Finding roots

I returned from Austria this afternoon. It's nice to be back home, although I probably won't be here for very long. The weather has been the worst ever since I left, either extremely cold, or rainy, or both. I am just returning from an evening walk to get some exercise after the many hours on the train. There were flurries, and understandably, the larches still haven't greened up. Fortunately I had been smart enough to pack a wool hat for my trip - because I wore it a lot!

I left last Tuesday, right after lunch to go to Landeck, in the Tirol, where Roswitha, my cousin's wife, picked me up. It's exactly 100 km from Zuoz to Landeck. It took me 3 1/2 hours. The first hour was with the little red train, to the end of the line - no big deal, except that the bathroom was closed. I had planned on using it since the rest of the journey was going to be by bus, and I knew those buses don't have bathrooms. In case you are not familiar with the regional geography: the river Inn, which flows by my house, leads all the way to Landeck, meaning that you can get from here to there following the valley. This is how it happened on previous trips. This time, though, at the Austrian border, the bus, with me as the only passenger, climbed up the mountain on the south side of the valley, at least 10 switchbacks, and way up there, joined with the road of the Reschenpass, which leads from Landeck to Italy. At the crossroads is a village, Nauders. I think in the winter it's a ski area, but on that day it felt as abandoned as Zuoz. Up here I had to switch buses, as it's the turn around point of the Swiss bus. The driver was kind enough to show me the bus stop for the Austrian bus. I had a 35 minute wait. The stop is on the outskirts of the town, between fields. No bench, no roof, no toilet, no restaurant, nothing but a sign by the side of the road. And a cold wind, and it started to rain. Gradually I pulled all my successive layers out of my suitcase. Finally the bus arrived. Except for two kids, about 3-4 years old, I again was the only passenger. They each had a huge lollipop and sugar all over their faces. The bus rolled into town itself, stopped, and the driver and the kids got off - to return all cleaned up. Now we could start our trip down to the valley in earnest. The same amount of switchbacks, and the kids doing acrobatics all over the bus, walking from the back to the front on the backs of the seats, half hanging from the ceiling. The dad (the driver) thought it was a lot of fun, enjoying the show from the rear view mirror.

Meanwhile I was petrified, scared that a kid was going to lose his balance in one of the switchbacks, or that the proud Dad was going to drive the bus off the edge because he was watching the kids instead of the road. All of a sudden we came to a stop in the middle of nowhere: road construction. A backhoe was in the middle of the road, and no worker in sight - we were going to be here for a while. Pretty quickly a line of semis formed behind us. And all those men got off their vehicles, including the young twins, to relieve themselves at the side of the road! To entertain themselves during the long wait the twins took turns at the steering wheel of the bus, playing with various switches, opening and closing the bus door, with both me and their Dad on the outside. The Dad reassured me that they were not strong enough to release the emergency break... Fortunately, once we got going, the trip was smooth to the end. I suspect that the twins fell asleep because it was very quiet. Since nobody got on, we made up for lost time and I arrived just about on schedule.

Roswitha drove me to Strengen, a small town some 15 minutes from Landeck, on the road of the Arlberg pass. This is where my paternal grand-father came from. Roswitha, her husband Guenther, their son Wolfgang, his wife Kitty and daughter Hanne, all live in the old family house. My own father took me there for the first time in the late 50s. We returned periodically, about every 10 years. I was welcomed back with the warmth and kindness so typical of our Austrian relatives. Each times it feels so right, so good. We get reacquainted, catch up, share more good times. As a gift I brought a book from my father's library and they appreciated very much to have a something tangible to remember him by. Many ghosts and memories crowd the house. All those from my father's generation have died, but the old family house, the town, the torrent, the covered bridge, the chapel in the woods, all remain mostly unchanged.

On Thursday I travel further east, to Salzburg. My paternal grand-mother is from Hallein, a small town to the south of Salzburg. There I was welcomed, again with much joy and warmth, by cousin Ingrid and her son Wolfgang. They were kind enough to organize a dinner with son-in-law Gusti and his partner Suzie. Salzburg is one of my favorite cities. I have been there several times, starting in 1964 with the whole family. Most of my visits were in the summer when the city is invaded by crowds of tourists and it was a pleasure to experience it during a less popular time - although there still were a good number of folks, as the marathon took place on Sunday and all the athletes were about town. Ingrid took me to the Celtic museum in Hallein, famous since before the Romans for its salt mine. My parents honeymooned in Hallein, and we visited the pastry shop where they used to hang out. Many ghosts and memories in Salzburg/Hallein as well. In 1972 I spent Easter there with my sister. Our uncle Pepi introduced us to two young men and we spent a night dancing to Sargent Pepper's Lonely Heart Club Band album. The men still remember us, one of them now is Ingrid's doctor, and he sent his regards. Unfortunately he was out of town for the long weekend! Despite the excitement of being back in Salzburg, the most important aspect of the visit was to spend quality time with Ingrid and her son, to catch up, to rediscover each other - and we did! Last night, as I was packing, she gave me one of her authentic Austrian hats - something I will treasure forever!

So today was the return journey. I opted to not repeat the adventures of Tuesday and took the Transalpin train into Switzerland, a detour as far as miles go, but definitely more pleasant and no longer than the trek by bus via the mountain passes. Despite all my travels in various parts of the world, the Transalpin will always be more exciting than any airplane. Today was especially delightful, with very few people on the train, which made for a very quiet day. Nobody spoke beyond a few words of politeness, the young man across the aisle was working on sheet music. An hour or so after leaving Salzburg we were again following the Inn, which I can now hear under my window.