The Diary of a Drama King in Austria

Proudly presiding over my fortress of solitude

August 31st, 1990 Day 14 Salzburg, Austria

After the four-hour train ride from Munich, we were tired. And my German wasn’t functioning well. Laura and I took the “5 Bus” to a stop I could not pronounce.

We got off at Justin — something — strass — a — and people on the bus hand gestured to the hostel.

Luckily, the hostel had open rooms for 115 Austrian Schillings. $13. Dormitory style. Laura went to the blue side, and I — to red.

I had a locker outside the room (122–5). The room was vacant. Four beds. Nothing else, except a trash can. Down the hall, bathroom and showers.

Half an hour later, I met Laura in the lobby. What shall we eat? Once again — Italian.

Laura doesn’t eat what she cannot pronounce. She also needs a picture — like in a Chinese restaurant. Italian was her default — and she’s Italian. Her last name rhymes with spaghetti. I would love Austrian dishes. Why else come to Austria?

After dinner, Laura napped at the hostel.

I went to explore Salzburg. Did it sink in, yet? I’m in the heart of Europe?

Salzburg impressed me — and I didn’t carry a map — birds don’t carry maps. I followed my instincts.

Everything was old and quaint (duh) — and that’s the charm. Every corner opened to a new square with a fountain. The hostel was near the historic district. Salzburg, like most cities, must be felt on foot — especially where cars and buses are verboten.

A flight of mysterious stairs wound its way behind the homes. It led to the famous fortress that dominates the skyline — like the fortress in Edinburgh. What’s the name of the one here? Ja! the Festung Hohensalzburg.

The top was blocked, but I walked around the middle ring, and the narrow cobblestone paths.

At night, it was magnificent — like on the bridge of a ship. It was better without Laura. I communed with the elements and the city in silence.

For some reason, I went back pissed off. Didn’t that communion help me? Was I irritated with Laura and her Italian food and her huge suitcase. Did she ever thank me?

Anyway, I was trying to page Laura but got no answer. She was sleeping. Guys were prohibited to enter the ‘Blue Zone.’ Or did I actually need her — ? Who knows what brews down there or up there in the head, right?

Two guys in my room were sleeping. I didn’t know yet they’d be East Germans. I tried calling home, but I didn’t have the Austrian-U.S. number. I was still pissed. It was better I didn’t talk to anyone home. What’s wrong? I hated not having privacy — and the hostel restricted privacy. So many kids running around got on my nerves.

Looking back, writing on the train, bound for Venice, I don’t know what it was. Sexual tension? Why pick someone who had no interest in me other than a schmuck, her porter, tour guide, and body guard?

With restless energy, I walked behind the hostel, but that was just suburbs.

An hour later I successfully paged Laura. We met in the Spartan lobby. How was I? Well, I didn’t like it here. I was an asshole. Now and then, I get like that. I’m an impatient ass. Why didn’t I like it? I gave lame excuses. Could I have her AT&T calling card? Sure.

I used a payphone to talk to my brother Dave — twice. I got cut off once. The operator credited my call. In the telephone booth, I realized — you’re stupid. I’ll be alright, I told Laura. What a mess it must be to travel with me. Actually, my time at the hostel turned out far better for me than for Laura.

I had the East Germans to thank for that!

Laura and I sat at the curb talking to this girl from Australia, traveling by herself for seven months.

Would she mind company? So much more adventurous than Laura! And that accent! She was heading to London to work. Hey — I was heading to London, soon, too. She was a very nice girl, and she told us all about Australia.

I listened to her because she was exciting, and I didn’t need to fill holes in conversation dead zones with inane comments. I forgot her name. I thought of her as a fellow soul traveler — both like soul and sole.

Laura and I walked along the Salzach River. I was relaxed, but she seemed hyper. She didn’t get much sleep. We stopped for ice cream — guess where, reader? McDonald’s! We strolled back to the hostel. She went to bed — I ventured downstairs to the lounge.

I watched in German an Austrian comedy team and wrote about what happened in Munich. I still beat myself up for that whole episode! If I’m on vacation, why am I kicking myself? There were two others in the room. Then someone came and kicked us out. It was after hours.

I hate Authority.

But in my room, the two dudes were awake and drinking beer. It was my first doppelbock. I loved drinking new styles of beer in Europe. Laura still only liked lagers — like Heineken — oh, and wine. The guys were quite nice — telling me all about East Germany.

They told me of life under communism. It was fascinating. Again, I wished I was taking detailed notes. They were great guys who spoke English, but very slowly, and loved having me to talk to, especially when I told them I planned on being an English professor one day. I could see they were struggling, but did it matter? It’s amazing how you can communicate with only nouns and simple verbs.

English is tough.

September 1st Salzburg, Austria Day 15

We woke up late, and NOBODY sleeps late in a hostel.

We ate rolls and jam — coffee and tea — and then went to explore. In the late morning, the hostel closes for a few hours. I was the last one out. The East Germans made fun of me — needing to shower. Don’t they know about Americans and their showers? It was almost nine. And that was early for Laura.

Before heading into town, we gave a load of laundry of our filthy, stinking clothes to this energetic, young Austrian woman. In an hour and a half, our clothes would be clean. The conveniences of home are quickly missed! At a little cafe, I had orange juice and a pastry. Finally, something Austrian! For over an hour, we wrote postcards home, and I continued working on a new story that takes place in Paris — “Cul de Sac.” Probably a stupid, obvious title.

“Are you writing about me?” Laura asked — one of her big concerns.

“No — just a new short story I started back in Paris.”

We picked up the laundry — the whole thing cost eight bucks. Not bad. And well worth it! Better than washing the clothes in a bathtub!

In the main square, we found the Information Office and secured a map. It was just after noon. There was much to see, and we saw a lot of it. We visited St. Peter’s Church and an eerie graveyard. Cinnamon pretzels were for lunch! Pretzels? Ya — Austrian-ish food! The fountains in the courtyard were beautiful — as what else would they be — as was the interior of the church.

Laura wanted to visit the von Trapp household — you know, from The Sound of Music. That is 24/7 here — and while a tepid fan, I can’t take 24/7 TSOM. It was in a nice area, of course, and Laura really wanted to see it. She was a fan. With directions, we headed off. Directions were needed a few times, and the people, who spoke English, of course, were quite pleasant and helpful.

Since we kicked the Nazi Menace out of Austria, they could be nice to two American kids.

Many little canals ran full and steady along the streets.

We finally found the lake and the house. Ducks in a larger canal were having difficulty navigating against the current. We make jokes about them. Not sure they were funny — and I identified much too much with the ducks. Why not just fly? Some ducks climbed up the grassy bank and walked while others continued paddling.

An Asian tour bus was outside of the house. Like I said — TSOM — 24/7. They were making the identical pilgrimage but in style. I started talking with this Scottish bloke who was the tour director. He had a full beard — reddish in hue, and he talked about how he just moved from place to place, doing these types of coach tours. Africa was next, he said.

Talk about a drifter — but making money as a drifter! Was this a career path for me? And what did a Scotsman know of Africa? I guess you read a World Book Encyclopedia, you can talk about anything like an expert, right?

Heck, that’s what I do at home. Going to the bathroom, Walter? Guess I’ll take “B” with me and study Botswana. No, seriously, those World Books opened worlds for me, and I think I read everything. That’s why my stupid homework was never done. It’s how I got smart, I think. Thanks, mom!

He took our picture by the lake. We expected to see Anif Castle, but it was just a large, yellow mansion. Nice, but not what Laura expected. She expected Hollywood. The original house was not in the film. Instead, a “set” was used a way down by the lake. Hollywood always needs to improve reality!

After some photos, we walked back to town, much easier than getting there. I needed food. We ate fine cuisine at McDonald's. I actually did need something fast and familiar — and I scarfed down two cheeseburgers, a chicken salad, a large fry, and a large milkshake. With the miles we were walking every day, I think my gut could take it.

After that dinner, we relaxed at the hostel.

I wrote and talked for the longest time with the East Germans — well, they weren’t East Germans anymore, but full-fledged, Germans with no adjective.

It was the first time they were allowed out of their country. We told each other about our countries — and how governments are against each other, but not people. It’s always politicians and generals and majors and DuPonts and defense contractors who want war, right?

They were both into computers — the wave of the future, especially for “backward” East Germany. We discussed politics and the reunion of East and West and enlightened me! How could I hate — or fight against two such great guys over pints of pilsner?

Hate governments, not people!

I met Laura around nine at night.

I should have taken my new friends out, but I didn’t and we strolled through the town, looked in windows, and I talked a lot this evening. She wanted to know about my female friends. Yeah, that’s right. Twenty-one, and I never had a girlfriend.

The look on her face revealed that such a statement told her so much. I didn’t want her to know I was some virgin or something, so I lied and said I had some experiences, but not really anything “long term.” But yeah — I pursued unavailable or uninterested women. And I still do not know why.

Later, we walked the outer ring of the fortress. A park bench overlooked the eastern side of the town. She talked about her relationship with her girlfriend Michele and about her ex-boyfriend Doug. It was beautiful up there. Then it started to drizzle.

I was asleep by eleven o’clock.

September 2nd Salzburg, Austria Day 16

This is what happened.

Really. I’m not making this stuff up. If I was, it would be a best-seller and not the “Diary of a Young Drama King in Austria.”

Laura and I got up early with the rest of the hostel. After breakfast, we met in the lobby around nine. The sky was dismal. It was cold. We didn’t have bright blue, azure skies in Salzburg, even for one day. Maybe for a few hours, we saw the sun. Hollywood likes the sun — especially when the hills are alive with the sound of music. Laura and I sat under this overhang. It was drizzling. She planned the day.

The Museum of Natural History is a peculiar museum. It contains so much stuff. Incredible. Like five museums in one. The museum contained tropical fish, alligators, lizards, snakes, minerals, displays of Indian artifacts, the space program, the human body, including dead embryos, and medicine, the use of, and displays of every animal known — stuffed, of course.

The Toy Museum was next — a couple of blocks away. It was small, but interesting, displaying vintage various toys — dolls and playhouses and soldiers and paper figures and trucks and cars. The place made me think of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and the toymaker, and, oh yeah, and that Christmas special — Santa Claus is Coming to Town and the Burgermeister Meisterburger who wouldn’t allow children to have toys.

When these shows were made, there was still an anti-German bias — you know with the war. And here I think of John Cleese from Faulty Towers — and his antics with his German guests at the hotel.

At noon, we headed to where all go in Salzburg — the birthplace of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. It’s in the center of town. The price of entry, however, was outrageous — just to see his piano?

I don’t enjoy “hero” worship. Where Mozart lived and was born is not nearly as important as what the man did — his true inner “god-given” genius for musical composition.

Hungry, we looked for a supermarket but it was Sunday, and I guess Salzburg doesn’t eat on Sunday.

Everything was closed.

Instead, we walked across the Salzach River. We strolled around the Mirabell Gardens, a lovely park filled with red and yellow roses, a fountain, and tons of trimmed hedges and flowers. Watch The Sound of Music. It’s all there — just with better weather and Nazis.

By 2, we were starving. On busy Getreidegasse, we ate at Pizza Land. Oh my, we are so American! Throughout the trip, I’ve been forgetting or losing things — like my wallet back in Füssen. Remember that? At this place, I left my glasses at the table when we left the restaurant. Earlier that morning, I left my watch on the sink. I later recovered it.

“Your head is just too full of facts and ideas and not too much common sense,” she said.

The last place was Festung Hohensalzburg, the oldest remaining fortress in Central Europe. A cable car carried us to the top. We witnessed awesome views of the Alps to the south and the city to the north. For some reason, Laura remained outside by the cafe. I couldn’t wait to explore a fortress! I was a kid again! Would the kid snatcher come and get me?

I loved the courtyards, the cannons, the narrow walkways, and the secret rooms. There are three levels, all very hilly. I would have been in my glory if I had a place like this as a child.

Laura and I separated for the evening. Laura was not in the mood for much of anything. Why was I melancholy that evening? These mood shifts are troubling — but think about the situation, man?

I walked to the fortress again. It was night. The moon was full — darting in between the gathering dark clouds and the reflected light silhouetted the Alps. Nice. Very nice. For the longest time, I dreamed about my life, about the stories I was writing, and what the hell was ahead of me. I was only twenty-one.

That night, I walked around the town — down little streets — across big ones — along the river — over bridges — and back again — and for a second time, up to My Fortress of Solitude.

Later, I learned later that Laura did the same thing. Just walked. We didn’t cross paths. If we met as strangers, would we have gotten along better? No, I don’t think so. We both, I guess, desperately needed to be separate and alone — and that’s something — being alone — that drives me crazy. What do two people who have so little in common have to talk about 24/7 for three weeks?

When I got back to my room, I met three new guys — all from England.

Again, we had a blast — chatting. The biggest talker and ‘intellectual’ was attending Oxford; the other one, a bit chubby, was attending Haverford. And the quietest one, but the best-looking was going to Bristol University.

We talked about the differences in language — torch and flashlight — hood and bonnet. And knock up has a very different meaning. We talked about the IRA, the NRA, food, chips, beer, and women. I told them I was attending Newcastle in a couple of weeks, and they told me to look out for the Geordies. Who were the Geordies?

Oh well, I guess I’ll find out soon. Amen, and good night. We head to Venice tomorrow.

Thank you for reading! Read more of my European misadventures in The Masterpiece:

You can share your outstanding stories and inspire others. Just click the below image and be a writer for The Masterpiece.