Once bitten, forever Schmitten

Wow. Today's blog had to start with that word. It started at breakfast with the usual words of wisdom from our Gertrude. We told her that we intended to go up the nearby mountain, called Schmitten Hohe. Ah, she said, today you will find a thousand line dancers at the top.

We thought either Gertrude's pretty good command of the English language was letting her down or this was going to be some spectacle.

After breakfast we donned our walking boots and filled the rucksack with clothes to deal with the drop in temperature and walked into Zell am See. It was so ludicrously easy. A big notice at the cable car station said don't bother to queue if you have a voucher, just get straight on. There was no queue, so we got straight on. I was mildly surprised that there was no hint of a line dancer when there were supposed to be a thousand up there, but I decided that there was a logical explanation for this. There was. We took the wrong cable car. This one finished a quarter of the way up the mountain, if that. And to one side. We were almost the only ones deposited on the mountain at this point. There was a sign which pointed to Schmitten Hohe, so we took it. It was steep, long and tough going. It took us over two hours and Zell am See became a lot smaller as we climbed.

Eventually, we saw a building perched right on the summit. Later still, and we could hear music. We continued to climb until we reached the cable car station that all the sensible people had used to go to the summit. A few hundred feet later and we were there.

What a spectacle! There, on the space at the top of the mountain, were 1,000 line dancers. All line dancing together to well amplified Country and Western music. Everyone wore a stetson, jeans, and high heeled boots. They wore matching tops, depending on their group. There must have been fifty groups or more. It was the most extraordinary sight. Most dancers were on the main 'stage' but some were off to one side, perhaps resting or queueing for a drink but they kept doing the moves. It reminded me of that scene in The Full Monty, where all those guys are in a queue somewhere and 'their' music comes over the speaker and they're all off, practising their sequences.

As if that wasn't enough, thirty yards away, there was a whole bunch of people leaping off the cliff to the left. It should be added that they had strapped themselves to hang gliders first... It too, was an amazing spectacle. We didn't know which way to turn first.

When we had closely watched and thrilled at the people jumping into thin air, we climbed up and looked down on the line dancers. Apparently this happens every year on the longest day.

I hope the videos come out because it was a sight to behold.

When we could take no more, we walked down a path to a stunning café. Or rather, a café with a stunning view.

There was a hen party there. This could have been reason not to stay in the UK, but these girls were just having a great time without involving loads of alcohol.

Instead, their celebrations involved the eating of wave after wave of Schnitzel.

Shortly later, a newly wed couple arrived too. I think they got married at the summit. As they walked on to the terrace, everyone there clapped and cheered. There was such a feeling of bonhommie.

Eventually, after taking about fifty photos of the stunning views, it was time to come down. It was also time for 1,000 line dancers to come down. We all queued up at the cable car station but actually the queue moved quickly. When we went through the turnstile to get on to the cable car, suddenly, three lines dancers rushed in front of us to get into the car first. I was intrigued that people who's lives are governed by lines, seemed incapable of transferring this concept to a line for a cable car but I guess it's just a whole 'nother kinda line...

Arriving at the bottom of this cable car meant taking a bus back to Zell am See (which is why we got the wrong one in the first place)

There was one of those long 'bendibuses' waiting. Great, we thought, let's jump on. After all, we've got our vouchers.

We were quite amused to note that we were literally the only people in the bus not wearing stetsons. Kate remarked that she noticed that the front of the bus said Salzburg. Oh dear, she laughed, I hope we haven't got on a special line dancers bus!

The bus did stop in Zell, for about a second. By the time we had fought through all the stetsons, it was too late. The bus was off. It didn't stop again for at least ten miles. It didn't matter how many times we pushed the stop button. It turned out that we were on a special line dancers bus...

Eventually, we disembarked.

Crumbs, I said, we're in the middle of nowhere. Then, just as I said it, I recognised the nowhere. It was a nowhere that we had cycled through! It didn't really help, but somehow it was comforting to find ourselves in a nowhere that we knew.

Kate had explained our plight to a line dancer who she sat next to on the bus. Fortunately, this was a line dancer with a pretty good command of the English language. She told us where to go, to get a service bus back to Zell am See. Just as she asserted, there was a bus stop with a bus due in nine minutes. Nine minutes later, the bus picked us up and we eventually arrived back at the town we so narrowly missed, Zell am See.

We walked back through sticky, humid heat and lunged for the kettle as soon as we arrived back. Well, I did. Kate had a cold shower. As if the last few hours haven't been tough enough!

But then my attention turned towards food. I had already planned for pizza this evening, as opposed to schnitzel. I Googled pizza, found a place just down the road with a good rep. and off we went.

I should explain explain at this point that Zell am See has become something of an Arab enclave. Austria did a massive push to attract people from the middle east in 2003, and the population both of resident and holidaying people from this region has exploded. To be honest, the Austrian vibe has completely disappeared ftom this attractive little town. Most women wear hijabs and the town is choc full of halal meat shops and Eastern food shops.

Anyway, back to the pizza...

I turned down a little street in the middle of town and a smart Arab gentleman came to the car to speak to me. I thought I was about to be told off for driving into private property. When I told him I was after a takeaway pizza, he said follow me, sir. He ushered me to a parking space. He then ushered us both down a smart corridor as we thought, 'How much is this pizza going to cost?!' We went through into a large hushed room. There was a mock fire roaring away on one wall. Perfect in 30 something degrees. There was also a huge screen showing a football game. We were shown to two comfy chairs, then immediately, a woman came over with the most expensively bound menus I have ever seen. We opened them with trepidation. To be fair, the pizzas weren't that expensive. A few euros more than most places, of course. The lady stood by attentively until I had made my choice. (Kate is doing Miso soup instead😬)

When I made my order, I went to the counter to pay. The lady came alongside me and asked if I would like something spicy on the side? When I eventually ascertained that she was referring to a sauce for my pizza, I told her I would give it a try. The looks of faint surprise, mingled with admiration from the male waiters made me wonder exactly how hot this spicy sauce was going to be...

I have now eaten half the pizza. It was very good. The other half will do for lunch tomorrow. I did try the sauce. I discovered that if mixed with the pizza at about one part sauce to a million parts pizza, it was really rather nice.

I think the only thing to do after after all that, is have another cup of tea.