A Toe Dip Into The New World of Travel (Covid)

1st Movement

Vivace 

At this moment, the birthplace of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart lies a mere 100 meters away from me in the Old Town (Altstadt) of Salzburg, Austria. Whilst I scribe on parchment by candlelight,  it makes sense to listen to some of his works. Should it be a Sonata or a Requiem? Probably both. 

Kinda like my fluctuating moods during isolation… If I could be bothered to put on a bra then we had the sonata, and wine for breakfast in a leopard-print onesie? the requiem. Constantly flipping between C major and D Minor. 

Travelling during this time feels much the same, aside from my choice of attire. 

It is a cautious expedition before the borders open – targeting destinations on a “list” that I had previously dismissed due to the tourism overflow – when else does one get the opportunity to explore places in such a manner? The empty streets leave much time for alternate tones whilst pondering the new face of travel.  

My backpack was ready to go some months ago (a trilling restlessness - often referred to as Fernweh), as not only was I in isolation alone for 7 weeks, but as a creature of habit, as soon as the ski season has finished, and the last guest checked out, the door to my Pension is locked and off I go a wandering until December. Even though the ski season ended abruptly this season with a frightening en mass evacuation, the yearning crept up. To keep my sanity amongst the chaos, I dreamt of past and future adventures whilst I simultaneously explored the nuances of my well hidden introvert.  

Once hotels started opening I boarded that train with gusto. It was close to empty, with the conductors keeping a safe distance. The sign specified that facemasks were to be worn on public transport and in public areas at all times, but the dining cars were apparently still open. How does one eat whilst wearing a facemask? Not a desireable ensemble. 

I began with Innsbruck – a place I am acutely familiar with – and I stayed at “Stage 12” . As I walked in and looked to the right, the bar appeared to be busy, but it was mannequins. A clever way to adhere to social distancing. After such a long quarantine they looked very attractive and were a nice alternative to talking to the tree in my backyard. I called my mannequin Klaus, or Matthias or something: can’t remember as we got pretty tipsy. 

I’m not going to give you a blow by blow description, but  the next day I did go to the hairdresser for a blow dry and possibly another treatment which subtly assists my insistence that I am a natural blonde.  Wearing a mask for three hours was just not the same: there was no delicate Prosecco drinking, just formal interaction with no gossip (I am not sure why I said “just” as there is nothing normal about not having a gossip with your hairdresser). There was a sense of trepidation, from both the clients and the stylists, and both the former and latter often smiled from a distance and said, “Sheisse Corona”. No shit. 

Following this was the a few days of catching up with friends at the Kitzbühel Golf Club, but this is more aptly demonstrated with a sophisticated picture. And yes, there were people playing golf: watching them tee-off from “Steakhouse Kaps” was a spectator sport in itself. The high-society that encapsulates the “Glitz of Kitz”  was in good form and seemed somewhat relieved to be naturally blonde again, and for this there was glass tinkling and golf claps all round. 

My next intended destination was to be Hallstatt, the most instagrammed spot in Austria, but as the forecast was for rain I decided to save that until the weekend. My amended travel plans saw me heading to Salzburg on a once again quiet train. 

2nd Movement

Moderato 

This brings us back to the present where perhaps being in the proximity of such unbridled genius has simultaneously replenished some brain cells culled off at the golf club and also inspired me to write. Splurging on a decadent hotel may also play a part. My internal negotiation system resolved that it seems reasonable as it does not look like I will need it for International flights in the immediate future. 

I have never been here before, and yearned to see it quiet, and that it is. 

The squares are empty, but I can imagine they are normally filled with buskers, musicians and not only the culture of Mozart but Mozart’s Balls being force fed to you. No I’m not being dirty, a very kitsch confection that is purveyed in abundance are called “Mozartkugeln” and they are in the front window of all of the closed souvenir stores. 

Only a few souls in black jackets going from baroque to romantic on drizzly cobblestoned streets, plus me, a lone tourist. 

At my hotel they are admirable in all distancing precautions. There is of course disinfectant as you arrive, and all people are required to wear facemasks whilst also maintaining the required physical distance. In my room also a sign assuring you that it has been duly sanitised. I had a conversation with my “receptionist” Ulrika, but she is really much more than a receptionist. She can only be described as a saucy middle aged minx, who is the ultimate advocate for Wolford Stockings, and a consummate professional with hilarious dry humour: you really need to drag out the “r” in her name with a feisty growl. 

Some points she made chimed so very true. Whilst she was happy to be open again and have her vocation (as well as income) back in order, there is a sense of trepidation as no-one is wanting anything more to go wrong. What if something does, and what if it is traced back to the hotel? We’ve all been asking ourselves these questions about the “whats”, “ifs” and “hows” for some months, but we’re still in the middle of it. In the hotel’s case at minimum their carefully cultivated reputation could be gone as quickly as our freedoms were some months ago. It is also themes I have pondered over the months as a guest house “bad ass lady boss” in the Austrian Alps. Even though my Winter Season is still a safe distance away it is close enough for me to worry. 

With all this overthinking, I decided to partake in some retail therapy, but I can’t say it helped (even though it was the first day of the mid-year sales) as shopping also has intricate and perplexing issues. Why is one permitted to go into a store, try on clothes, yet socialdistance even when you are both touching hangers? What if someone touches their face again as they are in the change room? Why am I wearing a mask, when I am breathing on the merchandise as I pull it over my head? It is a peculiar dichotomy, and not something that I have reached a comfortable relationship with. 

Following dinner in an empty restaurant I got a small aperitif from the mini bar and sat on the tiny bench outside Mozart’s birthplace to siphon for myself an essence of genius; much more appealing to me than the fountain of youth. 

I wonder what my next movements will be? 

3rd Movement 

Allegretto  

There is a small possibility that I didn’t note the public holiday and sunshine forecast for the weekend, and the fanfare has picked up considerably. I called in the cavalry as a friend of mine was celebrating her birthday and feeling slightly melancholy having been enclosed in the valley with the same people and the same faces for so long. By lunchtime she had arrived. 

The last two days we’ve been exploring the streets, with much laughter and delicious food: after all, it is white asparagus season here. During our long lunch (which just happened to be at our hotel in Goldgasse), we had a particularly wonderful server who donned a “sophisticated” clear plastic mask, allowing us to see her beautiful smile. 

In most touristy European destinations, you can normally find the focus on not only the Historical Centre but also the bridges weighed down by kitschy declarations of love such as proposals and padlocks. Not my thing,  but I gotta say, a lone busker, harmonised with an acceptable sunset on the near empty Markarsteg was quite poignant and I may have temporarily exercised some empathy. 

Gradually there are more buskers appearing. Naturally I try and spare some change, but not for the guy playing “My Heart Will Go On” next to a fountain on his violin. There is no space for such negativity in my life. 

We also met a fellow traveller whilst having a tasty beverage in the main square. Her and her partner did not work out during this time and broke up. She took her belongings and her dog (a samoyed), and they piled into her small hatchback: kudos to that straight shooting,  “Auf Wiedersehen”. 

My friend has now left, and there are some tendrils of trepidation creeping in. The borders are open and there is an influx of people:  I am sure it is not a patch on the normal situation but many have no consideration for social distancing. Kids everywhere eating ice-creams and putting their sticky paws on everything: no shiny surface or window seems safe. And, well, some bars are packed with flirting in full force: I was good with my mannequin thanks. 

In my opinion, the opening of the borders and being here has crossed a few of the lines I drew for myself in regards to caution. Travelling in Northern Myanmar solo for 5 weeks and being on the back of a drunk 12 year old kid’s motorbike is one thing….. But in Covid exploration terms this feels slightly reckless. 

4th Movement 

Diminuendo

Alas my reader, my final movement of this “amateur chord flipping composition” finds me in the confines of my kitchen having made a stealthy retreat. I must accentuate that it’s not Salzburg, It’s me. Seeing the  Salzburg that I wished for was a unique experience, but there’s a but…. 

Perhaps I would have marched on, had it not been for the 10 days of rain forecast and my mental overstimulation. I felt secure in this decision after I arrived in The Arlberg on my overcrowded train bound for Zurich. In more ways than one I left in one world and came back in another, and I feel that I got to walk a very rare bridge leading to the beginning of the “new normal”. 

Now that I am not feeling so flat and my washing is done, more about backtracking on the backpacking. For years I have been expanding my comfort zone through travel and new experiences, but I have also trusted my instincts. Being in self isolation alone for such a long time – aside from a few geriatric neighbours waving from their balconies – and not being able to travel was out of my comfort zone in itself. I became used to solitude, the mountains surrounding me and the walks within them: best to go up and down those paths a little more for now. Overnight stays in huts, 3 day “wanders” in the Alps, supporting local businesses and maybe the occasional mid-week ventures further afield. 

A different me in a different world. 

This is by no means the fine, just a little less allegro and a little more andante.

Ca-Tash-Trophy - The year of May 2020

Here we are in the year of May 2020, and I am slowly pretending to adapt to a new way of life….

The 2019/ 2020 ski season is a distant memory as it appears even the snow was evacuated when that covert virus arrived. Restrictions are slowly starting to ease, and a while ago St Anton came out of quarantine after 40 days: naturally I was amused by this and cracked a joke to my bin about it being like a non-denominational Lent where the ski bums had to give up Jägermeister for 40 days. We found it hilarious.

Since the last blog post I have been quite lax with my writing as the purpose of this website was to share travel stories and photographs: not talk about what I had for breakfast. Sadly though, the universe is working against us all, and I am left with no choice but to tell you about not only what I am having for breakfast, but also other activities I have undertaken to distract myself from sporadic panic attacks fuelled by impending doom.

WHAT I’M HAVING FOR BREAKFAST

I cannot commentate on the aforementioned digressions with a straight face. There was going to be a flowery diatribe about how much I was missing travelling, and how I woke up one morning yearning for breakfast in one of my favourite cafes on Bondi Beach: I may have even started to conjure prose about the sidewalks and fresh sea breeze. Full disclosure: I cannot remember one single time I had breakfast at Bondi Beach when I wan’t either hungover, or still going from the night before.

During this whole fiasco, I have made poached eggs once: at 2pm in the afternoon (and that was only because I could not be assed to put a bra on to go to the supermarket). .

Yay me. I put some eggs in water. For the recipe, just google, “How do I make poached eggs”.

WHO ISN’T BAKING BANANA BREAD?

My newsfeed is filled with baking success stories, and I thought participation was key, because “we’re all. in this together”. Quite serendipitously I always have wonderfully ripe bananas: why was I the last person to find out that if you put avocados next to bananas it hastens the ripening process?

So using a dodgy oven with inaccurate settings and some apparatus you apparently use to make soups I made a lot of banana bread, and pretty much gave it away in hope of receiving something delicious in this new bartering system we got going on. Yep, my banana bread garnered me pies, cakes, face masks and so forth.

Even better, some of my neighbours (the family behind) seem to not mind it, and their young son kindly calls me “Nachbarin mit Banana Brot”. “Famale neighbour with banana bread” is so much better than “Crazy lady who sits in backyard staring at trees” - but I am not sure it is more apt.

Anyway, banana bread factory has been on a brief hiatus since that time last week when I put too much baking powder in, and the oven was left looking like a ´Gremlin had been nuked in the microwave.

Gave that one to my young neighbour.

AN OUTING WITH MY BIN

In the beginning a fair chunk of my time was spent incessantly scrolling through my news feed. At first the memes were funny, but after 3 weeks very few were even eliciting a mild guffaw. Aside from the “Bin Isolation Outing” group on Facebook. I mean, you can take the girl out of Australia.

One of my cousins suggested that this was right up my, ahem, driveway, so, again in solidarity I made a pun filled contribution.

I think that the weirdest part of this was that I was walking up the mountain with a bin, and no one I passed flinched. I am not sure if this is indicative of the Tirolean character or mine: I think I’ll go with the former on this one.

Told my bin about how I was feeling a little lonely at times from the social distancing, and he was like, “I so bin there”

She can’t….

But I, Trash, Can.

CLIMB EVERY MOUNTAIN

Naturally I have been doing boast posts about how “blessed’” and “fortunate” I am, and it feels so good to be able to “reach out” and other buzz words. I often get comments on my social media referencing The Sound of Music. I just thought I would clear this up. Most Austrians do not even know what The Sound of Music is, and have never heard of most of the songs.

Me on the other hand? Well, I’m half Australian and i go to town on it. I was talking to one friend whilst I was up the mountain and she even made me do a twirl, Maria style, and I happily obliged. Even threw in a few extras because I have no shame.

Again, no comments from the locals that saw me doing it. Peculiar.

Speaking of locals who have seen me “doing it” (and by that I am referring to my social distancing up the mountain) my neighbour who was mentioned in the last post (not the one hosting involuntary watch parties but his sister who has a tendency to squawk and gossip). She is always, ahem, enthusiastically inquisitive regarding my activities, and is never shy to vocalise her approval or disdain.

When I first started running the guest house, she was wonderfully helpful with tips on snow shovelling, and praised me for getting up to make breakfast for my guests at 0700 every morning. From that day forth I rose daily at 0630 to turn on the lights of the kitchen before going back to bed.

Being in a small village as a foreigner at the least is incredibly challenging, so it brings me great delight to report that my neighbour has seen me up the mountain on a multitude of occasions. As long as she sees me then the whole village is bound to know that I am staying fit and healthy.

A NEW STUDY

Now here’s a funny story. Ish. Kind of. Yeah, you’re right, it’s not great.

Everyone has a room which serves as a receptacle for rubbish/ dry stores/ etc. Mine is next to the kitchen, and in general the door stays closed.

I went one afternoon to simply clean the windows as I had banned myself from Netflix until sun down, which in hindsight was a bloody stoopid idea as it was around the time of daylight savings and the days are getting longer and longer.

Anyway, in summary, this also escalated and I learnt how to use a vacuum cleaner.

Please don’t ask where all of the clutter from the room went.

BURMESE STUDY

Somewhere around this time, i hit a wall…. I am pretty sure it can be traced back to missing Myanmar and the other half of my life. Perennially at this time if the year I am posting from an airport somewhere about how hilarious those Germans are when boarding a plane (I call the flight from Frankfurt to Bangkok the “Sex Tourist Express”).

But alas, not this year, but I decided that this was not an excuse to become lax with my studies. Luckily enough, when I hit the wall it was not a physical thing, so I actually had a wall spare. Why wouldn’t I build a map of my Burmese study on it? It was the only logical solution.

A work in progress.

And then the restrictions ended

First came family

It was a little confronting when the restrictions started lifting as I had become quite accustomed to my one man circus. When a sleepover with my nephew and niece was proposed, I am not sure who was more excited:: them or my sister…. Let’s call it a draw.

So the little munchkins were my first guests since March, and they were highly demanding: I don’t think that I would have received more than three stars from them on Air BnB as I had no soap and shower gel to offer them, then the stir fry got sent back as it had green stuff in it, and finally the bed were not deemed comfortable and the only remedy for this was to come and sleep in with Aunty Tashie.

The next day, I had another friend over with her two munchkins, and cheesy toast got sent back.

I think in the future that I will continue to host guests with a different vintage.: they are slightly easier to give schnapps to.

Apple Blossoms and Prosecco

My initial company after the lift of restrictions was definitely a G-rated affair full of bedtime stories, leopard print onesies and declarations of love.

Actually the garden party a few days later was not entirely dissimilar, but through a different lens. It all began in a civilised manner, with glass tinkling and flower arrangements. It’s all hear-say from there, but at some point, we may or may not have been dancing in the kitchen to “Proud Mary” when my neighbour joined in with jiving from his balcony and offered us table dancing jobs next season.

Venturing out into the real world

Whilst I am doing my very best to maintain a positive demeanour, there is no denying that this loss basic freedoms has taken a toll, which is why yesterday i jumped at the opportunity to take a day trip to Innsbruck, just over an hour away.

I am not sure what I expected from the “new” real world, but for a place I ´have been a million times it certainly seemed fresh and new.

Ca-Tash-Trophy (Pettneu, Day 9)

I feel like such an asshole.

Seriously, if you knew a shit storm (no toilet paper panic buying pun intended) that would effect most people in the world was on the way, where would you choose to be holed up?

Sure, a self sufficient tropical island would be up there, but frankly, my current situation is preferable. Perhaps this should be called, “Greetings from my White Privilege Summer Camp”.

I am currently under lockdown in a small village called Pettneu in the Austrian Alps, just outside of St Anton am Arlberg. I am not sure of the population here, but definitely not large enough to constitute panic buying:

On Friday the 13th (no you can’t make that up), the ski season came to a very abrupt halt. I hear that it was mayhem and panic: must have been frightening for them. For the last nine days I have watched it all unfold from the comfort of the kitchen whilst eating delicious Tirolean meats and cheeses.

Rather than trying to articulate in a coherent story, I am just going to go ahead and outline why I am not freaking the out in point form (and there may be an insinuation that if I was freaking out that would be overly indulgent, considering that basically everyone but me has every right to freak the out).

THE TIROLEAN GOVERNMENT MOVED EFFICIENTLY

So I am going to try my best to avoid profanities from here on in (just for sport as there is none of that to watch either). Basically, the Tirolean Government articulated perfectly the severity of the situation, and there was no more messing around.

There has been precise and articulate communication on a daily basis, and any queries answered down to the intricate nuances of social distancing (I just wish i had a dog).

I hope that I have understood all the information correctly as google translate is not always 100%. On the upside, when I sent the illegal workers from my basement out into the cold of the night they never came back.

I didn’t have to go anywhere

I was already “home” when the storm rolled in, and for the last 9 days I have watched everyone’s lives been thrown into turmoil. Scrambles to get home, life savings gone just to do so and basic uncertainty. Tirol is totally tourism based, so there are many seasonal workers who are wither stuck, broke or both. The enormity and impact on everyone’s lives is unfathomable. Luckily for me, my only immediate family is holed up in St Anton baking bread. Totally unrelated, I have been thinking about divorce statistics when all of this is over.

I live in a small village with nice neighbours

I am out of the hub of St Anton, which has been under different conditions to us. In St Anton, there are tourists and workers under quarantine, and when these conditions change to match the rest of Tirol there will be many people trying to work out a way to get home and cross borders.

Here, I have accepted my solitude with open arms. To be honest, normally in May it is this quiet, and well, after 10 Winter seasons I hate people by March anyway. My neighbour feels the same: says he’s got schnapps and peace and quiet: life’s basic essentials. I concur.

Ah, the serenity.

The neighbours on the other side of me alleviate the need for a TV… A borderline geriatric brother and sister whose simple affectionate morning greeting makes it sound like World War III is beginning. Yes. I see the irony.

Adding to this, his balcony is opposite my back kitchen window, so we greet each other when out smoking. Double bonus: he has an epic porn collection, so I can watch too from my kitchen window 20 meters away whilst adhering to social distancing specifications (I don’t think he knows it’s a “Watch Party” though).

No Panic Buying

Normally at this time of the year I have no problem with the word “panic” as it is “Panic Shag” time and that my friends, is a real local pandemic: there is none of that this year in Pettneu.

Frankly, there is no panic anywhere, so it is with disdain and slight amusement that i observe Muppets and Muggles of the world go bonkers for toilet paper and hand sanitiser.

If there is any panic buying at all in this town it would be, as a friend Andrew pointed out, the supermarket panic stocking toilet paper. My daily outing to the supermarket involves hand sanitiser, friendly greetings, and total appreciation for the front line warriors.

Yes, we tip them and give them flowers instead of hurling profanities at them.

Almost TeeTotalling Tash

For that last year or so I have been transitioning from being a booze soaked cougar to, well, um, something different (a work in progress). Rather than practicing mindfulness I have been practicing awesomeness, and hitting the gym, not the bottle.

I have let my evil twin off the bus on a few occasions, but last time i saw her was somewhere in Innsbruck, and, well, considering that was most likely the route that Covid 19 took from Italy to Austria, I am guessing that that the beer swilling, nail biting, chain smoking version of me was in the path of destruction.

She did make a special guest appearance for the first few days of this Apocalypse, but as she does not hold an Austrian passport I sent her out into the dark to fend for herself.

Channeling Sporty Spice

So, last year in Winter I guzzled and gulped in ginormous proportions , which left me with a glutinous grimace. Yep, I achieved the trifecta of muffin top, camel toe and VPL. I took drastic and strict measures after the season to change that, and dropped 10kg through kickboxing.

I was feeling so fit when I came back that i decided to start training for the Weisse Rausch: a kamikaze ski race boasting a mix of balls, craziness and endurance. You know, bucket list thing. So all season, I have been eating healthily, going to the gym and skiing at every available opportunity.

I thought I was training for a ski race, not the apocalypse, but hey whatever gets you out in the backyard doing squats and lunges with 2 cans of home brand baked beans.

“Plank this” is what I like to say to the pandemic.

So in summary…

I’m a closet introvert.

Who would have thunk it?