The Sound of Salzburg

The Sound of Salzburg

Wicker chairs that were spray-painted gold rested in rows of four, adorned with scarlet red seat cushions that tied into bows in the corners. The legs of the chairs nestled into the grooves in the grey cobblestone floor as bright squares of primary-colored artwork splashed across the white walls. Window-less lanterns hung sparsely from the ceiling with just enough light cascading down onto the black and gold harpsichord.

The small room in the former archbishop´s residence was the current resting place for just 10 people, all of whom waited in silence for the concert to begin. After a sachertorte and a latte macchiato at a nearby cafe, I had trouble keeping my foot still, yet the intermittent rain outside the door made me feel sleepy.

A German couple across the room nervously checked their watches as the time ticked one minute past the advertised starting time of 3 o´clock. I think I would do well living in Germany. Do things on time, or don´t do them at all.

I closed my eyes and imagined the Salzburg of the 18th century, when Mozart was already gaining prestige as a young prodigy. When Austrians met at cafes for tortes and kaffe. When echoes of violins rang through the streets, providing a free concert for passersby.

Today, the roars of tours drown out any semblance of peace, but listen carefully and you can still hear the sound of music.

Dalmatian dew

Dalmatian dew

Berlin breaks through

Berlin breaks through