[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Innsbruck, Part 1

DAY 26 - SEPTEMBER 25, 2000
INNSBRUCK, AUSTRIA
INNSBRUCK - HOLIDAY INN
ROOM 1101

As promised by the call sheet, today the morning's activities were to start at the scandalously late hour of 1000H, thus allowing people a chance for a *long* lie-in. Still, the occupants of 1101 decided to wake up at the accustomed hour - prompted by the beautiful sunshine filtering through the window. I greeted the morning with a round of intercession and a series of praise songs - to be richly rewarded by a palette of rose and gold and mountains with early snow to look at as the sun came up. Beautiful!

After an early breakfast, Ma and I decided that it was too beautiful a morning to be wasted by dawdling in the room till 1000H. So off we went, to run into Lisa in the hallway as she in her turn popped out of her room. We hugged her and fussed over her, and she had laughingly explained that it had been her intention to sleep in, but the morning had proved just as irresistible to her as to us. So she had had her room service breakfast sent up earlier than ordered, and having just finished that, joined us in the elevator for the trip to the lobby. She was heading to the moneychangers, and we followed suit, changing USD 100.00 into schillings for our pocket money. Perfect weather today, crisp and bright, with the promise of summer warmth later on. Ma and Dad and I took a slow stroll around the mini-mall that houses the money exchange, and there's a gorgeous bedroom display in one of the windows - a lace beadspread and lace-edged pillowcases to die for, all in cream and white.

Dmitri and I exchanged our regular banter as we piled into the bus this morning -- the man looks very well-rested indeed as he should be. After LisaH's head count, we were off on our way to Igls, where the Olympic downhill ski championship took place during a Winter Olympics back in 197-something. The odd thing about the ski jump is the view -- one gets a clear view of the Igls church -- *and* the church cemetery. Obviously a very unnerving sight for anyone flying through the air at extreme speed! Solution : cover the cemetery with camoflauge netting, thereby creating the illusion of empty space. We were told about how superstitious skiers are, how they would prefer to hike all the way up to the jump-off rather than use the ski lift, because of the belief that one will come down the same way one went up. Walk up, you'll walk down. Ride up, and you'll ride down - possibly in an ambulance!

The church was stunning, with the bright sunshine pouring in through every available window and making the gilding sparkle. Considering the amount of gold used to trim this church, that was certainly a *lot* of sparkle. Perfect photographer's weather, everything stood out so sharp and clear!

We had a moment of utter levity as I assumed the role of press photographer and asked everyone with a Bavarian hat on to get together for one shot. Of course, I just had to have Barry in there with Greg, Dad, Brian and Rob -- even if Barry's hat was at total odds with all the Bavarian ones, it was still a hat. Much laughter and cheering as two pictures were taken of Team Insight Tigers, and I was fairly bouncing with satisfaction on my way back to the bus.

From Igls, we were taken to the starting point for our horse-and-buggy ride through the Tyrolean countryside. Lisa had bought some schnapps to keep us going on the tour, and under someone's liberal custody, the drink was poured into plastic cups and passed around. Which of course meant that folks were getting pretty merry and we hadn't even started yet!

As we piled into the waiting carriages, Dmitri decided to stretch his legs and moved up to pet the horses -- he must like them, since he ran his hand over their muzzles as though he's used to them, and the horses appeared to enjoy it. Dad handed over his schnapps to Dmitri, who hammed it up for the benefit of those in the other carriage -- pretending to take a long swig and then staggering around as if inebriated to the nth degree. Just before we finally got underway, LisaH came dashing out of the bus -- her mom had called to announce that Cathy Freeman, the Australian aboriginal 400m track star, had won in that event. News that got all the Aussies cheering, and a good way to get us on the right track.

Our carriage driver was a real character, full of interesting anecdotes delivered in a heavy German accent; every so often he would burst out into yodeling and these were delivered in an excellent tenor voice. The people were really nice along the route, waving and smiling and greeting us, even the cars that had been held up by our slow progress on the main road. Our first stop was a lovely little church with a pink-and-white facade. Like the town church in Igls, this one was gilt and white paint combined with darkly-stained wood, and sunshine everywhere to complete the scene. The hushed silence was a perfect backdrop to the elegance of the church -- and even when we emerged into the courtyad to get back into the carriages, it was amazing to be aware of how quiet this countryside really was.

We took a side road through a little village filled with colorful houses and saw a line of children on their way to school. Such darlings! All pink-cheeked and neat, shy smiles and waving back at us. then the road took us past some mountain foothills and all you could see till the top were trees -- all kinds of pines, some maples turning gold, spruce or birch, maybe, with white trunks flashing in the distance. The wind shifted and blew the scent of pine down towards us, and it was good to feel the mountain chill against my flushed cheeks.

Our driver pulled up to give us a view of the little town where we would have our "intermission" drinks. Another carriage bearing a load of French tourists pulled up behind us, and our carriage driver switched places with the other driver and began regaling his new charges with yodeling and anecdotes delivered in French. So we continued into the little town ("population 120 and 60 cows"), got down at the top of a path leading down to a farmhouse, were invited inside and told to settle ourselves in among two trestle tables. It was a tight fit, and some of the group found themselves tucked into odd corners, like Rob McMillan and Anthony Parisi. For an awful moment we thought Anna Parisi wouldn't be able to squeeze in -- but with some strategic shifting of baggage, we managed to make the necessary room. Not without a few misgivings from Marlyn, who thought perhaps Anthony might be miffed with her because she had sat in the empty space originally meant for Anna. For a little bit it seemed as though Tony and Anna were about to have a minor tiff -- but the moment soon blew over as everyone packed themselves like the proverbial sardines. Our choice of drinks lay between hot chocolate, coffee, soft drinks, beer and schnapps. Our Tigers went straight for the beer, it was a foregone conclusion. Others took hot chocolate or wine -- most folks passed on the schnapps, didn't see much of it on our table. it didn't take too long before we were all making merry in a way that had the French-speaking group somewhat overwhelmed with our volume.

Our buggy driver turned out to be the chief source of entertainment for this portion of the optional! Stationing himself behind a podium, he produced an electronic keyboard and proceeded to regale us with a wide assortment of Tyrolean folksongs, complete with yodeling. Very infectious music, really. One man from the other group got up and started dancing all on his own right there in the middle of the floor! And at one point, Marge asked Ma if Dad could dance, and when Ma said yes, dragged Dad up for a very spirited polka! Rob was asked to take a turn around the floor as well -- and Brian, too!

Then our driver-cum-emcee/entertainer engineered a bit of audience participation, this time with the females of the party. He set them up as the "kitchen orchestra". To Julie he gave an old-fashioned scrubbing board; Franca a blown-up trash bag; Rhonda a tin cup and a spoon; and Marge was called in too but I can't recall what "instrument she was supposed to be playing. Under the leadership of our buggy driver, the kitchen quartet managed to churn out a creditable percussion accompaniment. (Oh, yes, now I remember -- Marge was supposed to play a cheese grater.) It had to be accompaniment, there wasn't a single melody instrument to be found among all the objects they were holding.

As the program drew to a close, we were given the standard thank-you and sales pitch for a collection of souvenir items : mainly pins and postcards. Dad bought a pin for his alpine cap and I got one for my beret, plus a few postcards.

/...to be continued