Next Please!

Post München landscape was awe inspiring.
It is the kind of area one expects to find two small children left in the woods destroying and eating a poor old lady's porch. Or a burly axe weilding man, crying on a rock after sending a young beautiful girl into the woods instead of murdering her as his orders had been. Yes woods. Real woods with dark green canopy's shielding a damp mossy floor. Wild mushrooms under century old trees. And mountains. Lots and lots of mountains. Snow peaked mountains. Glacier water lakes that looked like a smurf had had a bath...

Our come down from the seizing fit that was Oktoberfest consisted of immersing ourselves into mother nature's wide and comfortable bosom. Welcome to Berchtesgaden. We stayed in a little old bed and breakfast nestled between snow capped mountains, with flower boxes beneath every window, a waterfall beside it and run by a charming old lady with a moustache. A short stroll down steep and winding roads lead us into town where the streets were lined with cafes and restaurants all oozing charm and wafting alluring scents of plums, cream and stewing meat. A hike came first, however, and once the fog had lifted from the lake, a little electric boat transported us into a world unbeknownst to my imagination. Walking can be tiring at such times and no one seems to appreciate this more than the Europeans, hence, gratiously, they had converted an old farmhouse into an Alm on the far side of the lake. The Alm is a feat of human ingenuity. First there were the lush green pastures, then the bright ginger cows, then comes the dairy goodness. I had certainly walked up an appetite...heck even if i hadn't that wouldn't have stopped me from throwing myself face first into the barrels of fresh cheese and bread. Oh mein Gott! I smacked my lips together as i sucked down a fresh krug (handled glass) of butter milk, could hardly breathe as i scoffed on dark rye bread with smoked meat and fresh, soft, white cheese then, when i thought it had ended, what should be thrust into my hand but the traditional stampl of post meal schnapps. Not just any schnapps. Obstler. Clear. Herby and oh so burny! But if it's good enough for the locals it will do for me!! Getting a little drunk somewher one requires their footing is, however, not such a genius plan. It did make the trip home seem slightly shorter and the slippery sheer cliff face rock paths a little less intimidating. Now, after such a trip one can only imagine how hungry we were so a slice of wasp coverd (everything is always surrounded by wasps when it is warm which is something i still struggle with) plum küchen was in order. Time to go shower and prepare for dinner, with a pause to frolic in the fields Julie Andrews being tasered style. Dinner at another warmly lit, meat smelling, culturally infused gasthaus. Venison gulash with spaetzle and wheat beer. Wow!...sorry i need to stop writing here a i have just eaten a pebble of brown grey cheese which tasted like fresh cow poo. radnerkäse. Thanks Alex.

Hmm hmm. Dinner was followed, in the traditional manner once again, with more schnapps, this time far more palatabe pear and apricot but just as burny and powerful. I later found myself drinking from the troughs of mountain water located around town. Not sure if this is something the locals take a shine to or not.
The next morning found us cable-car ing it up to the summit of Jenna where a short but difficult trek took us to the very peak. With the thin air slightly rasping through my lungs and the flocks of europeans and their special walking sticks, termed nordic walking...looks very dicky to me! zing! we finally found our panorama! Could see all the way to the Alps. Felt insignificant.

It is at this point that my disease prone lungs decided they had had enough and a bronchial infection took hold!! Woo! I was taken to a small town in Bürgenland, Austria to recover, where Alan Rickmann's doppleganger made me better. I did, despite my being mostly housebound, experience a true small-town festival in celebration of the ancient art of corn kernel air drying. It was just an excuse to drink white wine spritzers, as this is wine country, and eat more. And eat i did! I thought it would take away my disease. Crepe style pancakes with chocolate nut cream and fruit, rich red gulash and soft bread, and far too many wine spritzers which when combined with german paracetamol (which is twice as strong as the stuff back home but of which fact i was unaware until the effects had worn off) left a bizzare stocking-over-the-lense type sleepy haze in place of normal thought function. I lost a week sleeping and attempting to ooze all the phlegm from my body but have recovered and am currently in Austria where i have been searching for Rex and dining with the Von Trapps.

But the opera is calling my name so i shall reconvene at a later date...which might be much later as i am not sure how Italy is with internet....whether that technology has spread there yet i am unsure...