From Writhe’s journal:

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. Not saying anything bad about tribes and Indian hairstyles, but I must have really messed mine up for people to think this. This is the second person in a week that has asked me! 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.