{The Trip, Part Three: Salzburg}

My plan was to tackle Salzburg all in one post, but looking through the pictures I'm realizing I really should divide it into two. There's just so much wonderfulness to tell you about. So I'll highlight the city for now and save the Sound of Music sights for next time. (I know -- it's torture to wait!)

After driving from Filzmoos to Salzburg, we began our day in (what became) the usual way: pastries and coffee at a quaint cafe. Some decisions are hard to make.

Sigh. I very quickly fell in love with Salzburg. I had been eager to see it because of my love for The Sound of Music, but I was so taken by its beauty, history and character that I soon adored it for its own sake, too.

"Quick, Brooke! Pretend like I'm taking your picture! That guy is wearing one of those hats!!!!"

After spending the morning in the Mirabell Gardens (more on that later!), we crossed the Salzach River (serenaded by a clarinetist), observed the chain link fence (which was covered with padlocks), and strolled around town for the rest of the afternoon.

My feet were happy to traipse across stone paths while my eyes took in as much as possible. I was especially drawn to the architecture -- the cathedrals towering over the streets, the storefronts and apartments painted in the palest pinks and yellows, greens and blues, the wrought iron balconies overflowing with geraniums, the occasional gentleman dressed in traditional costume.

We used to love our Lanz of Salzburg nightgowns. Fun to see a shop!

I live on the west coast of the United States, and I haven't travelled much. This means that pretty much the oldest buildings I've seen have been from the 1840s. So it was very exciting to tiptoe around a cathedral that had been built in the 1600s. The 1600s! Do you remember the line from An Affair to Remember? "I was looking up!" That's what it was like. Every inch of those cathedrals was just covered in ornate paintings, designs and sculptures. I found myself constantly "looking up," finding endless artwork and Latin inscriptions no matter how far back I craned my neck.

Although the cathedrals were somewhat touristy, there was still a beautiful hushed and worshipful atmosphere. (Disturbed only by the clip-clop of Kinsley's rain boots and an occasional sneeze from Johnny. Boy, those marble structures are echoey.)

It was also thrilling for me to be in Mozart's birth town. (If I could only listen to the works of one composer/musician for the rest of my life, it would be his. If I could only watch one movie, it would be The Sound of Music. Are you beginning to get the picture?) Of course there was a Mozart statue. Well, two. One living, one stone. The living one gave treats to the children who tossed coins into the cup.

I was slightly disappointed that "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik" wasn't being played by an orchestra 24/7, so I made up for it by lingering near the statue and humming it. Not quite the same, but I felt happy nonetheless.

The afternoon was getting away from us, but we decided to take a much needed break (Kinsley was such a trooper, walking for hours and hours!) before hitting the last few sights. The Starbucks looked slightly out of place, but it also looked familiar (and like it would have restrooms that we didn't have to pay for). The structure was actually pretty cool and old. We sipped our tea and coffee for a nice long time while watching Kinsley enjoy her "Clementime" orange.

Before we headed out of town, there was one more stop I needed to make. I had really wanted to find a small watercolor painting of Salzburg, and in the nick of time we found Igor and his art stand (near the horse drawn carriages, no less). He was a delightful man, telling Krista and me how "sveet" we were, helping us choose a painting for our "sveet" families back in the United States. We very willingly handed over our euros and wrapped up our time downtown, bidding Salzburg adieu.

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The painting now hangs in my kitchen. I chose this room intentionally, because a dear friend had told me to tuck these days in my pocket -- to remember the extraordinary when I'm surrounded by the ordinary. When the dishes are piled high and the dinner is late and the piano scales would cause Mozart to weep, I look up and remember. I remember that life -- from Salzburg to Vancouver -- is all so very, very sveet.