Sometimes, however, I feel a curious indifference to whether my roommates wake up when I leave at 7.00. Sometimes I find myself wishing that I had a foghorn or some other means of ensuring that their wake-up is as unpleasant as mine was when they came in all slamming doors, turning on lights, laughing, and shouting three hours earlier.
I have said it before, but I will say it again, and this time I mean it: I am totally over hostels.
Despite the lack of sleep, I set out bright and early for Werfen on Saturday morning. The plan was to see Honenwerfen, hike, not get lost, and perhaps see the ice caves if I could find them. Hohenwerfen was built bit by bit over the course of about 600 years. Part of it burned down in 1931 and was subsequently rebuilt. Your entrance ticket today gets you a guided tour, admissions to the grounds and museum, and a seat at the falconry show. The latter was pretty awesome even though I didn't understand a word of what they were saying. They brought out, among other creatures with large wingspans, a bald eagle. Instead of following instructions and flying where they wanted him too, he took off for the back end of the castle and it was several minutes before they could get him back. Sneaky devil. From the look on his trainer's face as he carried the birdbrain back inside, I had a feeling someone was on his way to the time-out chair.
Sunday was my day to see everything in Salzburg that I had not yet seen. I started with a walk in the Kapuzinerberg, along the old city walls. There was a Sunday market on the Salzach that I stopped to see next, and then it was on to Mozart's Geburtshaus, some churches, and Nonnberg Convent (another Sound of Music filming site).
Apparently there is a random privately-owned train that comes through sometimes, sneaking extra ticket fares off of ignorant tourists. The ticket agent who said sorry, you can get out at the next station and switch trains but I still have to charge you for a ticket, and no, your train discount card is no good with us, also said that confused backpackers end up on that train all the time. Because yes, it would hurt to put up a sign and make the announcement (in English) before the train doors have closed.
My sixth country of residence, and I continue to land myself in dodgy hostels and get on the wrong train. Clearly, I still have much to learn.