From Writhe’s journal:
Hohensalzburg Castle. I guess I should have expected that most people speak English in touristy places. I tried to ask the guy in German where the next tour was and he answered me in rather snotty English. I’m beginning to think that Salzburg was pretty much a big waste of my time.
So I visit the castle, taking the quick lift up the side of the mountain. I take the tour. It’s OK. I visit the Torture Chamber and a few other rooms. Not really worth the bother. I get a good view from the top of the castle of the surrounding countryside. That was nice. I felt sort of at peace. While on the tour, an Asian woman asks me which Indian tribe my haircut is from. This is the second person in a week that has asked me this! Then she goes on this weird tangent about experiencing different cultures and history repeating itself and that it’s my job to keep peace… I was half listening to her because my tour guide was talking and I wanted to listen to her too. It was just a weird social situation. The tour lasted longer than I expected it to because the guide spoke in German and then said the same stuff in English. So I finish the tour and leave the castle. I find my way down to the train station. I get asked for spare change by a different gutter punk from the same group I passed earlier. I find the train station and miss my train by ONE minute. Damn. I decide to wander some more and find something to eat before the next train. I buy a hot dog at a corner booth, a thing of Coke, and a bottle of what I thought was normal water. I think I even shook it and it didn’t bubble. Unfortunately, now that I’m on the train, I opened it and it’s disgustingly carbonated.
I hope I’m able to find F, my distant relative, in Vienna. I’ve got his address, which really helps.