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Lindau & Bregenz 20th May

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Starting to run out of puff. We’ll need a rest day soon.

Yesterday we went back on the lake, via ferry to Bregenz. The town itself isn’t all that pretty. Too many bad modernizations of old buildings. The city has a reputation for out-there architecture, and there were a few things to make you stop and ponder. But most of it could be any old badly run-down part of Vienna suburbia.

But Vienna doesn’t have a Pfanderbahn…a cablecar that hoiks you straight up to the top of the 1000-metre Pfander that overlooks Bregenz… and the world, really. On a clear day you can see Constance, but a bit of heat haze stopped that. Still, ringed by gigantic mountains, with the dead-flat Lake glowing turquoise, it’s a pretty view that you can stare at for quite a bit.

We hiked down, and staggered into town a few hours later. We carried lunch but stopped at a farmhouse Stubel on the way down. Going out of their way to re-enforce my mindset about The Austrian, a boisterous group of hikers sitting nearby and suddenly burst into song. No Lederhosen though.

The old woman and her badly-toothed middle-aged daughter were interested to chat, after the crowds moved on, when I pointed to their budgies and said they were from Australia. They don’t see many English-speakers, much less Australians. Sylvia interests them, with her Austrian heritage but clearly someone from another land/culture.

We did speak to some other Australians. On the rather empty ferry it wasn’t hard to overhear two old Australians yakking away. When I ended up by chance standing next to them at the top of the Pfander lookout I spoke to them. It was odd watching Avery go through a slow-motion process where the penny dropped that he could understand me, that I was speaking English to him, with an Australian accent. Avery and Lola (I kid you not) have been on the move since January, mostly WWII site-hopping.

Later, off the mountain, we saw them again, drawn, like us, to the noise of the brass-band at some wine-sellers sampling event.

Bregenz, apart from being an expensive snow-town, is an arty place. They put on a festival with a huge floating stage (look up “Bregenz floating stage” on Google). Each year the scenery is gob-smacking. A 10-story skeleton holding a book…a gigantic eye…this year it’s an opera about the death of Marat. I don’t know my opera but I know my assassinations. Marat was murdered in the bath by his maid as he compiled more death lists for the guillotine during the French Revolution. The three story model of Marat’s toweled head is modeled on the painting of the murder. But it’s not on until July, so no opera for us.

Death of (giant) Marat

You would think. Luckily, there was an opera performance on back at Lindau.

I earned some husband-points by agreeing to attend Mozart’s Magic Flute. All I can say is, well, you should try everything once. With luck (and next time a point-blank refusal) I won’t have to go to another three hour puppet-opera again.

Lindau has a Marionette Theatre. For three hours the puppets bounce around, miming to a pre-recorded soundtrack. I wasn’t conscious for the entire event, but came too enough to think, “Oh. Amusing. Ha.” “Just like people…only wooden.” You’d think tv producers of endless schlock like “Neighbours” would cotton onto the Dolmio lurk…if you use puppets you don’t have to worry about actor’s egos, payrolls, copyright releases and so on. How come we haven’t had a puppet soap? Or forensics show?

Anyway, back in Lindau the show went ahead despite the Puppet Meister being involved in a car accident last week. Well, that’s what they said. You and I know the evil puppets come to life at night and attacked him with their pointy little knives and sharp teeth in his sleep, but they gloss over that sort of stuff. You only get the truth from people like the Brothers Grimm.

Written by wurstofvienna2011

May 20, 2011 at 3:42 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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