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Salzburg
Salzburg, unlike
Vienna, is wide open. And it is very
white. It was deliberately kept white
and not colored with the Vienna pastel and the Czech orange. It reminds me of
Gondor from the Lord of the Ring.
The focal point
of the city is a white castle, a fortress that spans from one side of the
city to the other. You can imagine
that in the old days, the archbiship atop the fortress could see his enemy
approaching from miles and miles away.
But the castle is
just hauntingly white. Especially at
night.
White like a
pale face.
It is easy to
see the religious character of the city.
The place is
surrounded by churches.
Below the
castle, there is the St. Peter's Church, Franciscan Church, the Collegiate
Church. And of course there is the
center piece at the Residenplatz, the grand Dom Cathedral. Across the bank, there is the oldest St.
Sebastian Church (Mozart's wife was buried in its mausoleum; I stayed two
nights in the hostel part of this church, which also hosts music
students). Next to the Mirabell
garden is St. Michael (I think).
The six churches
to the four directions of the white castle mark the boundary of the city.
When the clock
hits the hour, the bells of these six churches would ring together. They ring and ring, answering one another,
feeding on the answer of one another, supplementing the sound of one another,
taking turns inserting its note in the symphony (some thinks cacophony) of
bells.
The result is
that the whole of Salzburg shakes at the hour.
My analogy of
the bells in Salzburg is the barking of dogs. At first one barks, then eventually every dog barks and soon
the city was filled with the howling of dogs.
Oh but the bells
in Salzburg! (I wish I can still hear
it now that I am back in Chicago)
The whole town
shakes with the bells.
In fact, my room
is next to the bell tower of St. Sebastian church. It used to the monastary / abbey associated with the church.
My roommate
during my stay at St. Sebastian is from Northern Germany.
When I walked
into the room the first day, she was out.
Her things were efficiently placed in her section of the room. Three kleenex tidily stacked on the window
pane; her large red backpacker's backpag lied casually on the floor next to
her bed. Her electronics occupying
every socket in the room. On the
center table of the cramped room lied a single bag of opened Mozart
chocolate, a couple of which had rolled outside of the bag onto the
table.
The first time
we met was at night after I came back from a concert at the white
castle. She handed me a Mozart
chocolate.
The next morning
when I woke up, she was already out.
But on my Salzburg map on the center table, was another Mozart
chocolate ball.
She has a low
voice, a tatoo of a lizard on her left wrist, and short cropped bleached
blond hair, which sticks out under her beanie. And her hands are always in the pockets of her jeans, which
accentuated her long legs.
She is pale, but
has a fresh sun-burned blush on her face.
Whenever she is
in the room, she'd climb up onto the top of the bunk bed and read.
The last day, it
turned out that we both went to Hellbrunn, 6 km South of the Old Town
Salzburg. The difference is that she
walked there and back, and obtained further sun burn on her already
sun-burned face. She read for hours in the park, she said.
Meanwhile, I
took a bus there (like Maria) and walked back, all the time staying in my own
imaginary Sound of Music World (she has not heard of Sound of Music -- ever!)
As she
detachingly listened to my going on and on about the beautiful medieval town
of Dustein (I felt like a kid in front of her), a small smile crept up to her
mouth.
It barely
registered an upward curl on her lip.
At that moment,
she appeared nice.
She occupied the
upperdeck of the bunk bed on the left side of the room. I occupied the uppdeck of the bunk bed on
the right side of the room. Before I
fell asleep, I turned my head to look at her. For some reasons it calmed me that she was sleeping there.
I was drifting
in the clouds of the twilight zone when someone gently nudged me. A warm hand.
I opened my
eyes. Bleached blonde hair. White face with sun-burned cheeks.
That same slight
curl of the lip which was a smile.
I had asked her
the night before to wake me up at 6am to catch an early train to Vienna,
since she was to wake early too to catch her flight back to Germany.
And as I was
sleepwalkingly brushing my teeth and wondering whether she had left without
saying goodbye, there was a gentle knock on the door, so gentle the sound was
almost covered by the sound of my brushing teethes.
She was in her
full travelling equipments.
"I just
want to say goodbye. Have a good
trip."
I didn't even
know her name. And she never asked
for mine. It is strange how human
beings could regard each other from short interactions. In such a short time, I've developed this
quiet respect and sisterly regard toward this German girl who has a smile
with that slightly curled lips.
She stayed in
Salzburg for four days. Her whole
soccer team was supposed to come but they cancelled at the last minute. She decided to continue as planned.
Her flight
lasted only an hour. So this is
really just a short solitary get away for her.
Imagine this --
no running around the city with a camera to take snapshots of tourist
sights. Just spend four days staying
in a quiet church hostel, which is almost an abbey itself with its bare
interior and juxtaposition to the church bell tower and mausoleum. Every morning the St. Sebastian bell would
ring at each quarter of an hour. When
you read on the upper deck of the bunk bed, you could hear the clicking of
the heels of pedestians on the cobblestone Linzergasse below the window of
your room. You could even see them.
You woke up by
the St. Sebastian bells. You brushed
your teeth and changed into your comfort clothes. Then you went downstairs for breakfasts, simply prepared by the
nuns. Afterwards you walked out to
Linzergasse, following the twists and turns of the cobblestone path until you
hit the bridge over the Salzburg river.
But you didn't cross the bridge.
You turned left, and continued along the Salzburg river with your
book. Walked toward where the sun shined
into your eyes.
Knowing that
your backpack and belongings are safely ensconced next to your bunk bed in
that small room at St. Sebastian.
You need not
move anymore.
And then
strolled 12 km to the Hofburg's hunting palace.
Then took the
book out from your light backpack.
You found a
bench along the Hellbrunn Alee.
The Unterberg
Mountain before you, and tree shades above your head, with birds lining up on
its branches.
And you will
just read. Crossed your leg, leaned
back on the bench.
The bells of the six churches in Salzburg so far away. |
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Last
Updated: 2/11/2008
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