward to getting back to making my own music - during the whole month I never played a piano once. And exploring New York and friends here.

Just to keep things interesting here are two more pictures of me doing sabbatical things:


On Easter Sunday I went with my good friend Jessica (for whom I am always available as a "Boy Toy") and her sister to hear Barbara Carroll, an 84 year old piano player, singer, cabaret superstar. Jessica is next to me, then Barbara, then Jessica's sister. Yes, that's not a typo - 84. And she is WONDERFUL!!!





Fr. John at the Metropolitan Opera. Unfortunately not on the stage, but I'll take what I can get. The other distinguished bearded gentleman is Bob Trien, a friend who is a composer (currently working on two Broadway shows at the same time) and his friend from Boston who drives down to go to the opera at the Met.

OK - time for a break. (Hey! Who said Thank God?)

There will be more stories and adventures. Since coming back I've been to a symphonic salon, the Met Auditions final concert, several other concerts including the Western Hemisphere premiere of a German opera (I won those tickets on a radio contest) and a bunch of other stuff.

You and yours remain in my prayers -and if I don't know you, I hope you enjoyed the odd adventures of Fr. John, unemployed Jesuit priest.

GAMING WITHOUT GAMES

We continue the narrative so rudely interrupted by the technical limitations of this blog site.

Thursday, March 22 - Last day. Up earlier than normal, with interesting and different dreams. Down for an early breakfast and decided to treat myself to bacon and eggs - very nice. Checked email, nothing special, sent a few and off to try and get everything into the suitcase. I hope someone in Gaming has a scale, so I can check the bag against the BA weight. I will leave the broken shoes there, so that should give me some extra space. The only things I will have added are the presents, which are small, so I should be ok. Checked out - treated myself again to a cab to the train station, and discovered there was a train leaving at 11:10 instead of the 11:34 I was aiming for, so I checked that it stopped at St. Polten, where I make my first of several changes today, and it did, so off I went.

Note: what with security and small seats and increasing restrictive luggage and carry-on rules, trains are starting to look better and better. They take longer - although sometimes, when you have to factor in how far in advance you need to get to the airport, and the time you spend waiting for luggage, and traveling to and from the airport, it is not always a tremendous savings. It is more expensive, but as I think back, a number of the tourists with whom I have spoken have been using trains, even going to places like Parish and Amsterdam.

I was in a compartment with one other person, a young girl who was heading for Wien (Vienna for you non-German speakers.) Not long after leaving Salzburg, the beautiful forest and mountains covered with snow changed to green, green, green. The recent snowfalls have apparently not gotten this far. Comfortable seats, large windows, people who come around and ask if you want anything to eat or drink and then they bring it to you, and they don’t expect a tip. The seats recline, the head rests move up and down, the end seats have little tables that pull up and there are even two plugs for your computer. The trains are quiet, and when the schedule says that a train leaves at 11:04, you can pretty much set your watch on it - that train is leaving at 11:04, not :05 or :06. Be on it or be left behind. So when I looked at my schedule for today and saw that the time difference between arriving at one station and leaving on the next train was sometimes 4 minutes - no worries, if OBB (the Austrian train network) says I can do this, I can do it. (Although getting the earlier train out of Salzburg makes that particular connection a little easier.)

As I was packing this morning, I was reflecting on the time in Salzburg, and what had been the most annoying thing? CNN. How they can call themselves a news organization with a straight face is beyond me. This place has them as the only English language station (in Innsbruck there was also BBC). I almost wish I were teaching again, so I could use them as an example of slanted words and assumed prejudices. They are doing a week on India - a week! - and it is essentially a commercial, telling us how wonderful this place is and how important to the future of the world, and we achieve this by interviewing a group of 18-25 year olds. Sigh. Don’t get me started. Alright, I am started - let me finish before I really wind myself up. Some of their caption reporting even contradicts facts in their own reporting - but it is much more dramatic to say “The President of Zimbabwe threatens to expel foreign diplomats - the American Ambassador has already left” than to honestly note that while he had in fact left, it was for a previously scheduled meeting in South Africa, and that he would shortly be returning (unless the CNN reporting so angers Zimbabwe that they don’t let him back in). They refuse to let CNN report from inside the country because they classify them as “enemy agents,” and while I am firmly in the camp that thinks that Mugabe and his cronies are crazy, I don’t know that in this case they are entirely wrong.

Sidebar - I tried sending an email to CNN via their own web site. Twice I wrote out the message and in the little box where one mark positive or negative comment, I marked negative. Both times the mail was returned - and this from their own web site. The third time I did not mark the little box, and it got delivered just fine. I am not a conspiracy theorist, but I also am suspicious of too many coincidences.

Contrasting CNN to local television - there is a program that comes out of Munich, that is essentially a call-in game show. They have items covered up and you call in to guess what the item is. If you are correct, you win money. The longer the items remain unguessed, the higher the amount goes. At one point, a correct answer could have brought you E15,000 (That’s something in the neighborhood of $20,000.) Surprisingly enough, there seem to be very few calls. I couldn’t figure out how to do the calling between countries from my hotel room or I might have given it a shot. They have attractive young women who have to have a talent for filling space, talking during the time there is no action, encouraging the viewers to call.

Now the strategists among you have figured out that it is to your benefit, even if you think you know an answer (and a board can have six or seven items to be guessed) to wait and let the money amount get larger. Of course, if you wait, someone else may sneak in ahead of you and you will have lost out. But even with that there seems to be not a lot of action. I had seen the program a couple of times, and the I saw it in the evening, and discovered the extra added attraction - apparently at some point in the evening (definitely after the “children’s hour”) the attractive young hostess starts taking off her clothes. True. She gets down to bikini, and then - TARA - topless. Even THIS does not encourage phone calls, at one point last night she was offering E500 for the next phone call, even a wrong answer. (Somehow, even if I could have figured out the phone, it did not seem the venue for them to announce that “Father John” had just won E500. Someone did, of course. Not a Father.

The train ride was gentle, but the time in between trains at each station was minimal (except for the first one, where I had taken the earlier train). At the second stop, I walked off one train, and onto the other, literally as the whistle was blowing. I did get some writing done, some work on a crossword puzzle and a really good lecture on Tchaikovsky and Dvorak. I got off that train, and as I arrived at the bus stop, the bus came. I had specifically asked in Salzburg about the ticket being good to Gaming Markplatz and they had assured me it would be and of course it wasn’t. But the driver was so disgusted at the people in Salzburg he refused to charge me. The land continues to gentle, and it is really quite pretty, with snow on the mountains and later on even in the streets, but the dogwood and the forsythia are in full bloom. As long as you’re not a dogwood, it’s lovely to look at.

When I got to MarktPlatz Gaming, the Mortensens were there in force to welcome me, and we walked up a couple of blocks and to the car. John took my big bag and the little one took my finger and off we went. Dropped my bags off at the pension, and I registered, and then went back to their flat for coffee and fresh muffins and playing with the girls. I definitely energized them. I had brought a crystal cross for Marietta and a bunny with an Austria shirt for Maggie and they were both a great hit. We played and bounced and ate and read stories and we were snuggling down for a sleep when John and Ginger (John’s sister) came in. Dinner together and then they were going to choir rehearsal. I would like to have gone, but I wondered if my presence was going to excite the young ladies, and Beth rather thought it would, so I went back to the pension, unpacked and settled in for a quiet, and early, evening.

We are going to Vienna tomorrow, and John is going to pick me up at 7. I wrote a note saying I would not need breakfast - I don’t want to be faced with a bathroom break on the road. They seem only to have one channel on the tv - or I don’t know how to manipulate it. No remote so it is all push button. Bathroom down the corridor and bath across the hall - but I seem to be the only person here, so it isn’t a great hardship. No soap - that could prove a little trickier. John said he thinks he can figure out my computer problem - they have wireless in the house - and they have a piano, and of course, I brought none of my music except the scales. Everything conspires to make me think this is really a vacation.

A word about people - some of the more astute may be quietly asking yourselves, “Who ARE these people and where did they come from?” Ask and you shall receive, as it says on a tea towel somewhere. And here we go, back through the mists of time to the last 1960’s, where I am doing my college thing, and a young actor catches my eye, one of the best I have seen in a looong time. And he is going out with this young lady, and I forego one of my cardinal rules about not getting involved in other people’s relationships and I try to convince him that he should NOT marry this girl.

He did - and many children later, she has forgiven me and we have become fast friends. One of their daughters married a guy named John Mortensen, and he is a theologian, and when I was in Rome doing one of my Tertianship visits, they came and visited me, we celebrated Mass in Father General’s chapel and had lunch. Last January I went to Tulsa for the wedding of another of their daughters, and I met John’s sister Ginger. John is teaching at and finishing his PhD at the International Theological Institute in Gaming, Austria, and Ginger works in the Administration there. John and Beth have two little girls, Marietta who is about 5 and Magdalena who is around three. And another is on the way. John is finishing up in June and taking a job somewhere in the west of the U.S. - after many years of being out of the country they’re coming back, and all the families are delighted. When they heard in January that I was going to be in Austria, I was threatened with death and dismemberment if I did not come and visit, and while I can easily be bought, I am even more subject to intimidation, so I put Gaming on the schedule. As it turned out, the weekend I was coming was a weekend filled with events (see below) and so it was a GREAT weekend. Everybody up to speed? Bravo - read on.

Friday, March 23 - A few words about Pension Fruhstuck Doris Eder. The room is clean and the largest I have had, faces the street and the brook across the street and the mountains behind the brook. (There is a picture or two.) The curtain rod is old and nicked and so you have to use a clothes hanger to move the curtain either open or closed. The bathroom (ie the room with the bath) is across the hall and the WC (the little chair with the flushing thing - and yes, here they have again the shelf design) is down the hall and around the corner. (Note the picture of the sign in the WC.)







There is a sink in the room - but no soap. First hotel I’ve ever been in with no soap. There is soap in the bathroom - I may steal it. There is a TV is the room, and I discovered it gets two channels. Actually it gets five channels, but only showing two programs. There is a large bed and a small commercial marshmallow and a large albeit somewhat flat pillow. Along one wall is a cupboard arrangement for hanging and storing clothes - lots of room (I think more than in my room in New York) and little bed lights on the little night tables on both sides of the bed. There is a small table in the corner with two chairs - and you’ve seen my room.

Oh - there is a radiator under the window. As far as I can tell, it is a decorative piece, because it was certainly not on last night, does not go on, and the temperature in the room was a brisk 61 degrees Fahrenheit. Those of you who know me know that one of the things I don’t like is cold - and especially not in a bedroom. On a ski slope, on an ice skating rink, inside of a fridge where the beer is stored - cold is ok. Outside, there are times when cold is unavoidable. In a bedroom? No. (OK - I exaggerate. The radiator does go on during the daytime and off at night, which, I gather, is pretty much the custom around here. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. A cold nose is a healthy sign for a springer spaniel. A cold nose is a healthy sign for a springer spaniel. When this child of God wakes up with a cold nose, you probably had better take a walk somewhere where I am not until my nose and that to which it is attached warms up.)

So as I arise this brisk Friday morning (any time I use brisk twice in two paragraphs, we are not happy) to prepare for our dash into Vienna, I am right on the brink of being grumpy. I had left a note for the folks here saying no breakfast since I would be leaving early - just as well, I need to find a cheerful disposition with which to have a conversation with the landlady about the living arrangements. The Mortensens had tried to find me another room before I came, something a little closer to where they live (although the walk is not bad) but the pensions that they usually use were filled. And this one has lots of empty rooms. Should have been a warning. (Someone in the third row just said, “Wow, he’s cranky.” Yup, you got it.)



The view from the hotel bedroom window looking left - which could be north. Or maybe not. Definitely left, going away from downtown Gaming.



The view from the bedroom window looking right. Which could be South. Or maybe not. But definitely heading toward Gaming.


The family Mortensen came by and picked me up and we were off to Wien (non-German speakers, refer above.) The children came too, and part of the trip was Fr. John telling stories. (I don’t always refer to myself with the clerical title but since the Paterfamiliar, the head of the house, is also named John - minimizes confusion.) I would start a story and then Marietta would add something when I pointed to her, so I never quite knew where we might be going with a story line. We parked at the Staatsoper (Vienna Opera House) and they went on to the US Embassy to get some paperwork notarized and I went wandering. I know several people in Vienna, but I had not realized that Gaming was so close - I would have tried to fly out of Vienna (about 90 minutes away by train) instead of slaburg (between 4 and 6 hours away, depending on connections. Ah well.) I didn’t have any address mit, so I figured I would just say goodbye to Vienna in my own wandering way. I went to the museum of the opera house, paid a visit to St Stephen’s Cathedral, and St Michael’s Church, saw the Lippizaner Museum (the famous trained horses) and then (with a stop at a little shop that had a great deal on some CD’s) to Music Haus, a five floor exploration of sound and the history of western music. Lots of interactive stuff and would have been great fun for someone like me - but just ahead of me were three floors of young teenage kids - lots of noise and energy and banging and whomping, some doing the musical experiments with MP3 players in their ears. It was not pleasant and so I went through fairly quickly. Even the gift shop was wall to wall kids, so I didn’t spend much time. It looked like it would have been fun. (By the way, for those who keep track of such things, weather in Vienna was overcast and cold but no precipitation. After years in a place where pretty much the only weather variation is dry or wet, this still has an interest for me.) I also found two Irish pubs, the Pickwick Club (for English speaking types) and a fascinating Russian shop run by two guys who are definitely never going back. I think one can’t go back, but I didn’t push that too much. But I did get in my walking, and did get to see Vienna again, even if only on a very superficial level.

Thanks to the wonder of the modern mobile phone, the Mortensens called when they had finished, and we met at a little restaurant for lunch. I normally don’t do lunch but I had not had breakfast before we left and so I had a caviar sandwich and some penne in a cream sauce with salmon (Friday in Lent, you know) and then we headed back - with a stop at a McDonald’s for a treat. I was still full from lunch so I passed - and made a mistake. Austria does dairy really well, so even at Mcd’s, a yogurt with fruit is something special. Even better than a McSunday. Ah well, next time I walk pass an Austrian McDonald’s, I will know better.


The family Mortensen and their trusty red car



John had to go to work, so we went back to the house and I read a story to the girls, and we played, then Marietta had to go to her catechism class. I tried a major system reset to see if that would clear the problem on the wireless - nope. Played with Magdalena until it was time for church. By this time (you weather-oriented readers) it was raining heavy and cold rain, almost sleet. We visited the newly refurbished Byzantine chapel, where many of the icons had been done by students (and others are for salein the gift shop). Mass in the large chapel - in English, no homily, celebrant and to co-celebrants (who were dressed in orange robes - interesting) with pronounced eastern European accents. John told me that Fr. Fessio had been asked to leave Ave Maria, and then a day later, he was back as a teaching professor, but with no classes. Definitely something political happening there. (Fessio is a very well-known conservative Jesuit.)

Home for a hot bath for the girls, and email for John. When Ginger came home we shared some vodka - to help keep away the chill, of course. Home for some writing and dozing and finally to bed.

Saturday, March 24 - Ralph will be buried today. Part of the dream was a serious death threat to me, enough so that I moved out of where I was living and went into hiding. Room went down to 62. But the good news is there was lots of hot water for a shower. And the better news is that when one does have fruhstuck at Pension Doris Eder, it is lovely. Very nice breakfast room, set apart, all set and ready, with semmeln and kase und fleisch, hot fresh coffee and the cooked egg was the best of the trip. I am, after breakfast, in a MUCH better mood. It is snowing out - the skies are grey - it is lovely but probably not what the planners of the day had in mind. Poor Ginger, whose whole weekend of visitors and special ceremonies will be influenced by weather. They all say this is the worst weather they’ve had all winter. Up to now, virtually no snow.

John and Ginger came by around 9 to pick me - nice way to start the day. She always brings a fresh burst of energy and just joy when she enters a space. I went into the chapel and started working on the morning breviary. Ginger went to her office, and John went to run errands, later to go back and collect Beth and the kids. A nun came up and introduced herself - turned out to be the head of the Basilian Sisters. She is based in Pennsylvania but of course they have nuns all around the world, and she was visiting some here in Gaming. A woman came and joined her, turned out to be the daughter of the President of Ave Maria University, who is here running a catechetical program. I might end up in Florida yet. The choir rehearsed so there was music right up to the time the ceremony started. The father of the baby (himself a priest) stopped by to ask if I wanted to concelebrate, and I declined. Might have been a mistake. Great outfits.

Byzantine liturgy - most done in old Slovak. Baptism and Divine Liturgy (ie, Mass) 2 hours and thirty minutes and that’s without taking up a collection. Lots of singing - I think those who actively participated made the sign of the cross a couple of hundred times and I am NOT exaggerating. Lots of concelebrants, both Roman and Byzantine (did I mention the GREAT outfits?) And the music was lovely. Lots of processing and parading around - the censer has bells on it, so every time they use the incense (and they use it a lot) it not only smokes but sounds. I won’t attempt to describe the whole liturgy but at one point the Bishop took the baby and held him up (a little like Kunte Kinte in Roots) and processed with him held aloft down the enter aisle to present him to the congregation. He had perhaps been placed on a restricted liquid diet before the great event - there was no moment suitable for filming and sending to YouTube, all the participants remained dry. He was then taken back up and placed on the altar, where he was retrieved by his parents.

When we were going up to communion, John and Beth were up in the choir loft, singing, and the girls were on the right side of the church with Ginger. When Magdalena caught sight of me, she left Ginger and came and joined me in line, put her hand in mine. I received communion, she got a blessing with the chalice, and then came back and stayed with me a while. Then she went back and joined her sister and Ginger. Very matter of fact. Remember, this is a not quite three year old, who talks quite coherently thank you and has definite opinions about practically everything.

After the celebration in Church, there was an agape - a reception - with cakes and sandwiches and wine and the grandfather of the baby wandered around pouring a Polish schnapps that helped take the chill of the day, and anything else it came in contact with. Met a bunch of people at the Karthaus, including a friend of the President’s daughter, and a Franciscan who is about to return to Steubenville after five years here. He looks rather like an overgrown elf, white here, infectious smile and a real enthusiasm about meeting people. People aren’t quite sure about me - with the bear I look very Byzantine, and there are a lot of Bishops and Cardinals about this weekend for the dedication of the new Byzantine chapel, and I am wearing my silver cross and with the Notre Dame ring - they don’t quite know who I am or how to respond. And I don’t help them out at all, until we get into conversation. (I’m a BAAAAD boy!)

After the agape, we went back to the house so everyone could take a nap. And I mean everyone (well, except me). I stayed up and did email and wrote notes to people and cleaned out the in box a little. John was unable to fix my transmission problem, at least without going more deeply into the works of my machine than he wanted to do, and so I am still unable to take advantage of the wireless, and I can only hope someone will be able to get me up in London.

At one point Ginger came in, and I drove her to the bakery to get bread and then drove her to school and helped her unload, and then drove back. Fun to drive in Austria. People were awake when I got in, so we looked at pictures for a little, and then it was time to go back to the Karthaus. I went to the Byzantine Great Vespers (which, I learned, was also going to include a sub-diaconate ordination.) Beth and the girls went to the Ostermaarkt at the Karthaus and John went to his office. We met again at six for supper.

The Byzantine chapel is quite small and it was packed like a New York subway car at 5 pm. Archbishops and bishops and priests and dignitaries and lay folk to beat the band. I got there early enough that I got a seat next to Mother General, who watched over me. I had to leave early, and they got me out with minimal fuss as well. The Vespers is a little bit of a free for all - you sing pretty much whatever you want, and while western vespers is more strictly one side then the other, here you could sing one part, or the other part, or all the parts. You could sing melody but a lot of harmonizing was going on ad lib - and it was lovely. Some stood all the time, some stood and say according to a rubric I never figured out. But it was all lovely and in its own disorganized way, very spiritual. I hated to leave - I had thought an hour, but Sister had told me it would go a good 90 minutes - and the Mortensens were waiting, because I had invited them all to dinner at me at their favorite restaurant, in honor of John’s birthday.


The Byzantine Chapel, packed with people. See what I mean about the great outfits?




Here's another shot of the same event - the guy in the white plain hat is Cardinal Schonbrun. I definitely want one of those gold hats.



The restaurant is right there at the Karthaus, and is very gemutlich. And Austrian. The waitress was a little bit of a cold fish, but she went through the motions very nicely. As we got settled, she brought coloring place mats and crayons for the girls, and the menu was varied and interesting. I had a smoked trout as an appetizer, and a glass of red wine, and a ragout of deer meat and other stuff. Beth had a huge Greek salad and Magdalena had chicken nuggets and fries, and then two large pizza were for everyone else. We ended up taking home almost a whole pizza. I had a small piece of crepe with marmalade and coffee, while John and Beth split a chocolate brownie with ice cream and whipped cream and spun sugar decorations and sugar cookies - the girls helped them with that. And they dropped me off to recover from all this food. And the girls had been given a colored egg and a bag of meringue cookies at the Osterfest because they were so cute. Lorraine Hainsberry may praise young, gifted and black, but sometimes it is fun just to be young and cute.

While I’m writing, the tv is showing a soccer match between Ghana and Austria. Now given my varied backgrounds, who am I supposed to root for? On the one hand, I really and truly don’t care one way or the other. On the other, it is always more interesting when you are rooting for one side or the other. If it were Nigeria, I would certainly root for Austria. But Ghana?

Sunday, March 25 - Feast of the Annunciation, which the orthodox will celebrate today. The Roman Church, on the other hand, moves it back a day, keeping the Sunday precedence. And of course, in spite of all the warnings and conversations that THIS is the weekend when we go onto Daylight Savings Time, I forgot to change my clock ahead. I woke at 5:45 - which is really 6:45 - and remembered, so I still had time for a lovely hot shower and a chance to wake up before breakfast. Another dark and cloudy day, although no snow or rain. Yet. Tyrol music in the background in my room as I write and dress.

Idle thought from yesterday - in my life I have celebrated Mass in English, French, German, Italian, Marshallese, Latin, Russian, Igbo, Yoruba and Hausa. I have been a concelebrant at liturgies in the Greek Orthodox, Russian and Slavic Byzantine Churches, the Maronite Church, and in Masses in Malagasi, Swahili, Yappese, Trukkese, and Pohnpeian. Not bad for a small boy.

Off to church - Ginger and John picked me up, I went in again and prayed the office. This morning, if someone asked, I was ready to concelebrate - and of course, no one asked. I could have simply gone up, but I was a little shy. One of the Byzantine priests came by and we chatted for a bit but he never asked and so I was a member of the congregation for the day’s celebrations. Long chat with a local woman who was very disappointed that everything in the booklets for the day was in English, since she “had” no English. But she thought I spoke very well, and at one point asked if my ancestors were German. (I know - sin of pride. But more than one person has complimented me on my German. I think it is the accent more than the content, but I do seem to be able to get by in most situations. And German speakers feel very comfortable speaking away, once we have made contact.)

The dedication of the new small chapel and Divine Liturgy - began at 10 AM, ended at 1:45. We started in the big church - processed to the small chapel (I ducked out and went into the sacristy and had a much better view) and then back to the big church. Seven bishops and two cardinals - several of the bishops are “underground,” in situations where they cannot be as public, and they found this great coming together of western and eastern, lots of lay support - it was all very encouraging for them. Cardinal Schonbrunn was the western cardinal and the eastern cardinal - long grey beard, short man, and almost entirely blind, had to be led pretty much everywhere - was a delight. Did a homily in English, with someone else translating into German, based on an African fable. The service itself was in five languages - English, German, and three Slavic. (We don’t count the Greek Kyrie Eleison.)

Short reception afterwards and then everyone trooped or rode up the hill for lunch at a catering school for girls. The Monsignor who is one of the school officials talked too long, but otherwise it was very nice - good food, the girls at the school cooked and served - this was a test for them, and my scorecard would have given them high marks. I had never had serviettenknodel - I joked a knodel made from old napkins? Then I tasted it, and unfortunately, the joke was closer to the dish than I would have liked. But everything else was lovely.


At the luncheon, just before it started. The priest is a former student, the young woman was one of his teachers. We had lunch together and I discovered that she has the same birthday that I do. Not the same year, of course, but the same day and month. Another 13 person.





Home a little before five for some sitting and talking - John took another shot at my computer without success. Got an email from Brian Porter - he finally has a replacement. The guy is in training, so it will probably be another 18 months, but there is light at the end of the tunnel. We prayed the rosary at one point - Marietta led one decade in Latin - not bad for a 5-year old. John was going to take me home, and we stopped and got Ginger on the way - and she insisted I stay for a while, so we went back, had some drinks, John and Beth went to bed and the two of us stayed up and talked until about 11. Interesting girl - Ah if I were twenty years younger and not a Jesuit. Well, maybe in the next lifetime.



Just before we left for the train, we all stood together and the baby sitter took our picture. I'm the one with the beard. Ginger is the one I have my arm around. Everyone else should be easy to identify.




Monday, March 26 - Twice in one trip! Yup, for the second time on this trip, I got caught in a bathroom with no toilet paper. Not precisely the best way to start a day. After a lovely shower and shampoo, I ran diagnostics on the computer and even the wireless section and 1394 came through passing. So I STILL have no idea what is wrong here, except that I still think it has to be something hardware. Breakfast - blueberry or boysenberry instead of raspberry - ah well. Packed - I think I’m ok on weight - they are so tough these days about weight, it’s 23 kilos, and if you’re the least bit over they charge you a HUGE amount. Paid my bill - the four days here are a little bit more than one day in Salzburg. Went over to the house and visited for a little, and then John and the two girls and Ginger all took me to the train.

The first train was deserted, the second more crowded but got a nice seat and was in Salzburg in no time. Took a bus out to the airport, checked my luggage in a bag room and went back into town. Did a little email and just walked around - the weather was the nicest I had seen in Salzburg, and I was almost tempted to try for the salt mines again - but that would have been tempting fate. Back to the airport with reluctance - checked in and I was exactly 22.9 kilos. Boy I’m glad I threw away my broken shoes. I bought some duty free items to use up the last of my Euro and listened to a couple of lectures on one of my courses while waiting for the check in to start and then another for the flight to actually board. No exit row but a good seat, gentle trip, easy trip home by train and in the house before ten. No one else in residence, so I unpacked - did email (the computer worked fine, no problem) and watched a little tv and bed.

And here again seems a good place to let the popcorn popper do its thing, stretch the old legs (or the young legs, depending) and visit the porcelain chapel for a few moments of tension releasing meditation.

When we come back together, assuming the butter knife doesn’t run away with the jelly spoon, we’ll have

THE LAST DAYS IN ENGLAND
(Sounds a little ominous, doesn’t it? Well, it’s supposed to.)

And a special prize for anyone who knows what the closing reference is to (assuming the butter knife etc)

SPRECHEN SIE SHEEHAN?

LUCKY NUMBER 13

Those who know me know of my constant intersection with the number 13. I was born on the 13th (A Friday, what else?) and many important things in my life have happened on the 13th. I regularly get put in Room13 or seat 13 - and my Austria journey started, when else, but on the 13th of March.

Tuesday, March 13 - Up at 3:30, and I was ready when the cab came. For those who may not have had the experience lately, I‘m here to tell you that at 4 in the morning, it is still dark outside. Train to Clapham - train to Gatwick - train to north terminal - checked in, got an exit row seat, and was through security by 6:15. Got a newspaper, had something to eat. Boarded - and found my exit row seat wasn’t - in fact it was just in front of the exit row, and so had no reclining in the seat. I was not happy and let the attendant know and she did nothing. Later in the flight they passed out survey forms and pointedly did not give me one. I will write the company. (Grumble, whuffle, snort. I did write the company, and of course, nothing happened.) Took a bus into the city and with a phone call to the hotel, and some walking, found the hotel. Simple - nice room, not luxury but comfortable, view of the mountains out the window. My own shower and toilet, and my key opens the outer door. Breakfast included. There is a television - two channels in English (CNN and BBC news) and two or three in Italian and the rest in German. Nope, no stations in French. Some things do NOT change. Unpacked and did a little organizing and out for a walk.





Here is the view from my hotel room window. What can I say?








I discovered that I have done well in finding a place to stay. The hotel is right on the river, across from the Congress (a large convention and arts center) and the State Theatre, and the old city and very close to a lot of things I am interested in. I did get a map, to help re-acquaint me with the geography.

Traveling with a priest, even when he is traveling alone - I cannot claim to be responsible for the weather but today was breath-takingly beautiful. The sky was absolutely clear, a brilliant blue, and the mountains still have snow on the peaks, but the snow is off the lower slopes, and in the city, flowers are out everywhere and the grass is green. It was supposed to go the 60's today, and I am sure it made it.

I went out and spent about four hours just walking, trying to see what I remembered from the days when I was here as a student. One of the things I did discover was that I have not lost the knack of blending in - in the space of three blocks, two different couples asked me directions, in German - and I was able to answer one of the questions. Several weeks ago I went ice skating for the first time since 1992, and after a couple of shaky rounds, the old techniques came back and by the end of the session, I was starting to feel relatively comfortable - rental skates (in other words practically no blades, very dull) and a heavy crowd which meant heavily scored ice - but all in all, I was fairly proud of myself. The same thing is true with speaking German. I find myself struggling for words, but the accent is good and I was able to shop, ask directions, have a conversation with a woman who sat next to me on a bench while I was smoking a cigar (her late husband smoked a cigar and she wanted to enjoy the aroma. It was a good Cuban cigar I had bought in London.) The people in the hotel talk to me exclusively in German, and the exchanges I had when a student (where the clerk would figure out I was not Austrian and spent the whole transaction speaking to me in English, while I spoke only German) never took place. I started out in German, and apparently it sounded good enough so that anyone I spoke to stayed in German.




Here is the view of my hotel from the park across the river where I would go to smoke a cigar. See the pink building in the center of the picture? To the left of it is a brown building, and if you look closely, you can see writing on the wall. That's my hotel - my room is on the other side.




Idle observations - lots of dogs not on leashes in the city. They walk along near their owners and seem very well-behaved, and no one seems terribly worried about cleaning up after them. In one of the squares near the university there was a street musician playing an accordion, and this guy could play with any orchestra I have ever heard. A very accomplished musician. The tourist souvenirs in the old city seem about the same as when I was here, except the quality is a little lower and the prices are a lot higher. Obviously things have changed - the last time I was here was 1966 - but in a city like Innsbruck, a lot remains the same. I suspect that someone from the 1800's would still be able to find their way around much of the city, certainly the center section.

Later in the afternoon I walked through a park that is near where I am staying. Lots of kids playing - on one lawn area, there were about eight teen-age girls, all lying on the ground, with the head of one on the stomach of another, and so on, forming an interesting and attractive design. Lots of young art students were out with their pads, capturing different scenes in the park. In one area, two men were playing chess - with pieces larger than usual. The king was a little over 3 feet tall, and the other pieces were proportionate. And there was another set about twenty yards away not being used. They had an audience of about twenty. I wandered over and was immediately accepted - someone offered me a seat, and I watched for a while before continuing my walk. (Maybe it’s the beard? Or the hat?)

I ended the afternoon with a cigar, smoked along the bank of the river, watching people and the mountains. A young mother on roller blades went back and forth with her son, who was learning to use the blades. Lots of older people out, walking with younger people, walking with wheeled walkers - a couple of old women were pushing the wheelchairs of other old women. (This is where the woman sat on the bench and joined me for a talk.) Along the walk, just as I left the river walk to return to the hotel, there is a large crucifix with a life-size corpus and lots of flowers at the base, both planted and loose flowers.





Another view from slightly farther down the river. At sunset, the white on the mountains (that would be snow) turns pink and then golden. Rather takes your breath away, even if you haven't been smoking a cigar.




I stopped at a local market and bought a couple of drinks and some nuts for munching. Part of the goal for this part of the trip is to lose a little weight, so I will not be reporting on a whole lot of eating, although I will include favorite dishes on my trip of reminiscence.

It was a strangely emotional day. Some things I simply do not remember. Others I recognize when I see them, like the streetcar that I used to take to get back to the pension where I lived. I could not have told you the name - but when I saw the streetcar on the avenue, I recognized it. I found slivers of memory, a place where we had a drinking party, a store where I bought clothes

I called Mr Reading for his birthday - when I was here I hadn’t met him yet - and then went out for a stroll in the evening. Found an internet connection at the laundromat and did email for 30 minutes, went for a walk in the cool night air - the city is so quiet where I am - one cannot hear traffic or any other noise but the occasional rush of water in the river. Back for Mass and a shower, some nuts and a crossword, the evening hours - I will sleep well tonight.

Wednesday, March 14 - And I did. Lights out around 11, and slept until 8. Deep and involved dreams, although as is the way with dreams, most have dissolved. Said Mass, dressed and down to have breakfast (which is included with the room). Cereals, with milk or yogurt, fruit, ham and salami and cheeses (yes, plural) rolls and dark bread (three kinds) and butter and honey and jams (yes, plural) and sour cream and a dessert cake and eggs (hard-boiled, in the shell - I even remembered how to eat them) and juice and coffee and milk - one can make a breakfast of this. All fresh, good quality, sitting at a lovely table, looking out the windows at the mountains - and “When I’m 64" playing in the background. Globalization.

When I went back to the room, another thing I had forgotten - the windows open two ways. They open in, like a door. But if you move the handle up, the whole top part tilts in, so you can get fresh air without letting the whole world look into your life, or let the rain in, or whatever. The day is as beautiful as was yesterday - I am going to try to go up to Aldrans. And today I am definitely taking my camera with me. There are two things I had meant to bring and have forgotten - gloves, which does not seem like a major omission unless I decide to go ice skating, and a carry bag. I have the computer bag but it is a little big. I may see if there is a small version I can get for cigar things, a note book, maybe the breviary, like a small purse on a shoulder strap.

Walked and did email, bought a 24 hour rail card for the city buses and streetcars and a newspaper, walked and found the Jesuit church and the Jesuit community, walked and - I can get more enjoyment just out of walking the streets of a city than anyone I know. I don’t have to see things, like tourist spots or tourist attractions, I just enjoy the people and the city and what’s going on. Eventually I came across the Amras line, and so I went out to the end of the line, and walked up the hill. Now when I was a student I walked up this hill many times - I am here to tell you, I am no longer a student. My little heart was pounding at the top of the hill. The pension I lived in is now a co-op, and has been painted an unfortunate mustard yellow. But I took some pictures, and some pictures of the valley, because the weather continues gorgeous and the view continues breath-taking. THAT hasn’t changed in all the years.



On the road up the side of the mountain from Innsbruck to Aldrans - in the foreground is Schloss Ambrass.



More things I had forgotten - Schloss Ambrass, a local castle along the way, and the names of local hotels and other little towns in the area - won’t mean anything to you, but very nostalgic for me. I kept remembering meals at this place, someone who came visiting and stayed at this place, a birthday party in another place. I missed a bus by about a minute - and the next wasn’t for an hour - and I was not in the mood to schlepp down the mountain. So I read the newspaper, wandered around Aldrans, and relaxed. Another thing I had forgotten about - Servus. It’s an informal greeting - what reminded me? About six different people in the course of the afternoon greeted me with it. I kept looking behind me to see if a friend of their’s was right behind me, and it seemed to be me. Maybe I look like someone? Maybe it’s the beard? Or the hat?


Here is the Pension where I spent a wonderful year as a university student. My room was the little window all the way at the top.













This was the general view out my bedroom window, except three floors higher up. There is one night in the winter when they light fires on the mountain tops all over the valley.














Pretty much every day after breakfast and dinner, we would go out to the front porch and look at Innsbruck down below us. Sometimes it was a quick visit, sometimes we would stay for a while, just looking at the view and the valley. Often, in the wintertime, we could only see clouds below, blocking the view of the city, and the mountains above. But it was a ritual moment, and one most of us observed most of the time.







The little town of Aldrans, looking down toward Innsbruck.




The bus from Aldrans stopped at the Olympic ice rink, and I remembered reading that there was public ice skating on Wednesday afternoon, so now I can add to the list that I have skated at the Olympic ice rink in Innsbruck. I’m here to tell you that the rental ice skates in Innsbruck are no better than the rental ice skates in Central Park. I went into the city center and bought a small bag for carrying things, and I got some money from a cash machine, and I listened to the accordion player again, and just enjoyed the people. Went by a book store where they sold English books, and they had Wicked, the original book for the musical which I had seen in London - so I went in and found they were asking 16 euro - around 22 dollars. For a paperback! Not this child. Finally the pain in the feet was too great to be ignored, so I went back to the room and sat down for a while, unloaded my pockets and rested my feet - and then the day was so gorgeous I went out again.

Other odd things I notice: young people have an extraordinary number of piercings. Not all, not even a majority - but enough that I notice. And I am talking four in the lip, three in the nose, and in the cheek and the chin and the ears - on one poor face, perhaps ten or twelve piercings. Shops here still observe the mid-day closing - not all, but many will shut from 2 until 4 or some variation thereon, so they can go home and have lunch and rest, before coming back to continue the day. There is a lot of American tv, dubbed into German - I’ve seen House and Monk and several films and many others. I haven’t stayed long with them, but it’s interesting. There are some shows where the American dialogue is so fast that the Germans really have to zip along in order to keep up. Which makes it REALLY hard for me to figure out what’s going on. But I watch some tv every day, just to help get the sound in my poor head. (By the way - there IS French television, it only comes on in the evening. So I can flip through the dials and watch German, English, French AND Italian programs and pretty much know what’s going on in any of them. The German tv has much more informational programming than we do - and some of it is very interesting. Some, of course, is terminally dull. The end of the ski season has been getting a lot of publicity, as does football/soccer. Cricket gets a passing mention.)

I figured out that one reason I have been doing so well with my interchanges is that for the most part, I initiate the conversation, and so people are responding, and I already have a notion of what the answers might be, and the arena in which the conversation is taking place. I am less successful at eavesdropping than I am in conversation, and I suspect that is at least part of the reason.

Going out again involved taking a short walk and ending up on the other side of the river, again in the park along the river, with a cigar and a book (short stories in German, translated from an Israeli author who is absolutely hysterical. I don’t know what the original language was but I laugh out loud at least once in every story I have read thus far.) I recognized several of the people also out walking - an old woman pushing another old woman in a wheel chair, a very distinguished older woman walking with a younger woman I assume is a daughter. Some new people - a striking blonde on roller blades using ski poles. Lots of roller blades, and very few skate boards. What that means, I don’t know. Lots of dogs - most not on leashes but some are. For the next several hours, both in the park and later in the hotel, watching the sun set on the mountains was lovely lovely lovely. (Yes, three times, it was that good.)

Back to the hotel for some prayer time, and a rest and dinner in the hotel dining room. Very Tyrolean. Goulash, a spicy Austrian sausage and sauerkraut and roast potatoes and beer, and hot apple strudel with whipped cream for dessert. Not haute cuisine, perhaps, but wonderful. There was an older woman who was in the dining room when I was there at breakfast - she eats alone, reads German although I thought she might be English, and is very precise in her dress and how she eats. Two younger men were there - just drinking, not eating - and another man came in for a beer and to read the newspapers. I had a book and had a lovely quiet meal. Back to the room for two lectures in my music course, and a quiet night. Watched a little golf on tv, and bed.

Thursday, March 15 - The Ides of March. Slept until almost 8, shower and down for my breakfast. (I could get used to this.) Same menu as yesterday, slightly different cast of characters, good book in English that I am reading in small sections, so as to make it last longer. Stark is the name of the novel, and the author is Ben Elton and he is a wonderful writer and I shall immediately go forth and see what else he has written. Not wonderful in the Charles Dickens sense, but certainly in the Jeeves and Bertie Wooster sense. Wonderful characters, great writing style, immensely complicated plot which one follows with ease and I can hardly wait to see where it is going to go. The weather is very good - not quite as crisp as it has been the last two days, just gorgeous without other adjectives.

Checked email and spent the rest of the day wandering - went to the Dom and found an altar to Peter Canisius and spent some time in the prayer chapel. Wandered through the university and enjoyed the students enjoying the weather. Browsed in shops with no idea of buying and sat in the sun and did a very hard crossword puzzle - definitely a Thursday or a Friday. Home, with a stop to get a pizza. Ate a little, and then I took a nap. Slept for about 90 minutes. Did some writing - said Mass and dressed for the evening concert and wandered over to the Congress Hall.

And what a night it was! The Hall is huge, a regular convention center with many rooms and apparently a rather nice restaurant. There is a sign - the police won’t let you take bags or coats into the hall, and then they charge you for the coat check! (How do you say racket in German?) But everything else was wonderful - as you entered a small child gave you a chocolate, the seats are easy to find. The hall itself is dark wood, a little larger than Alice Tully and smaller than Avery Fisher. The program was well-written, although they did list the players. The evening consisted of a Mendelsohn overture, a symphony written by the 74-year old conductor of the orchestra, and in the second half, Beethoven’s 4th. Before the concert, different musicians were on stage, warming up. But they all left, and the orchestra entered together, men in wing collars, white tie and tails. Some of the men wore cummerbunds, but that seemed to be optional. Women wore black dresses, although a couple had black tops and black slacks. All stood when the conductor entered.

The Mendelsohn was good. The conductor’s piece was interesting - modern in its tonal quality but with melodies and interesting use of the orchestra, including a trio of brass that played from the house. There were no movements with breaks in between, about 30 minutes of continuous music.

During the interval I got chatting with the man next to me (Sin of pride - that I can casually throw in that I was chatting in German.) He was from Switzerland, here on holiday, from Basil. And then the Beethoven. First movement was ok, second I rather forget about and enjoyed being reminded. The third was brisk, and as good a reading of that movement as I perhaps have ever heard. The tempo might have been right at the edge of the ability of the string section, but it was not beyond them, and they were crisp and sure and very fast. It was a wonderful movement - and the fourth topped it. Great way to end the evening.

I had scoped out the facility during the interval and so I managed to get to the coat check well before the hordes and had an almost instant recovery of my hat and coat and strolled into the park for the walk home.

When I go to a performance that is especially good, whether theatre or opera or orchestral, it almost always produces in me feelings of loss, of loneliness, of missed opportunity. When I was small, the first Broadway show I was taken to see was Peter Pan, with Mary Martin and Cyril Ritchard. When we got back to my grandmother’s apartment I went off by myself and cried and cried, dreadfully intense sorrow, because that magical thing was going to be going on again that night and I wasn’t going to see it. I think it is a shadow of the same thing. To not be performing somehow breaks my heart a little each time. Shades of that on the walk home.

I had left myself one piece of pizza for an after the show snack. I had thought of stopping in the bar in the lobby for a drink but there were several young and drunk and loud young men already in residence and that was not exactly the mood I was looking for.

Friday, March 16 - Have to remember not to have meat with breakfast. Good sleep, gentle morning. After breakfast I was watching tv and there was a CNN ad featuring a woman in Nigeria who has started a line of women’s clothes. I know her. She is a relative of someone with whom I am a good friend. (Earlier in the week I was watching Boston Legal - in German - and there was an old friend of mine doing a one-shot appearance. Dick Riehle spent a year in Austria as a student, and he could have done his own dubbing. Slightly weird feeling.) Another beautiful morning - although yesterday when I checked the weather on the internet, next week in Salzburg seems to be nothing but rain and snow. Took with me the CD lessons today, so I could listen as I walked.

Not every day can be an adventure and today was a quiet day with lots of time for reading and listening to the symphony course and prayer. I visited places. In the square in front of the Goldenes Dachl, the golden roof, one of the primary tourist sites of Innsbruck, there are signs hanging over shops, sticking out into the square. All are “old style” and some have probably been there in some form or another for centuries. And in the middle of all these beautiful signs, in somewhat the same style, but clearly indentifiable, is the Golden Arches of McDonald’s. There is another Mickey D’s about a block away in Maria Theresien Strasse and I’m sure there are others around. Doing a land office business, by the way. Smoked a cigar while wrestling with a NY Times puzzle. Home for a long shower and a sit down.




In a large city like Innsbruck, the river that runs through town is clean enough so that not only can people catch fish in it, they can eat what they catch.









And how should I spend my last night in Innsbruck? How else, but by going to an Irish pub? (Actually, I found two Irish pubs, but this one is having three nights of Irish music with a group from Galway.) And who could imagine me spending a night with Irish music and not ending up somehow singing? Right you are - for my last night in Innsbruck, nothing like Irish music and an occasional solo from the visiting American.

Saturday, March 17 - Good sleep, slightly earlier than usual for breakfast. Packed, checked out and headed to the train station. The weather was still very good although slightly less crisp than earlier in the week. .Got my ticket - had a conversation with the ticket guy and I was right about my numbers, one has to be 65 to qualify for the VorteilsKarte (for men - for women it’s only 60). Went to a local internet cafĂ© and checked email and then went to the waiting room and did a lesson on the symphony series. Went up to the train and boarded - got a lovely cabinet with an older Austria man, and it looked like it was going to be a lovely trip. Then a group of football fans - young men with beer - boarded and took over the next two compartments - and seconds before the train was to leave, a British family crowded into the remaining four seats. I say crowded advisedly because these were very “American” Brits, very loud and expanding and each was physically large. I gave up any thoughts I had had of reading and simply plugged in and listened to two more lectures. It was a little strange - riding through the beautiful Austrian countryside, listening to lectures about Mendelsohn and Schumann and the French composers - while the English family chatted away at loud volume, and the football fans drank and sang and pounded on the walls pretty much the whole way from Innsbruck to Salzburg. Two hours.

Now one could get upset - I just enjoyed the bizarre quality of the whole thing, knowing it would only be for two hours and it would be over. I got the bus from the train station, got off at Mozarts Square and found the hotel as though I knew where I was going. Dead easy. I’m in room 13 - what else - and when I got to my room and turned on the tv, what came up but the St Patrick’s Day parade from Dublin. I went out to see what the neighborhood was like, and what is about three doors down from the hotel but the Dublin Pub - which is where I will be spending the rest of the night. I went to the cathedral - I am about a five minute walk away and found that there is a guest choir for the morning High Mass - a high school choir from the US! I’ll go but I won’t be happy. There is also a sung Mass at the Franciskaner Kirche at 9, so I might do a double, for the music. Might even pray twice, who knows.

The hotel has wi-fi, which did not work in my room the first time I tried, and did the second. The room has a built-in radio, with a tuning to a classical station, a comfortable chair and the smallest bathroom in the world. I’ve been in showers bigger than the bathroom. The room itself is larger than a train compartment but not by much, yet there is lots of storage and it feels very comfortable. Which is good because if the weather report is right, I will be using it more than I otherwise might. I even found a washermat for doing laundry!

Another item I had forgotten from my student days - toilet design. Here (although it was not true in the hotel in Innsbruck) there is a shelf in the toilet, onto which you deposit your offerings, and then when you flush, a great rush of water pushes everything away. We often discussed why this design was somehow thought to be good. Other than giving you the opportunity of examining your contribution more clearly (and there are some whose health concerns make this a very real item in their daily schedule, God help us) I cannot think of a single reason why this is a good idea. Especially if, depending on what you have been eating, the contribution is particularly aromatic. In the design where things fall into a standing pool of water, the aroma is immediately checked. Or at least lessened. This is good. When one is living in a very small room, this can be especially good. And the contrary is also true - when one is living in a very small room, contribution of his aromatic quality, shelf design on the toilet - well, one day when I came back, there was water on the windowsill, a sure sign that the maid who was making up the room felt it necessary to open the window. I could not disagree with her.

So I am unpacked and I’ve walked around a little, I sent the piece about Ralph up to the blog site, and checked email, and in a little bit I will wander off to the pub for St Patrick’s Day.

Not much of a wander - the pub was fairly quiet when I came in, which meant I got to talk to people. The guy who owns the place is from Dublin, and we had a long chat. In addition to several pints of Guiness, I had their lamb stew - quite good. Interesting people - one of the waitresses is from Chicago, but her mother is from Austria and she is at the university. A couple from Hungary - I now can say slainte in Hungarian. Celebrated the saint’s day and at a propitious moment went back to the hotel. Not an inauspicious beginning for my first night in Salzburg, and looking at the things on offer, I don’t think I will be able to do everything I want even if I go out every night - and part of me doesn’t even want to go out every night. We’ll see how the weather cooperates.



I wasn't kidding - the flags on the left are right over the door to my hotel, and just beyond that down the street, you can make out green balloons next to the arch - that's the entrance to the Irish pub. Happy St. Patrick's Day.





Sunday, March 18 - Another good night’s sleep. For those who have been in this part of the world, you know about marshmallows. But just in case - I am not referring to the sweet soft candy but the large, feather-filled comforter that takes the place of upper sheet and blanket and pretty much anything else. There is a lower sheet on the mattress, and a pillow - and everything else is marshmallow. They are, for the uninitiated, WONDERFUL! Now this hotel, which is very nice in many things, has gone in for a commercial, non really made of feathers marshmallow - sort of a faux marshmallow, if you will. Comfortable and warm and probably easy to take care of. But not really the same thing.

The hotel is a fascinating place in itself. In 700 AD when Duke Theo built the fortress, he realized that there was some land left over at the bottom, which he gave to Saint Rupert who built the monastery of St Peter’s and St. Mary’s Convent. Some of that ground was later split and a quay (later spelled kai) was built to help prevent floods. (The hotel today is on Kaigasse - Kai street). The building where I am staying was built in 1305 and was called “the building next to the hospital.” The hotel can trace the change of ownership from then until the present, with the current family that owns the place having bought it in 1904. After the world there were some renovations and an addition was made to the rear. The son and daughter have been to hotel school and are now helping to run the place, the 5th generation. It’s a real rabbit warren of rooms, but it’s fun knowing the whole history.

Breakfast here is slightly more formal than my little place in Innsbruck - there is a menu, from which you order, and there is a little PS menu with other things you may order which are not included in the breakfast that comes with the room. The white rolls can simply be eaten alone, and the dark breads... yum yum. This morning were was a rye roll that was amazing and another dark bread likewise to die for. I love the sour cherry jelly that is pretty much anywhere you go. Even a small order brings out more food than one can realistically deal with, the wait persons all speak several languages and are delighted to do whatever you need. Lots of languages being spoken by the guests as well. Back to the room and got ready to go out. Despite the weather forecast, the sky was blue and the air crisp and I was off to church. I did not make it to the Franciscan church for the first Mass but I was in plenty of time for the cathedral. Service. I brought my breviary so I could get through part of it in church, and I wore my heavy overcoat - cathedrals are COLD! I would have worn a hat if I thought I could have gotten away with it.

When I was a student here, the church was just in the process of changing the Mass, and so the High Mass on Sunday morning was usually a concert Mass - Schubert or Mozart or Haydn - with orchestra and full chorus, and the priests were in the old vestments, lots of incense - and if you sat near the front, you could easily think you were back in the early part of the 19th century.

Some things have definitely changed. The Mass had a choir of six - now these were six very good, highly trained singers, but six. The orchestra was the organ. And there was guest choir from the US. There is a contemporary altar facing the people, but the three celebrants - celebrant, assistant priest and deacon - all wore the old fiddle back vestments. Lots of incense - at the beginning of the Eucharistic prayer, there was a great beam of light coming from one of the side windows just behind the altar - and the incense was spewing great clouds of smoke, so it was highly visible in that beam of light - very dramatic.

The director of the choir - yes, the six singers had a director - rehearsed the congregation for one song that we would sing parts of - and at one point, when I was singing, all six singers looked down directly at me - I think my voice carried. The homilist - not one of the three priests already mentioned but a ringer, sitting on the sideline - was terrific. He built his homily on the song we were helping the choir sing, and tied it in to the homily, to the Mass (today was Laetare Sunday) and shot it home at the end with direct personal application. Bravo! (I wonder if he was a Jesuit...) All in German, of course. Odd moment - I realized I had not brought my little German dictionary with me, but I hadn’t really been using it much.

After Mass I wandered outside, visited a little market next to the Cathedral, and since the weather was so gorgeous, decided to keep wandering, because according to all the meteorological reports, it can’t last.

One of the things I had seen on a listing of cultural events was Der Winterreise, which I assume to be the Schubert song cycle. But there was no time listed, so I walked to where the performance was to take place. Which was a monastery and museum, at the top of a large hill. With a tram car to the top. The guy selling the tickets knew nothing about the cultural event - rather had the feeling he didn’t think too much about cultural events - so I got a ticket and went to the top. No one there knew anything either, but I did walk about the top of the hills, took a few pictures and even stopped at a bench overlooking the other side of the valley and spent some time with the breviary. Atone point I was eavesdropping on a couple of guys, one analyzing in detail one of the Winnie the Pooh stories as a paradigm of anti-prejudice and anti-Nazi literature. When they started to move onto the Harry Potter stories as a parable about national identity, I moved on.

A note about prayer - which I don’t always talk about, but which has been a surprising part of this trip. Usually I carve a stretch of time out of the day which is given to prayer. (In addition to the Mass, and reading the breviary.) On this trip, there has been a spirit of reflection, and in many places, a sense of God. I visited a lot of churches in Innsbruck, and made visits to many I had previously visited. (Not simply a linguistic hoo-ha - to visit a church is to drop in and look it over. To make a visit is to drop in and actually pray. See, another bit of Catholic trivia for you to tuck away for future conversational quiet moments.) That sense of the presence of God has been very much part of everything that has gone on.

Things seen or thought about while wandering - street musicians are out today, because of the good weather. Next to the cathedral, a Mexican or Indean (someone from the Indes?) Playing a very good harp. A middle eastern chap with a very middle eastern stringed instrument, rather like a violin in structure but not at all in sound. Several guitar players who also sang, and who should only be guitar players. Lots of children, and as in Innsbruck, lots of dogs walking happily with their owners without benefit of leash.

It’s expensive. I keep looking at Austrian clothing and a jacket is E299, pants (well, lederhosen) even more. I broke my shoes - the grey shoes I wear all the time for walking and going through airports, one of the soles has literally broken. I am still wearing it but at some point a replacement is going to have to be found. I think I will keep them through Gaming, and abandon them - that will give me extra space in the suitcase for the trip back to London. Maybe someone would like to buy a poor priest a new pair of shoes. I had a wurst and a roll from a street stand, and it was $2.60, which is about $3.50.

Later in the evening, I picked myself up, dusted myself off, put on a necktie and a jacket, my overcoat and went out into the night to explore Salzburg. Not much happening on Sunday, but I went to St Peter’s Kellar, a restaurant where Rotary meets on Monday nights (I won’t be able to make that meeting because of the Mass at the Franciscan Church) and bought myself a ticket for the Mozart’s Dinner. This is one of those tourist things that is rather fun - big beautiful room, with wall decorations dating back to the 1700's and a really good 1903 restoration, musicians in period costumes, and a menu for dinner taken from Mozart’s time. There are tables of eight and ten, and the matresse d’ didn’t know where to put me - I speak German, and English and French, and I know a single at an event like this is always awkward, so I told her to put me wherever would be best for them. (All this in beautiful German, of course.) I ended up at an English table - a man and his wife from Canada, although British by birth, and an Irishman and his wife, and two women who were with the same tour as the Irish couple. The British guy was interesting, and delighted to talk about his travels and his work in retirement, which is travel and writing books (unpublished) about history and his family. Could have been dreadful and it turned out to be very interesting. His father was prisoner in a camp in Poland during the war, and he has a blog site with his father’s story and some photos.

The meal was very good, the setting was gorgeous and the instrumentalists were also first-rate. OK, I’m a singer, I am tough on singers - there was a bass-baritone with a pitch problem and a bad sense of theatre, and a mezzo who tried to sing an alto (and did quite well) and less successfully a higher soprano. She has some voice problems - I wonder if she was sick - but a very outgoing personality and worked very hard at being bright and cheerful and connecting with the audience. Most people probably thought the whole thing was terrific, so I (uncharacteristically) kept my critical mouth shut. When I went out to talk home, that bad weather that had been predicted had finally arrived in the form of rain, so by the time I got home I was if not soaked certainly extraordinarily damp in the extremities.

Details? You want details? OK. The first musical section was from Don Giovanni, and opened with the Salzburger divertimento in F, KV 138, allegro. Then “Notte Giorno” (Leporello), “Madamina, il catalogo” (Leporello, first part only), “Batti, batti o bel Masetto” (Zerlina), “Deh vieni alla finestra (Don Giovanni, first part only) and the duet between the Don oand Zerlina, “La ci darem la mano.” You actually would find much of this familiar, even if the titles don’t grab you.

Then we had a Lemon cream soup with cinnamon - to die for. Truly wonderful. And bread. Always this wonderful bread. (I wonder how you let out Lederhosen when you have had too much bread.)

Then more music, this time focusing on Le Nozze di Gifaro, KV 492 - the Susanna/Figaro duet “Cinquie, dieci, venti...”, then “Non so piu cosa son (Cherubino), “Non piu andrai” (Figaro, “Deh vieni non tardar” (Susanna), an interlude with the Salzburger Divertimento in D, KV 136, allegro and finally “Crudel! Perche finora” (the Susanna and Conte duet).

Those who know the music have by now figured out that we only had two singers, a mezzo qua alto and a bass qua baritone. Oh? I told you that above. Never mind.

Dinner was a roasted capon breast (very tender and juicy) with polenta and truffle-sage cream sauce (Yup, just about as good as it sounds) and vegetables from Father Prior’s garden. (OK, THAT is a little cutesy - vegetables are pretty much vegetables, no matter what you call them, and for all the atmosphere, they were vegetables.)

The final musical selection was from Zauberflote, but we opened with the first movement of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. Then “Bei Mannern welche Liebe fuhlen” (Papageno/Pamina duet), “Ein Madchen oder Weibchen (Papageno), “Klinget Glockchen klinget” (Papageno, 1st part) and the famous Papageno/Papagena duet. They did one encoure - which I did not recognize, a duet.

And for dessert, we had a semi-frozen honey parfait with a two kinds of sauce.

Just an indication of prices - in addition to the dinner, if you wanted you could get a Coke for E2.90, a mineral water for E2.75, Beer for E3.10 (Multiply each of these numbers by around 1.32 to get the dollar value), a sherry E4.50, a bottle of wine ranging from E24 to E39.




Festung Hohensalzburg - the fort overlooking the city where I went for dinner and a concert on one snowy night. (Read on - it's coming up.)





Monday, March 19 - St Joseph’s Day. I slept until a little after 8, and when I opened the blind to check the weather, snow. Heavy flakes falling in a very determined manner. When I went out later in the morning, the mountains were lightly dusted and the roofs had enough snow to be pretty. The hotel has a great stack of umbrellas by the front door - I wish they had shoes. Remember I said I had broken my shoes? Well, the rain on the ground soaks up through the crack in the shoe, and my right foot was cold and squishy in a very short period of time.

I went out and bought a ticket for Carmen for Wednesday, a ticket for the fortress concert on Tuesday, and did some shopping for presents (although no buying). One beautiful little park, the trees had all bloomed, and there were lovely pink buds on a whole row of trees - and of course, everything was covered with wet snow. I ran into the guy from the dinner last night and his wife - they are heading off to Vienna this afternoon and then a train to Paris from there. I had a couple of ideas for presents and did not find what I was looking for, and resisted the temptation to buy just to get it done. I still have two days and I will use them carefully. So I went back to the hotel, took my laptop to the lobby where the signal is strong and constant, checked email and tried to find a plug adaptor - and when I asked at the desk, they had exactly what I needed. I also bought a Monday Herald Tribune, just for the sake of doing the puzzle. (It is really quite expensive.) Did some writing and some reading and some praying in the room for the afternoon - the snow had turned to rain, and then the rain stopped. And came back. And stopped.

I went out a little before six, so I could get to the chapel and do some praying before the evening Mass. Feast of St Joseph. So the Franciscan Church was doing a special Mozart Organ Mass for the feast. I read through the breviary hours, and then everyone was standing up and a voice was coming over the loudspeaker, and we were doing the stations of the cross. OK, when in Rome, so like the Germans do. So I did the stations of the cross, and then the Mass started. Choir, organ (after all, it was one of Mozart’s organ Masses) and horns and kettle drums - nicely done. Once again, old style vestments (and I saw part of a celebration on television that leads me to belief this is the style here.) The priest was not outstanding - not bad, but he had an ending in his homily and didn’t realize and went on for another full ten minutes after he should have started. Unfortunately he did not get better with time.

And cold? I want to tell you about old churches. They hold onto cold something fierce. Even at the end of the Mass, with a church filled with people, I could still see my breath in the air. One would think that the crush of human bodies and certain amount of breathing would have warmed things up. Nope. Or at least if it got warmer, it was still cold enough to see your breath. And it seems that here the tradition is NOT to have communion under both species, so there is not even the hope of a little sip of wine along the way.

When the Mass was over, I headed to the pub for a whiskey (to warm my innards) and a beer and a hamburger. I won’t say the place was quiet, but I have been in morgues that were livelier. True, true. I had my beer, ate my burger, and went home. Not your typical Irish place. My friend from Dublin was not around and the guy who was running the bar was more interested in his paper and the soccer match on television than conversation.

Tuesday, March 20 - Good sleep, and when I awoke I looked out the window to see what the weather was doing and guess what? Snow!!! Heavy, wet snow. Not as pretty falling as yesterday’s effort, but when it hits it sticks and was rapidly transforming the landscape into Christmas card visions. I ate lightly at breakfast - I usually don’t eat breakfast and when there are other meals in my future, stocking up at breakfast doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense. I did some email and internet stuff, and headed out into the wet and the cold. I still have that shoe problem, so I wrapped my foot in a plastic bag - and that worked pretty well. My feet were cold when I finished my wander, but I was mostly dry.

I walked and walked and walked. I went all the way to the railroad station and bought my ticket to Gaming. I rode the bus back and rode several stops beyond where I would usually go off, just so I could walk back. Unfortunately, without my noticing it, the bus had gone around the mountain, and so when I set out walking, I was heading in a direction that did not go where I wanted to go. Rather one of those, “You can’t get there from here” moments. It was a lovely walk - heavy wet snow falling, and I was dressed warmly enough, so aside from a slight nagging worry that I might get myself into a situation where there wouldn’t even be a bus, I had rather a nice time. I quickly found myself walking through more country than city - at one point there was a road crossing warning, and the image was a frog. Yup, a frog crossing sign. (And me, once again, without my camera in my pocket.)

Eventually I found myself at a bus stop and almost didn’t care where it was going, as long as it went through the mountain. It did and got me back to a place where I actually knew where I was. I bailed, and went shopping again, and ended up buying several small things for people. At that point I was cold and wet and went back to the hotel, where I spent the rest of the afternoon, some email and internet exploring and some writing. And along the way a shower, just to raise the body temp.

Around 5 I dressed, put on my suit and clean underwear (hey these little moments are important) and off for the evening. I walked over to the train that goes up to the fortress and up I went. (For the uninitiated, Salzburg means city of salt, and above the city sits a large fortress. Called the Festung, it is open for tourists and concerts and dinners and stuff like that.) Grey sky, snow falling - the view was limited but pretty, and this time I DID have my camera and did take some pictures. I had gone early to see something of the fortress before dinner, and I discovered that up it was snowing more heavily, blowing more strongly and COLD. (Gee, John, you sound surprised that it snows more on TOP of a mountain than in the valley. Sheesh.) So I explored for about three minutes and retreated into the dining room. Unlike the Mozart dinner, no one worries about seating, and so I had a table to myself. (Just in case, I had a book in my pocket.) I was still cold, so I started with a Mozarts Kaffee, which is an Irish coffee with a different kind of whiskey. Just what I needed. A nice Austrian wine, and the first course was a meat pate in an aspic with a vinegar salad. Potato soup was next, and was simply delicious. I chose a grilled pike, which turned out to be beautifully cooked - the fish equivalent of a medium rare, so the meat was not just flavorful but still juicy and tender - and accompanying vegetables, which were pretty much just vegetables. Dessert was called Mozart Variations, and consisted of a slice of chocolate ice cream with nuts, resting on a bed of raspberry puree, a baked pastry with a kiwi inside (and it was hot!) And a couple of fresh strawberries. One whole side of the very large plate was covered in powdered sugar, in which a musical clef had been created. All very elegant.

During dinner, of course, the city of Salzburg below us gradually grew dark, and lights starting shining through the mist. At one point the clouds were so thick one could see nothing - at other times, the lights of cars and the lights of the city came through. It was really very pretty and I could only imagine what it must be like on a clear summer evening.



From the Festung, looking down over Salzburg. There was a gap in the snow so I could take a quick picture but it quickly resumed and I went inside. Snow is cold.








The people in my part of the dining room were interesting. One couple I had talked with earlier were from France, there was an English student who was by himself (but I did not learn he was English until after dinner) and behind me in a corner was a very elegant Austrian and his wife. I assume she was his wife. She had a red jacket over a black skirt with a black hat and a diamond (I assume faux diamond) belt and huge buckle. Somehow it worked. She had one of those faces that could have 30, could have been 50, hard to tell. But I don’t think she was his daughter.

After dinner, I strolled through the snow - heavy, wet and slippery snow - through the castle to where the concert was to be held. Had a nice chat with one of the workmen, very thick Salzburg accent and I managed to hold my own. The concert was in one of the large rooms - candleabra in the ceiling, weapons on the walls, chairs arranged on three sides around the stage area. Four chairs on the stage - string quartet. Each instrumentalist must be good, no place to hide.

The program was interesting - A Schubert piece, then a horn piece followed by an Alpen horn piece by Leopold Mozart, complete with Alpen horn, the twenty foot long horn used in - well, the Alps - for calling between mountain villages. And of course, a night in Salzburg would not be complete with Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. When in doubt, the Chamber of Commerce seems to have decreed, play Eine Kleine. The trip back down the mountain was dangerous and gorgeous and a lovely way to end the evening.





The outdoor cafe at the Festung -we continued to have snow for the next several days. And more fell outside the city than in Salzburg itself.






Wednesday, March 21 - the first full day of spring, and when I opened the window, there is that snow again. When these guys say snow, they’re not just kidding around. I had had problems with the internet connection last night, and again this morning - nothing. For reasons known only to God and perhaps Bill Gates, the system can find the wireless connection and doesn’t connect to it. I have opened every window and tried every combination I can think of to no effect. I used the computer in the lobby to check email but it is a nuisance suddenly to be deprived of the connection.

Morning television here (and in Innsbruck) is interesting - several of the channels have remote tv shots of different skiing and city scenes, with temperatures and forecasts. Austrian music is played underneath, and if you want something soothing as you putter around, that is certainly it. Of course, the last several days, many of the screen shots have been just grey, since the clouds and snow have rather taken away the option of actual scenery. Light breakfast - in spite of lots and lots (and LOTS) of walking, I seem to be gaining weight. Not this might be caused by eating breakfast every morning - might be my body reacting to all of this cold by storing up fat. But it is NOT how I planned that dimension of the trip to go.

Out in the morning, with my foot again wrapped in a plastic bag, to re-create a moment of my youth, the salt mines in Hallein. I went with friends and there is somewhere in the archive a picture of several of us after the tour, it is the first picture of me with a beard. I thought it would be fun to do the tour again (this is where you put on a canvas suit with great leather patches and slide down wooden rails in between the different levels of the mine.) I had a vision of the two photos side by side, 1965 and 2007. Bus to the train, bought a ticket and caught a train by about 30 seconds.

And that was the last bit of luck I had all day long. I got to Hallein - the trip was gorgeous, heavy wet snow coming down with Christmas card strength, and the trees and mountains are stunning. I, who take a book with me to the bathroom, didn’t even read, I was so entranced by the scenery. By the amount I see on tables and benches, we’re talking an accumulation of up to six inches. When I got to Hallein, I looked around and saw a sign - Saltzwerk, with little crossed tools - and off I went. Asked a couple of people on the way and the kept pointing me in the same direction as the signs, so I felt fairly confident. Nice walk, really heavy snow but I had an umbrella and a plastic bag on my foot and life was good. After a while I started to feel a little less confident - and then I came to a sign which confidently directed me to a highway, with the note that Bad Durnerg was 4 km away, and it seemed that the saltzwerks sign was pointing the same way.

Yup - first I had to find someone to ask, but once I went back (I HATE going back) and found people, they were fairly unanimous in telling me that the salt mines where you take the tour are in fact in Bad Durnberg, and I can take a bus. Which, I discovered, runs once every hour. And - you guessed it - I had just missed it. I did pay a visit to the Silent Night church - I skipped the Silent Night Museum - and I did walk around Hallein a little. But when I looked at the time and schedule and cost - well, I ended up getting back on a train and heading back to Salzburg. Another slice of my youth not to be revisited. And as I returned, the snow stopped, the sun came out, bits of blue sky appeared - is this a sign from God or what? And saying what?

When I got back to Salzburg, I wanted to stop in a little antique shop I had seen a day or two ago, which had a reliquary with what seemed to be a relic of St Philip Neri in the window. St Philip was a great friend of Ignatius, and while I am quite sure I couldn’t afford the thing, I was interested to see what the cost might be. I could NOT find the store. I was fairly sure I knew where it was - and it had disappeared. The little shop that wasn’t there. Brigadoon. I walked up and over and back and forth - nope. Where I thought the antique shop should have been was a clothing store I swear I had never seen before. At that point (with a quick visit to St Peter’s Church since I happened to be there and I have got to find out why they have an altar to St Aloysius there) I went back to the hotel.

My luck absolutely holding, I had no luck at all trying to figure out what is happening with my computer. I switched from the wireless access program I had been using to the Microsoft Access program, and it too found the hotel network and it too could not connect. No reason given - and again, no matter what configuration combination I tried, nothing happened. So I used the lobby hotel to send an email or two, and then went back upstairs to warm up my feet and get ready for the evening. In the middle of Mozart’s city, with Mozart candy and Mozart cookies and Mozart t-shirts everywhere you turn, in a theatre named “Mozart’s House” - I am going to see a performance this evening of Carmen, sung in French. Went out again in the afternoon - still could not find the shop with the relic in the window, enjoyed the scenery - the blue sky and crisp weather, a last look at the festung and the Dom and other parts of the city - that “this is probably the last time I will see this in this lifetime” moment. (I had a lot of those on this trip - not that I am expecting to die soon, but there was a sense that I will not see these place - and in some cases see these people - again.) I bought a couple of small presents for the children of the Mortensens - don’t know what to bring them, since they are packing to leave in a couple of months, and it is Lent, so even the usual chocolate and liquor option doesn’t seem quite right. I’ll give them an IOU for a house-warming gift at the other end. Tried a full reboot on the computer - didn’t change a thing.

Went out to the opera, and it was great fun. I had never been in the House for Mozart - it was only opened in 2006 - and it shares part of the structure of the Festival Hall. Beautifully built, well designed, and well run. The coat check is very efficient, and after checking the outer garments, I wandered into a huge hall, wood -paneled, old, with a painting on the ceiling. And a cat at the other end. Yes, a live cat, sort of sitting watching the people eat. Because in this hall is a very large bar with food and drink. I wandered farther and found the rest rooms, several other small bars, and a wonderful view out onto the plaza in front of the Festival House. I bought a program - something to read on the train tomorrow - and wandered the house. Very modern, no central aisles, comfortable seats, good acoustics.

Now for the opera. Carmen. Bizet and Halevy and someone else I can never remember. I missed the first part of the stage setting because I was so fascinated with the one woman playing double bass (along with three men). I was in the first balcony section - GREAT seat - and so could see into the orchestra pit. This lady really gets into her music, and in the strong opening section of the overture, she was sawing and swaying and generally dancing with the instrument. Throughout the evening, she had more fun than any three people. She is either really into her music or perhaps had a drink before the show. Whatever, it was fun to watch.

And the set was fun to watch. There was a curved wall that ran the total width of the stage, and there was a space on top for people, which is where the chorus - in top hat and tails and long evening dresses - spent most of the evening. Spectators at the bull fight, spectators for much of the action. And when the chorus was not needed, a wall came down from above, which matched the wall below, and turned the whole back of the stage into a curved wall.

In the center of the stage, taking up about 90% of the floor space, was a huge circle, angle so that when it faced forward it had about a 30% slant - and it could revolve. At the back side - the tallest - there was a door, and a ladder, and when the high end was upstage, there apparently was a p ramp so people could enter directly onto that level. Very clever, very stark but it worked fairly well.

There was no other scenery. In her first act Carmen was in a red dress - pretty much everyone else was in black and white, or darker earth colors. Escamillo entered in a white suit (rather like a Colombian drug lord) with a black cape with a bright red satin lining. That was pretty much it - a production that focused on the singing and the acting and the basic plot of the story.

As we started, someone came out on stage and greeted us, and explained that the woman who was singing Carmen had been sick all week. She would sing that night, but she wanted to apologize because her voice was still not all it should be. Usually that is a bad idea - in this case, the lady was quite good, and if this is her level of performance when she is not 100%, I hope some day to hear her at full voice. She had a couple of shaky moment in the middle of the first act - but her first aria, the famous Habanera - sung sitting down - was dynamite.

The Micaela was very good, and a great favorite with the audience. Her arias got applause - many others didn’t - and she received far and away the loudest acclamation at the curtain calls. Then there were the men. The Escamillo was competent - the Don Jose was in over his head, and was not comfortable with the high notes. He missed the high b flat (It’s only a bflat) at the end of La Fleur and it was painful - he worked hard at it but never got it up on pitch. The men’s voices were tight, pinched, constrained - they never rang free. I know German voices can, but these didn’t. The evening definitely belonged to the women. Maybe because of where I was sitting but I did not thing the voices were carrying very well. The Carmen and the Micaela had no problems - but the men were weaker, and even the chorus got drowned out on a regular basis. Unfortunately the children’s chorus could be heard loud and clear. I would love to ask some composers why they feel it necessary to put in a children’s chorus. It would be the first thing I would cut in an opera production if I could. Pretty much true for any opera. Well, maybe not Hansel and Gretel.

Some nice bits - a rose was thrown onto the stage before Carmen entered, and it landed on the stem and dug into the stage. When she threw it to Don Jose -same thing. Nice image. In the third act when Carmen foresees death in the cards, there was a red ring along the back of the stage.

I was sitting in my seat, watching people come in, and there was excitement, anticipation, they were really glad to be there, happy. Unfortunately that is NOT the response in too many churches in too many places. We have the greatest message in the world, and we can’t give it away, and people are willing to pay $100 a seat for musicals and opera - because what happens there influences them, it touches them and moves them, and church doesn’t. Theatre (in general) has respect for the audience, and church doesn’t. I’ve made this speech before, and I have a nice long version all written out - and it is still valid.

I am equally fascinated by the intermission. After 95 minutes of sitting down, everyone dashes to the great hall to fight their way through a crowd, wait in a line, so they can get something to eat or drink. Now most of these people were eating and drinking less than two hours before, but you would think they were gonna die if they didn’t get their highly overpriced sandwich or their equally overpriced glass of wine or lukewarm beer. Starving these folks ain’t. And having finally achieved the food and drink, what is the ultimate achievement? Why, to find a place to sit, of course, to rest up from all that other sitting. I confess - I don’t get it, I just don’t get it.

There was no announcement to turn off phones, so I guess everyone is pretty considerate. Or well-trained. Because there are certainly a bunch of them, before and during the intermission.

I did fairly well getting my coat - on the way out, through the great hall, the cat was at the far end, down on the ground level now, sitting and watching these silly humans dashing by. When I first saw him I thought, “The opera cat.” There is a children’s story in there somewhere, if it has not already been written.

All in all it was a good evening. But I did not anticipate it well enough in my own circumstance, and after it was over, again, I was filled with - sadness. Nostalgia for things I never had. I had thought about going to the St Peter’s Kellar and having a Salzburger Nockerl - it takes 25 minutes, but I could have a drink and a Vorspeise. I haven’t had one in 42 years and it was one of the things I had told myself I really wanted to re-experience. I would really have liked one. But I was simply not in the mood - whether because it was my last night in Salzburg, or the opera, or the usual after a performance sadness - or maybe just a low sugar level since I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. But I was lonely and slightly sad and not in the mood to spend the money or spend the time or eat alone - so I went home. A number of the orchestra musicians passed me on the way, on bicycles with their instruments strapped to their backs. Not unusual with a violin, but definitely worth watching for the cello players.

At the hotel, there was someone on the computer in the lobby and when I went down later to check he had turned it off and it has a different password than the wireless access. On the Salzburg leg of my trip, I didn’t get to the salt mines, I never had a Nockerl and I never got out to see Schloss Klessheim where I used to live. So much for oft-vaunted Sheehan efficiency.

And yet - it was a good visit. I had good times and did good things, and I can’t do everything a second time. The last full day was not the best, but walking home, even with the deep melancholy, I looked up and there was the Festung illuminated above me, and that’s not a bad vision with which to end the day. Tomorrow will be breakfast and packing and off to the train station. Four changes to get to Gaming - the last leg a walk from the train station to the bus and a bus for the last bit. I’m thinking of splurging for a cab to the station, just to save the hassle of the walk to the bus.

And here I am going to close this chapter - not for any logical reason except that apparently this blog site will only handle a combination of text and photos of a certain length - but there is no way of knowing that, until you look and discover that a whole lot of text has disappeared off the end of the blog. And the last 25 minutes you have spent has been a waste of time. (Grumble. Sigh.)

So - here we are in Salzburg, and in the next episode we will go to Gaming.