sunset says, "we see this all the time."

I set my alarm for 3am.  And I woke up.  I've always written better in the middle of the night when the mind is somewhat untainted by a day's worth of thoughts and responsibility.  And so I hope to document the past few weeks when my mother flew to Vienna and we traveled by train, metro, bus, and foot to Italy, Switzerland, Germany, and, naturally, Osterreich.  

It was mandatory that she stay in Vienna at least 4 days in order to understand the diversity of beauty in this city.  An opera, a symphony, museums dedicated to Gustav Klimt and Friedensreich Hundertwasser, a handful of palaces, and a cemetery honoring several million (post-humously, of course) were just a bird's eye view of this beloved home's treasures.  Two Saturdays ago we reserved couchettes (a sort of bed) on an overnight train to Florence where our 'abroad' journey would begin.  Sleep is more of a theory on overnight rides for me, and without the companion of music my mind may have succumbed to the hypnotism of the train's rhythms and anonymity of dark skies and street lights.  

'For the Widows in Paradise, For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti' - Sufjan Stevens

'Hey ya' - Obadiah Parker

'Seasons Change' - Corinne Bailey Rae

'Raining At Sunset' - Chris Thile

'In Your Atmosphere (Live)' - John Mayer - the last minute and a half...just put it on repeat.

'Daughters (Live)' - John Mayer

'Free Fallin' (Live)' - John Mayer

'Gravity' - John Mayer

'Worlds Apart' - Jars of Clay

Just to give you an idea of my sanity. 

With bags under our eyes and ache throughout our limbs, we walked into Florence at dawn, around 6am, Sunday morning.  We started our 6-hour tour with the cobble-stoned streets to ourselves...streets to ourselves.  This, in Florence, is a profound treat.  The stillness in a town where 25% of world's classic art resides makes your ears hear a little better and you start looking out the corners of your eyes in order not to be surprised by Caravaggio's ghost or Michelangelo's exhaustion. The silence wasn't exactly frightening because nothing can be too frightening at the beginning of a day, but it was eerie, like I shouldn't be there.  Or maybe that I shouldn't be allowed to be there.  But I was, and so was my mom, and we watched the sun rise over Tuscany's famed hills from Ponte Vecchio bridge.  

that sunrise from ponte vecchio

That afternoon we caught our train to Cinque Terre.  Six years ago, a large group of us escaped to this Mediterranean haven made popular by Rick Steves for the day (on our Italy group trip), and Austin, Josh, Hunter and I started hiking.  We went from Riomaggiore to Manarola, Corniglia and Vernazza.  Somewhere along the four (of five) villages we ate seafood spaghetti from a woman on the coast.  It has remained a favorite day in my life.  Having heard all the hype from my past experience, my mother was insistent on seeing such a place.  Cinque Terre doesn't disappoint.  

Manarola

And, as in many moments in the livelihood of traveling, we met instant friends.  Unlike many of those moments, these were not just interesting roamers, they were more like kindred spirits:  Mariah and Tor.  When this quiet, handsome shaved-headed man in his mid-thirties introduced himself, I understandably repeated, "Tor?"  He casually responded, "Yeah, my parents were hippies and thought Tom was too common and came up with Tor instead."  I liked them immediately.  They have been married a couple years, live outside of San Francisco, and were traveling throughout Italy for 3 weeks to celebrate the end of long schooling in both their lives.  Mariah is now a psychologist who studied for a year in Italy twelve years ago.  They met working at a non-profit organization where they invested in the lives of teenagers, Tor just finished film school on top of co-fostering two teenagers while he was still single, and Mariah was busy reading Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.  Yes, conversation was unceasing.  They sweetly invited Mom and I to join them for dinner after we had gotten settled into our hostel, and so we dropped our bags in Levanto (5 minute train ride from Cinque Terre) and wandered, ate, and communed with Tor and Mariah until long after sunset.  It is often I wished there could be a place on earth where blessed strangers could become dear friends.  

We awoke the next morning to the kind of sky where the sun rays burst through thick clouds dramatically, and dance upon waves.  We hiked just two of the villages, breathed gallons of fresh air, and left for Nizza Monferrato to visit with my friend, Rachel Stowe-Scarci, and her darling husband Giulliano.  Their cute and cozy apartment where the year-long newlyweds have lived was a inviting refuge for two nights, as was their company.  Tuesday, our full day with them, we spent the day touring Giulliano's family vineyards, the winery where they take their harvested grapes, and Rachel and I went to yoga.  First things first, the moment Giuliano took us outside of the winery with small plastic cups (just larger than a Protestant communion beverage), went to the container that held 100,000 gallons of wine, poured us cold, un-filtered, dessert wine, I knew that that very moment would be a good one to remember.  

Giuliano, Rachel, me, & Mama

The fog was caught in between the rows of grape farmland and gave the small Northwest Italian countrysides grand mystery.  It was a lovely contrast to slow down our travels and observe the sleepy town that made no money from tourism, and to distance myself even further from the whirlwind of hop-scotching across Europe through yoga...yes, of course, in Italian.  Being the fantastic hostess that she is, Rachel invited me along to her weekly class that met in a elementary school gymnasium in a nearby town.  About a dozen women ranging from the age of 20-50 took their instruction from a soft-spoken middle-aged man, who, incidentally, was the object of six out of twelve women's (above the age of 35) flirtation.  The combined factors of the foreign language, the 9pm starting time, our hunky instructor's whisper of a voice, and the elevator music turned classical turned Kenny G and Toni Braxton soundtrack made my rigid body quickly want to fall asleep on the wooden floor with only a thin foam mat to border my skin to its cool temperature.  Relaxing? Yes.  Entertaining? Absolutely.  Since I couldn't exactly concentrate on his more spiritual implications for our exercise, I looked to the gym's walls for amusement instead.  It was well-documented by the hands of 8-year-olds that Halloween was just three days away.  Witches and pumpkins were colored orange, purple and green; however, my favorite pieces of decor were the colored in pirates.  It was the stereotyped visual of a man with peach skin, an exaggerated snarl, crooked teeth, large hat, gold hoop earring, and the eye patch with a skull and bones taking the place of a useful eyeball.   It was so non-counter-culturally hypnotizing.  And, thankfully, the musical genius was redeemed by the Salzburger bus driver 4 days later with a bit of Bobby Dylan.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Post-yoga sweet slumber prepared us for the following day of trains...out of Italia into the land of Switzerland.  At the small town of Visp, we transfered to a local, posh train that slowly took us higher in elevation to the wealthy, elite, community of skier and snowboarder, snowbunny and bum alike, Zermatt.  We were welcomed by thick fog and heavy flakes of snow, and so we combatted the elements with hot chocolate, tomato soup, and buttery croissants...best military defense a girl can ask for.  Thick white quilts covered the land, cemetery laying to rest approximately 37 people, trees, cars, and church steeples.  The morning was beautiful, and after our long breakfast, mother and child saw the fog lift for our final hour...the Matterhorn revealed the majority of its jagged face, and the father and son duo that slept above us on the hostel bunk beds were able to shred the gnar gnar after 80 mph winds the day before.  

Matterhorn:  Zermatt, Switzerland

It is hard not to be so satisfied with velvet snow, but our schedule pushed us onward to Salzburg, Austria--home of Redbull, mountains, and the worldwide spectacle of a 1965 Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer.

Our midnight arrival begged for slumber, and an early departure on The Sound of Music tour.  Sue, our bombastic, humorous British leader kept us going with the most touristy, cheesy, and fabulous bus ride filled with trivia and celebrity gossip.  From the gazebo where Josh danced with me 6 years ago (we were 19 going on 20), the family house, and wedding chapel, we ended  up spending 4 hours climbing every mountain and fjording most streams. 

small town outside of Salzburg, Austria

The evening was filled with fajitas and a hostel-wide viewing of that same 1965 classic...it really is spectacular how 75% of Salzburg's tourism comes from that one film.  

One major city left:  Munich.  The vast majority of the designated time was spent going to and fro Fussen, land of Neuschwanstein, the castle-making of crazy Ludwig and destination of all Asians and Americans.  The hike up was filled with the golden nature of autumn and the stroll down was highlighted by 4 euro bottles of water.  Returning to the streets of Munich, my instinct navigational magnetism took us to the downtown streets with lights, brezels, kirches, and one large rathaus, but it still had nothing on our Vienna Hogwarts Rathaus.

Eight days, four countries, and six cities later, Mom and I made it back to the comfortable confines of Hotel Theresianum.  Nothing like home after too many trains.  Sunday was spent resting, welcoming Kenna to a land on the other side of the world, and hearing the many anecdotes of my students and their even more impressive travels.  

And thus ended fall break zweitausendacht.  Monday was busy with Van Gogh, Schonbrun, perfume buying, and candy accumulating.  Mom, Kenna, Kayce and I ate good food and gabbed.  Tuesday morning I hugged my mama and sent her off to the airport.  Kenna time and Interlaken followed quickly thereafter.  Die Schweiss will undoubtedly be covered in the next few days.