The sound of music in Salzburg

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I woke up to hear blackbirds. Walking from our very friendly and useful hotel (first night stop) into the city centre to our self-catering apartment, we were pulling our cases along the wonderfully named Paracelsusstrasse.... past the tangles of trolley-bus wires overhead, past the regularly seated beggars (every 50 yards), watching the street-cleaning going on, getting money from a huge bank, working our way down through the smart shops to the entrance to Steingasse. That means Stone Lane, and it's an ancient riverside road, once the main thoroughfare, and now a tiny cobbled steep narrow deep canyon between huge old houses which batter backwards to let light in. 

Having established ourselves, we went out into the city – to admire the bridges over the swift river Salzach (I wonder if that's Salz (salt) + Aa (early river name, as in N France).....

We had a late breakfast in a small cafe and met a Scottish couple who were here to ski – the inclement weather had brought them into the town but they recommended going up to St Johann and then up to the gondola to see the snow. He is an implant dentist, she works with him. They looked radiantly healthy.

We wandered about. The funicular up to the massive fortress costs €19 each and includes a compulsory payment to go into the castle... no way to just go up and down. We heard a few people asking for that (like us) and being baffled. The amber on sale next door is eye-wateringly expensive - €100 for a tiny thin necklace, €8000 for a bracelet.

Dublin is famous for its doors, but Salzburg loves its doors too... some are ancient, some are just wonderful.

  

Into the Dom (cathedral) to be met by a barking woman who makes sure that men take their hats off, says she was born in Bedford, and can't understand why Brexit is going ahead. The cathedral is one of the most depressing and migraine-inducing places I have ever been – a colossal monument to vanity and aggrandisement, with every surface covered in indifferent works of art – carvings, paintings, scrolls, brackets, admonishments, and clutter. It is all about pomp and grandeur, nothing remotely to do with Christianity. I hated it. 

  

The only thing I liked in there was the modest little staircase leading up to an organ console (one of 4) at the south side of the chancel or apse. 

 

The dom is part of a palace belonging to successive generations of archbishop-princes – rather like Durham.

Outside the streets are thronged with groups of foreign students and school children – Chinese, Japanese, French, German... The shops are full of luxury goods (Steiff bears up to €20,000 I guess), dirndls and lederhosen, gleaming trainers, jewellery, handbags. Nearly everyone we meet speaks good English. Nearly everyone raises Brexit, shake their heads.

We called into the Tourist Info, walked up towards the schloss, saw the distant snow-capped mountains, had a hot chocolate in a very smart place near the university (converted motor-works), and then eventually back again to the apartment – about 7 miles walk and very gentle. We cooked our supper of Kaspressknudln and Sauerkraut (bought from a deli near the uni), and crashed out.

The wonderful thing is that although the whole thriving tourist industry here rests on two great artistic events: the life and works of Mozart, and the ever-youthful movie The Sound of Music, for both of which you can go on full day tours or more, the really wonderful sound of the city at this moment is the song of blackbirds. When I heard that first one in the morning I did not realise that that is the real sound of music in Salzburg.  They are everywhere: on the towering rocky cliffs on either side of the river, in the gardens and parks, squabbling in the trees, on the rooftops, everywhere. And they are singing. From before dawn to after dusk. Exquisite.