We awoke and ate breakfast; orange juice, ham, cheese, toast, and cereal. I went upstairs and suited up, layer after layer after layer. The anticipation built after every article of clothing I slipped on, until I was fully dressed and almost sweating sitting inside our tiny little room. We went back downstairs towards the front desk to grab another map of the enormous mountain and ask which slopes the man thought to be best. We narrowed it down to 2 different regions of the mountain, Axamer Lizum and Kuhtai, which were among the best priced, best runs, and highest elevation. After asking numerous questions, the hostel clerk informed us that there was a free ski-bus that departs from the hostel in 5 to 10 minutes, and would shuttle us around to all the different bases of the mountain, from which we would be able to ascend and purchase the appropriate equipment and, at last, ski. So we headed outside, where we saw numerous other people waiting in the bitter cold, suited up from head to toe in hundreds of dollars [or should I say Euros] of top of the line gear. We sat on a bench as I felt a little jealous in my long-johns and khakis, without any boots or skis to show off; however, I still had my snowboarding jacket and gloves and Camelbak [courtesy of my sister Kelly], so I didn't feel like a complete Rookie. The bus pulled up and we jumped on board, sitting in one of the first few rows. As it became fully saturated with what felt like hundreds of people in winter attire, we realized we were definitely the only ones who spoke English [except for when the driver turned on the radio and everyone persisted to sing Outkasts' "Sorry Ms. Jackson, Oooh. I am fo reeeal"]. It wasn't until we passed the 3rd of 4th "designated" free stops that I began to wonder..."Hmm...maybe my awkward feeling of being out of place isn't simply due to being in a foreign country...perhaps we reallywere on the wrong bus..." Berta and I shared a few concerned looks at first, but then realized that clearly whatever bus we are on it is going somewhere up a mountain to a lot of fresh snow that is ski-worthy; so what was to worry about? Coincidentally the bus wound up pulling into Axamer Lizum, one of our 2 choices! We stepped down from the bus, shrugging off the worry of how exactly we would be getting back after skiing, and proceeded to purchase our lift tickets and rentals. The time had finally come [once Berta got done taking forever to rent ski-pants because she was a wuss] to ascend the massive ski lifts to the top of the Austrian Alps, where I could prove to all the locals that you didn't necessarily need to look the part to play the part [who said thin casual pants couldn't be worn to ski the Alps??]. The snow was perfect. Fresh powder from top to bottom, both on and off the trails. I couldn't even believe that I had called what I had done in the past, at Indiana's "Perfect North Ski Slopes", skiing. The runs took what seemed like an eternity to descend, instead of the 10 or 15 seconds I was used to. Not only was the skiing phenomenal, but the views. Oh the views. I thought I had asthma, my breath was taken away so many times. The first time my jaw honestly dropped is when I rode the ski lift alone to the summit of the mountain [Berta did not feel she was experienced enough to ski those particular runs]. On the way up there was the stillest, most calm quiet I had, and probably ever will, experienced. I floated over 100 ft ravines, covered in feet of snow with jagged rock points poking out here and there. It was the most peaceful moment I had witnessed; and then I rose over the crest of the hill to the top of the lift and mountain....No words can explain the sensation that came over me. My mouth dropped open and I simply stared in awe for what felt like hours. I was even with the clouds, looking at panoramic views that I had only seen on postcards. After a while I felt as if I had made Berta wait long enough down at the bottom by herself, so I headed down the steep edges of the mountain with my mind still blown. The rest of the day went on like that, and I had the time of my life until, finally, I was forced to come back to reality and head back to the hostel. Although we had to check out of our room earlier that day, we quietly slipped into the hostel to use the kitchen in order to eat dinner. After prolonging that activity as long as we could, we made way to the train station where we would sit from 9pm to 4am [in order to avoid paying another nights fee staying at the hostel] to catch our train to Interlaken, Switzerland. So there we sat, in a tiny heated waiting room for 7 hours surrounded by bums and a runaway 'punk rocking' kid [most likely fleeing home with an 'I'll show them'mentality] waiting for our ride. The clock finally struck 4am and we boarded, only to find that all the sleeper cars were full, as well as the seats, so we had no option but to stand for quite some time, until people left the train and we snagged the last sleeper car there was for the last 2 hours of our travels to Interlaken, where we ready for some extreme sporting...
Ahh, Innsbruck, Austria...where do I start?
On the train ride there, I could immediately gather a feeling for the style and culture of living for Austrians (which is one that I adore). I continually saw smaller clusters of houses placed on large plots of land, nestled into the hillsides of the Alps; a sight that is sure to take even the most experienced traveler's breath away. Even better was the town of Innsbruck. It was the most quaint town, despite its partially larger size, that sat at the foot of some of the most beautiful parts of the Alps. It had one style of architecture throughout 90-95% of the city that emitted the most peaceful, historical, cultural, and 'cozy' ambience that I have ever been surrounded by. We ambled through the little cobble stone alleyways, passing all sorts of stores; old mom and pop toy stores, shoes, snow apparel, modern/chic clothing, pizza shops and many more. We found our hostel, after re-checking the map a few times, and I instantly was awestruck. We checked in at the pastry cafe that the owners also owned at street level and were then led through the old wooden doorway, up several flights of aged, natural stairs and into our room which contained 4 beds and a cozy table that sat by a bay window. The view looked down upon one of the alleys that pierced through the many 5 or 6 story edifices, where we could see tourists and locals alike, walking and holding hands. After we settled in a little bit it was still early enough for us to have time to head out and see what else Innsbruck had to offer at nighttime. As we walked we snapped picture after picture, falling victim to the breath-taking Alpine background that was partially covered by the quaint foreground of antique buildings. It wasn't until we saw the largest pieces of pizza we had ever seen that we realized how hungry we were. Now yes, I was aware that I didn't travel to Austria to have pizza, but we simply just couldn't resist trying these humongous slices. I felt a little complimented as I walked through the doorway into the pizza shop that couldn't have been more than 200 sq ft because the Native owner asked, "Italian??" I responded, "No, no. American," as he chuckled a little to his self and I couldn't help but to join in. I indulged fully into the pizza slices, finishing every last bite and then headed back out after thanking the generous man and wife for the meal. We zig-zagged past more stores and bakeries until we found a bunch of booths, containing food, drinks, toys, and souvenirs. It was pretty brisk out, and we couldn't help but to notice everyone walking by with little steaming ceramic mugs that were painted with the local language. We figured out where they were coming from and bought some "Punsch mit Amaretto" to help warm us up. Then, after looking at some maps and brochures pertaining to tomorrows activities, we went back to our hostel for the night, where we met 2 guys from Maine who were also traveling around Europe. We decided that it would be better to relax a little for the day after our arrival rather than skiing right away, so we chose to visit Zaha Hadid's design, the 'Bergisel' (courtesy of my wishes). Because Innsbruck housed the Olympics twice, in the 60's and 70's, this was constructed and renovated to serve as the venue for the long jump skiiers, men who were surely out of their minds (if you see some of my pictures you will realize why). Another plus to seeing the design was also the views that it offered when standing atop it. Words cannot describe. And that is precisely why I took almost 200 pictures. Because the hostel we had for the first night was booked already for the second night we had to return to the city and check into another hostel, one that also had good reviews. As we checked in we flooded the receptionist with questions about skiing for tomorrow. Lucky for us, he spoke very good English and was extremely helpful with all the details we needed. We went back to our room to relax after all the walking of the day and to get things prepared to make dinner in the hostel's kitchen. As we entered the room we met a cute Finnish girl who had all her belongings strewn about, looking for her key. We talked for a little and she headed out as we went down the the crowded kitchen to eat. I was absolutely starving and excited to make and eat the €3,86 meal Berta and I had gotten together at the supermarket...Pasta and Zucchini with Parmesan; however, due to the language barrier I did not exactly get to enjoy it. The sad thing is, I still couldn't tell you what the German words for Cooking Oil and Vinegar are...but I know they're not the same. I realized this as my nostrils flared up in disgust after smelling what Berta had poured into the zucchini's skillet, THINKING that it was oil. Nonetheless, I ate what I could (after we had rinsed it off with water and added a random assortment of whatever else we could find) until I had no appetite anymore, and went to bed..stoked for finally being able to ski in the Alps. |
authorMy reflections of backpacking through Europe prior to studying abroad in Florence, Italy. archivescategories |