Alana and Shannon`s Sh*t Show

The next stop was the loveshack, without the love and add traveller's so really it was the Traveller's Shack, but it was just as good. Ha! Ha!

After 22 long years anticipation on Vienna's part, your re-energized travellers descended on the unexpecting city admist tone deaf renditions of the immortal Billy Joel (on Shannon's part- Lana on the other hand ALWAYS sings in perfect harmony). Our first victim was Schonbrunn, we took the palace by storm. Fully equipped with audio guides, looking fully cosmopolitian with our cell phone esque headpieces, we filled all those empty spaces in our heads with the lives of the Habsburgs including Franz Joseph adn Maria Theresa.

(For those of you who didn't know: Vienna is a part of Europe.. frankly we were floored.)

After the palace we trudged up an ungodly hill

where Shannon and I came abruptly face to face with the embarassing truth that we would have died on our Austrian mountaineering adventure had the snow and complete white-out not stopped that parade dead in its tracks. Our mountain was instead a perfectly manicured palace grounds with paved zig-zagging paths. We were even further put to shame by all the amazingly bouncy runners in their reflective gear and wind pants that seemed to be able to find nothing better to do than taunt us as they so gracefully jaunted past.

After conquering said mountain, your explorers dared venture into a labyrinth of shrubberies which had unfortunately succumbed to the usual vegetative tendencies of autumn. However, a maze is still a maze regardless of its transparency. It's even more disheartening when you can see where you need to go but cannot for the life of you determine how it is that you will accomplish your goal. Forget Chinese water torture for driving your enemies insane, just build a plexiglass maze and put a blaring red exit sign a thte center of it.

After battling our way through, your heroic protagonists reached the homestretch. This last treacherous few meters consisted of a boardwalk and stepping stones spanning a minefield of motion sprinklers. We thought we were clear, had so far successfully avoided drenching our shoes and pant legs when along came evil incarnate. Wearing the guise of a friendly tourist, this enemy of mankind or at least those who wish to remain dry, swooped over your adrenaline infused heroines and successfullly tripped the motion sensors.

Before we describe the horrible sound that emitted from Alana's desperate lips, we much first explain her terrifying encounter with another standing pool of water only days before. Betti's parents have done a beautiful job of landscaping their front lawn, complete with clearly marked, convenient paths leading around obstacles. However, for Alana, Frost must rewrite his poem. Two roads emerged and Alana flustered decided to take the pond, take the pond knee deep.

Therefore, really it is only logical that another wet sock, shoe and pant leg warranted the scream, well sort of.

After a little bit of confusion as to what we were doing and where we were going in Salzburg and area, we finally thought we had our heads on straight and made the executive decision to head to Munich to take in what we apparently missed during the single day haze that was Oktoberfest. But then we realized we had but one day to explore before we would be shipping ourselves, our packs, and our overstuffed grocery bags back to Austria so a motion was passed, we voted anonymously. It was split vote... after badgering those whom we thought were responsible.. we voted again. This time it was unanimous. We would go to Linz. And yes friends, this time we really were going to camp.
With new found entusiasm and our get-up-and-go restored to its original vigor, we found a fine little camping spot after again having our sanity questioned three times by the locals... "You know that it's cold, right?" Well, we decided that it may be cold but we are from Canada, are we not... if it's not snowing , we will utilize our brand shiny new tent and our wonderful below zero sleeping bags and we'll take our random assortment of canned beans, prepackaged semi-redy-to-eat hamburgers, pepperoni sticks and cheese and we'll spend a night in a tent in beautiful Austria, dammit, even if it kills us....it almost did.
We did it.
And we will never do it again.

Note: A deserted campsite allows for camping in the bathroom. While enjoying breakfast of soy milk and muesli, we let our wet tent and sleeping bags dry out. Cleary we should have just pitched it here in the first place.

We made it back to the city center, hopped a train and a bus that was really more of a van. Its only Shannon and I that can turn an innocent van ride into a gongshow. First we tried to find a bus as was clearly stated on the ticket. We had one minute from the time we stepped off the train to step onto the bus and we were a little flustered, needless to say. So we went to the first bus we saw, the driver pointed us to the next, that driver pointed us to the next until finally they pointed at the van. So we get on this van and the driver asks us where we're headed, of course it's in German so one of the other passengers on the van had to help us out. Finally we pile into the van and flop down onto the seats and start our cramped trip to Betti's house. Even getting of the van-bus seemed to be a challenge for poor Alana and Shannon... we grabbed our packs and bags and headed up the road all lopsided only to remember that you actually have to shut the door of a vehicle. Apparently there is now a rumour going around Austria that all doors shut automatically in Canada...no fault of our own.
Now you really need to picture us here. Up until this point nothing has really been smooth sailing. True, we learned to roll with the punches, grab the bull by the horns, make lemonade out of our proverbial lemons, etc. But nothing was a real walk in the park. So we showed up at Betti's door, me in green quick dry cargo pants, running shoes that were once upon white, bundled up in a scarf, toque, mitts, hooded rainjacket and Shannon in lime green sandal-shoes, week old worn jeans, bandanna, toque with a cold and a cough. We're both laden down with packs too big or too crooked and grocery bags hanging at our sides.
So this is how we stepped, or rather stumbled out of the van and pretty much right into Betti's yard. It seemed way too easy. so much too easy that I was about to turn away and head up the street in search of a house that should be monumentally more difficult to find when Betti pulled up right behind us. Apparently you don't have to know what's going on or speak the language to get where you need to go.
We were taken in (and I say taken in because it seemed more a matter of charity than anything else), fed frankfurters (we learned quickly not to eat them with a knife and fork..wahoo! FINGERFOOD!!), bread and tea. It was pretty much amazing.

After 2 days of the cultural capital of Europe 2009 in which we encountered interactive science displays, Sachertorte, wienerschnitzel, Linzertorte and the best pizzeria in the world ( I'm convinced - sorry Italy, you have been outdone), we rediscovered the chidren in us (although I'm not totally sure we ever lost them) at a gnome fantasyland train ride. We hopped a tram to the top of a hill/mountain depending on your point of reference where there was a beautiful chapel and cafe, but more importantly the kiddy tunnel train that took us through a land of gnomes and reintroduced us to the magic of fairytales. Hansel & Gretl, Snow White & the Seven Dwarves, Cinderella and Little Red Riding Hood were all perfectly preserved in a wonderland of five year old fantasy. And yes, we were the only ones present over the age of 15 that did not have kids in tow. Pretty much the most fun ever!!

An Aside:
I would like to take a moment to thank Betti's mom, on behalf of ourselves and our own mothers for taking such marvelous care of teh two vegabonds that showed up on your doorstep. Hot meals and Vicks vaporub when you are sick with a cold are so much better when prepared or administered by a mom. And P.S. when we get home I'm making pumpkin soup and Sachertorte... two things that need to be added to EVERY cook's repertoire. Delish!!

The ignious plan for Salzburg was, as previously stated, completely foiled. So with our egos slightly bruised we reverted to the more appropriate touristy endeavour: sightseeing in the city that worships Sound of Music. (It is important to note, for our travelling reputation, that we did not take part in any tour, monument or trashy souvenir related in any sort to this "pearl" of Salzburg.) Alas with pages 7 to a million ripped out of the Salzburg guide we were able to visit a modern art gallery, the local museum and then got kicked out of an opera house. (Clearly they don't realize how extremely classy we are).

Really all we wanted to do was add a little culture to our day, perhaps take in some theatre or dance. The majestic opera house seemed like an adventure and warranted a check on the old bucket list. But alas Mr. Pomp and Circumstance stood on the other side of the massive door. Now one would assume an employee snazily dressed who spends his entire shift by the door, would have but one purpose. It would be assumed said purpose would be to open the door. Perhaps he misunderstood his job description because we had to do this ourselves. So we reluctantly opened the door (ladies of our standing hardly perform such a strenuous task) and flashed our best and friendliest Canadian smile. To which he answered, after a horribly unsubtle glance up and down, "The opera house is not opened to the... public." (Imagine emphasis on the 'c' and dripping with disdain) In my next life as a ridiculously influential socialist, this shall be a paticular bone of contention on which my soap box will rest. Ye be warned Mr. P&C.

Perhaps it was my homemade haircut, compliments of Alana and a pair of five euro scissors. Sorry Lana- I just kid, the haircut actually looks pretty fantastic. Screw Lonely Planet my friends, that is how you do Europe on a shoestring.
(As a compeletly random side note: Be careful that you don't believe all that you read in travel guides. Our confidence was shattered very early on when a Lonely Planet guide to Canada listed the Patricia as the top budget accomadation in Saskatoon. Need we say anymore.)

The silverlining of the experience was that we were able to go back to the hostel and share our experience with new found freind Tam (a Kiwi).

(This was Tam's first time wearing a scarf... EVER!)

Admist the background music of "Doe- a deer, a female deer" on a loop, we agreed our beer would probably be enjoyed in a slightly different atmosphere. The exchange: Heavy Metal. Our impromptu pub crawl's first bar boasted pool, darts and long golden locked bartenders. Continuing on down the street our next pub had so much strongbow, and was so Irish it became our last as well.

(Note: To our future generations: a little piece of your mothers can be found in this bathroom)

Setting:
Breathtaking Austrian countryside. Two young zealous hikers meander through stream and valley on route to the inviting peak looming in the distance. Squirrels run underfoot, wild berries are savoured on route, energetic birds braid their hair in the morning and Gnomes scamper between rock and glen sprinkling sunshine and rainbows in their path.

Mission:
Aquire suitable/ real tent and approriate rain gear in case of light magical drizzle.
ACCOMPLISHED

Mission:
Aquire suitable provisions including bread crumbs for trail back.
ACCOMPLISHED

Mission:
Scale mountain via gondola as means of scouting appropriate trails.
EPIC FAILURE

Setting:
Gondola- Two naive wannabe hikers, three Asian tourists, two overbearing German parents with small child. (Stage Direction: Cue incrusiating suspenseful music).

Swaying gondola suddenly engulfed with dense fog halfway up mountainside. Silence befalls the captive guests as the driver warms hands agaisnt the increasing cold.

The violent shudder signals a successful arrival at hte top of what one can only assume is a moutain.

Doors open to reveal a small barrack which looks more like a remote research station in its secluded state than a tourist must see.
Being the cliche adventurous one, the hikers push open steel doors disregarding the warning that such an action is done under their own risk. The rest of hte group cautiously follow their lead as they are confronted head on with white. Foot high snow blankets any rements of trails while whore frost and icicles claim any nearby object.

Bewildered, the one hiker attempts to wipe a route map to a readable state, however fog makes a cliff and a ledge undistinguishable.

Such a state surfaces two reactions from the hikers:

- the infectiously friendly one decides perhaps hiking is not such a good idea

- the overactive imagination of the other lets her take comfort in the fact the gondola driver will probably be the mysterious snow killer's first victim.

The descendent off of the snow fortress was accomplished without the German family. The two humbled hikers escaped with their lives but not their dignity. Perhaps next time they will heed the locals warning's when they exclaim: "You know it's cold right?!"