Graz, Austria

After getting off to the amazing start of missing my train to Austria by one minute, crying over my non-refundable ticket, falling flat on my face because my huge bag was slung over my shoulder in a manner totally inappropriate for its size, picking myself off the floor with whatever dignity I had left before crying some more to the woman at the ticket counter until she gave me the ticket to the next train for free (whether it was because she felt sorry for me or simply wanted to get me away, I do not know), I finally arrived in Austria, much later than planned, dumped my bags on Lily and Katie and let them carry me home.

The rest of my week was much more successful and I quickly fell in love with Austria. The entire country is full of quaint, colourful houses which line cobbled streets and rivers, stone churches and forts which sit on top of green hills, old men roasting chestnuts on every corner and trams. All of this set against the backdrop of the Alps.

We stayed with a woman named Barbara who has three older daughters and lives in a suburb just outside Graz but only 20 minutes away from the city centre by tram. We spent a lot of time cooking in her kitchen because eating out was never factored into our budget, so we made spätzle. Lots and lots of spätzle. For those of you that don´t know, spätzle are a sort of tiny dumpling/pasta which you can melt with cheese, fry with butter and breadbrumbs or put in soups. I´d post a recipe but Lily and I are renowned for throwing things together in a bowl and hoping for the best. Our spätzle are no exception. 

When we weren´t cooking, we were walking around the city, persuading shop assistants to replace our worn out boots, buying warmer clothes and seeing friends. It was our friend Kati´s birthday while we were there and she had a Turkish-themed party with lots of yummy food, cocktails and shisa. All three of which we had too much of so we ended up leaving early, doing the two hour walk home and waking up with blisters on our feet. 

Lily and I got a lift to Munich via this website which is sort of like hitchhiking minus the standing on the side of the road for hours with your thumb stuck out and a cheezy grin plastered on your face. It´s called Mitfahrgelegenheit and I highly recommend it to anyone travelling around Europe because it is 100 000 times cheaper, faster and more reliable than European trains.  

Juliet and her many Romeos

So this is how the story goes...Once upon a time there was a bank in the centre of Munich which was partnered with a bank in Verona. As a tribute to the great love story which orginated in the city, the bank in Verona had a statue of Romeo and Juliet outside it. As a gift, the bank in Verona once gave the other bank an identical statue of their beloved Juliet. The idea was that people should place a bouquet of flowers at her feet and then stroke her cheek. In return, they would be blessed with love. Deciding that this was not where the public´s priorities lay, a new legend was created: forget the flowers, just stroke her breast and you will be blessed with an eternity of fun in the bedroom. Take a look at the colour of the brass and guess which legend prevailed. 

Bike Riding in Munich

My introduction to Munich happened on a bike and to be honest, it is definitely the best way to see the city. Unlike in Sydney where a lone bike rider will be beeped and abused until he gets off the road, even the buses in Munich must give way to bike riders and slowly chug along behind them if the bike rider decides he wants to ride in the middle of the road. It´s definitely my sort of city. 

 My aunty Jutta and I cycled for kilometers along the Isa river which runs directly through the middle of the city until we got to yet another park (the city is full of them) and refueled ourselves with warm sugar-roasted almonds at a christmas market. Then we rode to The Wave which is basically a choppy canal right in the middle of the city where people jump into freezing water and surf as best you can in a land-locked city whilst a bunch of spectators take photos of them. I was admittedly one of those spectators and you can see a photo below:

The Wave

Hiking the Alps

Munich is a wonderful city. The two best things about it are the following:

1) It is so close to the Alps

and

2) It houses an incredibly proactive bunch of people and organise all sorts of group outings with strangers on a daily basis


So today, combining the two, Jutta and I did the thirty minute drive to the base of the mountains with a group of ten people. Wrapped in various layers of clothing we begun the long haul upwards which was so exhausting we quickly removed all but the first jacket. The rocks were slippery and much of the track was very muddy from the rain so needless to say, I slipped more than once. The scenery was however, so incredibly beautiful and overwhelming that it was all worth it a hundred times over. Our path went to the top of three mountains but at the top of the second it begun raining so we quickly retreated to a hut nearby for a much needed hot chocolate. The highest point we reached was 1344m above sea level at the top of the third mountain which is a baby mountain compared to the rest of the Alps but was enough for my Sydney lungs which are used to breathing at 0m above sea level. It is hiking tradition to eat a chocolate at every summit you reach, which is marked by a cross, and the chocolates are supplied by a member of the group. I think this is wonderful.

We begun the steep climb downwards and celebrated at the bottom with more chocolate and shots (I could get used to this) before making our way to a nearby christmas market for glühwein (warm, spiced red wine) and maroni (roasted chestnuts). The hike took us just over five hours and was AMAZING.

The Group

Top of the first summit

Who says you can´t have art on top of a mountain?

Post-hiking boots

Attempting to clean my boots

Cheers to a good day

Glühwein at a christmas market

Braving the German Bath House

So the thing with Germans is they like to get naked. Watch any German TV station for five minutes and you will see what I mean. Their bath houses are no exception. In fact, it´s not so much a custom as it is a strictly enforced rule. After a five hour hike in the Alps, every muscle in my body hurt and I was freezing so when Jutta suggested that we head straight to this beautiful old bath house in town I quickly agreed. Only once we were standing in front of the entrance to the wonderful world of spas, saunas, steam rooms and pools did I remember this condition of entry. Four years ago, my thirteen year old self disregarded the rule and I received many disapproving stares until I was asked to either strip or leave by the attendant. Of course, I left. At fifteen, it was much the same story. However, at seventeen, I decided it was time to face my fear of swimming completely naked in a room full of strangers and so, I had to bare all. 

The bath house WAS beautiful with high domed ceilings and elaborate tiling and individual wooden change rooms. The steam room was my favourite because vision was slightly hindered once inside and half an hour gave my muscles the recovery they so desperately needed and my skin the best detox it ever had. In the end I got used to all the naked people around me but after an hour I was more than happy to put my swimmers back on and plunge into the public swimming pool outside.