Brenner Pass in sunshine.
Traffic jam and heavy rain at the German border
It was dusk at this time and with the low lying clouds and the rain, the road to Oberaudorf was surreal in its beauty. It wound up, down, and around small hills, through trees and fields, and small hamlets. The rain continued to fall as we arrived in Oberaudorf and the first sight that greeted us was an old Bavarian man, pushing an equally ancient bicycle, dressed in traditional leather knickers which were filthy. Arlette was in heaven and proudly pointed out this gentleman as proof that the Bavarians are the acme of western civilization. What crusty leather pants have to do with man’s ascendance from savagery I have no idea. But, Arlette is one of the most brilliant persons I have ever known, if not a little whacko (being whacko must be a genetic trait in my family so my kids and friends would tell me. Except my kids would say that it stops with me since they are obviously superior to me in every way. Punk kids.), so I will take her word for it.
We arrived as it was getting dark and tried to find a hotel with a couple of rooms. There was a typical hotel/restaurant next to the church in the center of town and we made that our first stop. We were disappointed to find out that all the rooms in the town were taken up by people from Munich. My guess is that they were escaping the madness of Oktoberfest. There was one hotel left that had rooms, but it was the one that the other hotels sneered at. It was actually quite nice and inexpensive. It just didn’t have the ambiance of the others. I think that the local distaste for our hotel was that it was plain, simple, and inexpensive compared to the others that were trying very hard to provide that real “Bavarian” experience that Arlette was looking so forward to. All I can say is “Viva la Revolucion!”
We ate at the Alpen Rose restaurant across the street from the hotel and the meal was okay but not spectacular. Arlette soon realized that she was the only person besides the server dressed in a Bavarian fashion. I feel a little bad for her because I think she is slowly realizing that her world is no longer in existence. She remembers things as they were before 1968 when social revolutions started to change the face of Europe. The typical greeting in Bavaria is “Grüße Gott” But aside from the hostess greeting us that way, the Germans we met entering any restaurant or place of business never said that to us (The one exception was a very old lady at a gas station who was definitely “old school”). Unlike in Austria, but I will get to that later.The Alpen Rose with church behind.
Visitor's Bureau guaranteeing the true local experience. Notice the McDonalds sign.
The local bank
We left Oberaudorf to low lying clouds and rain and headed up the road to Salzburg, Austria.
Here's Arlette proving her street cred by flashing a gang sign in front of the house where Mozart lived.
Next time, “Wallgau. Where the inhabitants make the French look like St Francis of Assisi.”