Mike's Salzburg Diary

From The Colonel's Website

Tuesday, 26th November

For the first time on the day prior to a Colonel's break, I received no e-mail from any of the regiment to inform me of their plans—so organised were we. However, here's a random message I received on that day:

This is to give very preliminary notice that the next (and special anniversary) UKMHD meeting will be held in Cambridge on 16 and 17 May 2003.

All that is necessary at this stage is to note the date in your diary, and to let us know if there is anyone who should be added/removed to/from the mailing list (which is as given in the 'To' field of this message and is also reproduced below).

We plan to have a combination of talks and posters, and will be allocating slots to various groups. At a later stage we will be asking for names of group coordinators.

Best wishes

Gill Newton Secretary to the AFD Group

Clearly such an e-mail was unlikely to get me in the mood for the forthcoming Colonel's break, as I was sat at my desk attempting to finish writing up my Ph.D. However, it set the tone for the rest of the day.

Steve was in town—as usual he'd been a wiley customer and organised a trip to see his cool Chemistry mates so he could claim expenses. He was also planning to go out with them in the evening so would be meeting us later.

Around lunchtime, I heard from Dave. He too was in town, but was planning to attend some sort of gig at the Boat Race. The evening meal would thus be attended by myself, Rupert, David and Chris.

At 5p.m., I made my way back to the land of St Regis to prepare myself for the trip. Shortly afterwards, Dave arrived. We had coffee and chatted about the prospects for the forthcoming holiday. We watched a quick Alan episode and waited patiently for the arrival of David and Rupert.

Moules arrived home a bit later. It seemed he had decided to go to work after all that day. He was attending a dancing lesson early on, but would join us in Chilis at the appropriate time.

At around 6.30p.m., I got a call from David—himself and Rupert had missed the train they were aiming for at King's Cross and would be late. Suited Moules, cos it meant he would get to the meal on time.

Dave and I left to pick up Rupert and David at around 8.00p.m. On route to the station, I dropped Dave off near the Boat Race. Rupert and David were already waiting for me at the station, which was handy, so I piled them into the car. At the station, I got a call from Steve. He had finished hanging out with his cool Chemistry mates and was ready to meet us for a trip to Chilis. On route back to Regis, we pulled off into Bateman street and picked Steve up, before heading off back to St Regis, where we were scheduled to meet Chris. Meet Chris we did—he was waiting there somewhat impatiently, as he was ready for his food. Not one to disappoint Chris where food is concerned, I hurried the others on and the four of us plus the Little Lucky Leprechaun left St Regis and walked to Chilis.

The meal was entertaining—we had the customary nachos and assorted burgers/fajitas for main course. However, we succeeded in leaving one of our number behind in the restaurant—no, it wasn't Chris finishing off his pudding, it was the Little Lucky Leprechaun. Fortunately our waitress was on the ball and she ran after us to reunite us with our mascot. That was a relief. We returned to St Regis and relaxed with coffee. I suggested it was time to bed down for the night, so Rupert and David elected to sleep in my room whilst Steve made for Chris' room. As I settled down to go to sleep one thought was echoing through my mind:

The Salzburg experience had started!

Wednesday, 27th November

I woke up at 7.00a.m. It was our aim to catch the train at 8.20a.m. so that we could get to Stansted in time for a bit of breakfast. Rupert and David were still asleep, so I forced myself to get up and went through the shower. I then reassured myself that Moules and Steve were up, before hastily checking I had all of the important stuff for the holiday. There was minimal dicking around and we all got ourselves ready for the trip. As the taxi arrived, I said, "I will put my coat on. And you will put your coat on" in a German officer's accent. The trip had officially started.

Dave was waiting patiently outside the station as we arrived. Whether he'd been walking around all night, as is his passion on the evening before a Colonel's break, we will never know. We got our tickets and collapsed on the train. David and I sang songs from the Sound of Music to get ourselves in the mood. Rupert was unimpressed, and took it as a sign of things to come.

Stansted was heaving as usual. We checked in. Fortunately we managed to not lose Moules this time. That was a pleasant relief. We blundered straight through passport control and searched out Garfunkels on the other side. Got straight in and were allocated two tables—myself, David and Steve positioned ourselves at a raised booth overlooking the rest of the restaurant. Dave, Rupert and Chris were alongside us, but seated at ground level. We ordered breakfast—continental for me and fatty cooked breakfasts for all of the others. After breakfast chat, Rupert disappeared off to do his customary whisky investigation. Didn't buy any though. Once this had been concluded, we proceeded to the gate and chilled out for a while. Having been given the first boarding numbers, presumably due to the time Chris would take to find his seat, we got on the plane very rapidly and grabbed ourselves an area. I spent the bulk of the flight immersed in the guidebook, in an effort to find some decent eating establishments for our holiday. In what seemed like no time at all, we began our descent into the Salzburg area. Mountains were visible on all sides. We were looking forward to bringing them alive with the sound of music later on. Upon landing, we decided to follow the masses and proceed to immigration and baggage reclaim. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Concluded quickly, we hailed a taxi. For some reason, Moules had decided he was the most proficient at speaking German, so he undertook vigorous negotiations with the taxi driver. Seemed to work, cos he took us to our hotel (passing Sheisse street on route). Rupert had already expressed concerns that our hotel would be poor, but it seemed (as I knew it would) that his concerns were unfounded. We stopped outside the Renaissance hotel, much to my delight, and I pointed out to Rupert how great it looked, much to his delight. We proceeded inside. Chris attempted to speak German. The receptionist attempted to speak English. She succeeded significantly more than Chris, so we spoke English. We helped ourselves to some free mini toblerones on the counter as we checked into our rooms. This done, we made for the room on the 2nd floor for the by now famous room ballot.

Ten minutes later myself, David and Dave left the room and made for our room on the third floor, leaving Chris, Steve and Rupert to make themselves comfortable in the other one.

We were eager to get started with our exploration so we departed the hotel and headed for the centre, which was a mile or two away. We began with the customary Alan recreations—the favourite of the moment appeared to be, "Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan". On route, we walked past the station, through a tunnel and we shortly arrived at some rather nice gardens. Steve spotted a statue of some naked people and checked it out. Further into this park, I was delighted to discover the famous steps upon which Julie Andrews and associated kids danced in the Sound of Music. We stopped for a quick couple of photos on the steps and then proceeded to the fountain (also featured in aforementioned film). Myself, Chris and David skipped around it, feeling somewhat childish. Further through the park, our excitement increased as we discovered the covered walkway also featured in the hit song "Doe Ray Me". We paused for an arty photo. Having satisfied my Sound of Music needs, we all left the rather attractive park and walked down to the river. We crossed it and walked into the old town (which had absolutely nothing to do with Gamla Stan). Rather pleasant, though. Time was ticking on and we only had time for a two minute stop at Mozart's birthplace. None of us were particularly excited about it anyway (except possibly Chris and Dave). More importantly, we were hungry. With this on our minds, we ambled into a little bakery place in a covered shopping arcade. We all put on our best Austrian accents and ordered chocolate croissants and cafe lattes (except Rupert who had some weird cake). Since Chris had recently hit his overdraft limit (as all his money was trapped in his off shore account) we were lending him money to put him on in Salzburg. There was some debate as to whether we should let Chris have a cake, but we eventually relented and bought him one. Moules then bought himself another—clearly he wasn't going to let his stomach suffer despite his financial woes.

Having sustained ourselves for a little bit longer, we left the establishment and blundered on into a market. I decided it was time to take the lead in German speaking, and I bought some sweet pretzels from a pretzel seller. Moules kindly helped me eat them (as did everyone else). Walking up an alley, we were delighted to discover the Rupertinum (an art gallery). Rupert kindly posed for a photo outside it. As if we hadn't discovered enough cool stuff already, just around the corner we blundered into the traditional Salzburg Christmas market. It was a complete beast—selling Christmas decorations, winter clothes, a wide assortment of Christmassy sweets and gifts, not to mention an apparently bottomless supply of pretzels and mulled wine (hereafter referred to as gluewein).

We browsed the Christmas market for a little while, then retreated into the core of the old town. We discovered a massive glass pyramid encasing some sort of fountain, which was very strange. Several alleyways later, Chris' eyes lit up as we discovered a skating rink. He was keen to have a go, but we decided it was rapidly approaching time to return to the hotel to prepare for dinner. We crossed over a bridge (which David and I noted was also featured in the Sound of Music) before turning back onto the waterfront and heading back to the hotel. We appeared to be walking on a cycle lane, and we suffered several close shaves before arriving back at the main shopping centre of Salzburg. On the way back to the hotel, we passed a restaurant that looked rather good. We decided we would check it out that very evening. Steve was keen to return to his role of waitress liaison—a position he prided himself on. Closer to the hotel, we spotted a traffic cone on the glass awning above a shop. We decided this was not a suitable cone for shouting "Stop telling me what to do" so we ignored it. However, we were a little perturbed because we had failed to find any traffic cones so far.

Dave made for the station to find train times for our third day excursion, whilst the rest of us returned to the hotel. David, Chris and I decided to check out the fitness suite and swimming pool area. Very nice—we had a pleasant hour relaxing in the pool. At one point, I suggested we all go for a sauna. Chris and David said they would be up for it so I made for the sauna room. Little did I know that the Austrian custom was to go for naked saunas—I returned to the swimming pool slightly traumatised, having been treated to the sight of an elderly lady with no clothes on sat on her own in the sauna. We relaxed in the swimming pool a bit longer and then decided it was time to prepare for the meal.

Half an hour later, we departed and made for the restaurant we had found earlier. Steve and I had the customary argument about who looked the best. At the restaurant, Steve was shocked to discover that his role for the evening was that of waiter (rather than waitress) liaison. However, he recovered admirably and secured us a rather cool booth table. I slid in next to Moules and Dave, with David at the head of the table and the others sat opposite. Having examined the menu, I selected goulash soup for starters and Weinerschitzel for my main course. This seemed to be a popular choice—Chris followed suit, whilst David selected potato soup and Weinerschnitzel. The others ordered similarly. The meal passed pleasantly and no one teased Moules too much about his lack of ready cash.

Having paid and argued about the tip (David pointed out that he had once worked minimum wage but he didn't do a job that society deemed tip-worthy), we left the restaurant and wandered into the old town to soak up the atmosphere. We soon found ourselves at the skating rink. I suggested we purchase a warm beverage from the local gluewein seller and we did just that. David and I selected Orangenpunsch, whilst the others had a mixture of Walderbeierpunsch, gluewein, Kirschpunsch or some other form of drink ending in punsch. We got served our drinks in commemorative mugs, but had to pay a deposit of two Euros per mug, which we thought was a little steep. As David and Steve were paying, a bloke who bore an uncanny resemblance to Jon Voight wandered over to the stall with his wife. He ordered his beverages, saying, "I'll have, Eine Alkoholfreierpunsch, AND, eine Walderbeierpunsch". His German was flawless, and it was almost impossible to tell that he was, in fact, American. David and Steve found it hard not to crack up. The rest of us found it easier, as we were further away, and I enjoyed a good chuckle. We soaked in the atmosphere, which was amazing. The castle on the hill was lit up and the views around the area were spectacular.

However, some of the others rapidly got bored and it was decided that we should move on. Having studied the Lonely Planet guide extensively, I had spotted a monastry in Salzburg in which the monks brewed their own beer. Seemed like a fine place to head for next, so head for it we did. It was some trek. We walked up many hills and down many alleyways, but we eventually arrived at a place called the Augustine Braustubl. Inside we walked down a massive decorative staircase, and followed the sound of merriment into a massive hall that looked just like a formal hall in Cambridge. Impressive. We walked over to a table and plonked ourselves down. A waiter arrived and we ordered funf halb litre beer und ein Coca-Cola. The waiter sort of understood what we wanted, and brought us what appeared to be five half litre tankards of beer and a coke. Nice one. The beer didn't suit my taste but some of the others seemed to like it (or they just didn't want to admit that they didn't, which is also a possibility). As we sat and chatted, Steve noticed a sign on the wall with the word "Stammtisch" written on it. He suddenly got very excited and began to tell us about some Austrian girl he worked with who had introduced him to this concept. As Steve went on to tell us, a Stammtisch is a get together of friends, whereby you meet at a particular place, but people don't necessarily come for the whole evening—so you can come and go whenever you like. We all found it strange that such a concept was allocated a word in Austria—surely this was like any pub get together with your mates. Nevertheless, we took the concept on board and vowed to popularise it.

It soon became time to return to the hotel to punch the sack. We thus began the slow walk back. No traffic cones were evident, so we would have to delay our recreation for another day. Back at the hotel there was a suggestion of a trip to the bar. Seemed like a plan, so to the bar we went. Dave quickly wrote "Stammtisch der Oberstmanne" on a napkin and put it on our table to signify occupation.

Soon afterwards, I became tired and decided it was time to catch up on some shut eye, so I returned to my room and prepared myself for day 2.

Thursday, 28th November

I had my alarm set early. I woke up at just before 7a.m. I was fairly knackered, but I dragged myself out of bed and made for the gym. I was amazed to discover that Chris was already there, enjoying a nice run on the treadmill. He soon finished and went for a swim. I got on the treadmill and shortly, David arrived. Once I had concluded my run, the two of us joined Chris in the pool. We were all shattered but somehow it seemed like an excellent way to start the day.

We returned to our rooms to have a shower and arranged to meet up with me down in the breakfast room. David came with me to breakfast and we picked Rupert up on route. We gave our room number to the woman at the entrance to the breakfast area and were directed to a table. The dining area was actually made up of two rooms and we were directed through the first into the one at the back. The breakfast array was superb. We all helped ourselves to an assortment of cereals, cooked breakfasts, smoked salmon, croissants, bread, pastries, orange juice and so on. Eventually we also managed to secure some coffee for our table. Chris, Steve and Dave soon joined us and partook of the breakfast. As is usual with a Colonel's break breakfast, Rupert did not get his money's worth but Chris more than made up for it.

Once everyone had filled themselves up on croissants with chocolate sauce, we returned to our rooms briefly and then departed the hotel for a fun day of sightseeing. Destination—the Castle.

On route, we wandered through the Sound of Music gardens again. However, we discovered another little area in them that you accessed via a bridge. An array of statues had been spread out around the outside of this raised area. One of them bore an uncanny resemblance to David Baddiel. Another looked reminiscent of Mrs Ploppy from Blackadder II. David and Steve posed next to her. Steve had Dave's vagabond bag on his head and pretended to be Ploppy, whilst David took on the role of Mr Ploppy.

This completed, we crossed the river via the bridge near the Augustine Braustubl, and then began a climb up one of the hills towards the castle. The castle was situated some distance around this hill, but we decided to take the long route. At the top of the hill, we briefly considered our options before Chris indicated we should set out in a direction that, to the rest of us, seemed like it was away from the Castle. We walked past some ruins and through some kind of archway. We paused by the side of a massive field and decided that we were going the wrong way. There was a brief discussion and suggestion that we went straight across the middle of the field, but I expressed reservations that we may be shot at by an irate farmer. We decided to go back the way we had come, but not before the leprechaun paused for a photo. David was looking after him, but he pulled him from his pocket and discovered that the leprechaun's mouth had fallen off! There followed five minutes of fear and panic, before his mouth was discovered inside David's pocket. Sighs of relief all around.

We retraced our steps and then began a walk around the other side of the hill. The walk was very pleasant—we were in a nice little wood, and were surrounded on all sides by views over the valley that contained Salzburg. We walked past some kind of excavation (noticing a building that had been half knocked down), down a few steep hills before arriving at some kind of notice with pictures of birds on. Chris then decided it was time to tell us what all of the birds were (as their names were written on the sign in German, we couldn't necessarily work it out for ourselves). Eventually, we managed to tear Chris away and we stopped a bit further round at a nice scenic viewpoint. At this point, we looked down and noticed that there were all these cars driving hell for leather at the base of the cliff—it appeared as if the must be smashing into it. Rupert pointed out that we were above the tunnel we had seen from ground level the day before and we all breathed a sigh of relief. Our walk continued and we crossed the first castle defences, which consisted of a wall that only covered about half of the hilltop. We went through an archway underneath it and were gifted with a view of the castle that had now become visible below the fog. Just around the corned, we found the cable car type thing that we could have taken up to it if we were lazy. We again stopped for photos. The path up to the castle looked really steep, so we began to psyche ourselves up to tackle it. Dave stayed at the cable car area to take a photo of us struggling up the steep path, before joining us at the entrance to the castle.

After some negotiations, attempted first by Rupert but taken over by Chris when Rupert bottled out, we had purchased six tickets which entitled us to tour the grounds and the castle itself. David was unsure whether this was a wise idea, but we went along with it nonetheless. Dave and Chris briefly dicked around in the souvenir shop whilst David and I investigated the Christmas trees that were for sale. Before embarking on the castle tour, we stopped in a small cafe (with bar) for a drink. With the aid of our dictionaries, we translated the menu and ordered and assortment of soft drinks. After about half an hour chilling there, we decided to continue our journey of discovery around the castle.

However, as usual, I was desperate for the toilet. In this, I was not alone. Most of the rest of them also needed to go (except Rupert, who seems to have a very strong constitution). The toilets were up a long flight of stairs and were very futuristic in appearance. We could almost imagine Buck Rogers using them (in the 21st century). Outside, I caught up with Rupert looking at a life-sized model of a cow, painted red with some weird writing on it. Interesting. The castle grounds were pretty excellent and the views were incredible. I looked down at the Christmas market and spotted a game of inner city chess going on on a massive chess board.

It was time to take the tour, or so we thought. However, we arrived at the start of the tour and were told to wait for half an hour for the guide to turn up. Eventually he did and we were handed some tape player things and told how to use them. David's face fell and he remarked that it was unlikely that he'd be using it. We were eventually allowed to wander around to the first room, which was full of models of the castle, showing its various stages of construction over the years, along with painting of the bishops of the day. David packed in halfway through the recorded commentary and sat on a step to wait for us to finish. Eventually, we were led out of this room and into the torture chamber. This was thoroughly disappointing. There was a big pit in the middle with a grill over it, in which prisoners were thrown. Once this part of the tour was over, we were led up to the top of one of the towers and were rewarded with a fantastic view over the city. I too was growing tired of the commentary and I succeeded in blundering and losing my place on the tape. We descended the tower via a different route and found ourselves in a long, very narrow corridor. Steve, Dave and I decided to hold an impromptu stammtisch there and held everyone up briefly. The tour went on in much the same vain—we were eventually led into a set of three rooms, each more dull than the one before. The only redeeming feature of the first room was the toilet that was in a cupboard, whilst the second room had some massive stove thing in it that was a bit like the one we had seen in Skansen in Stockholm. The third room had very few redeeming features, except for the fact that it was the last room on the tour. It did have a pillar that had a hunk ripped out of it by a cannonball. Moules seemed to find the tour very interesting and was listening very attentively to the tape player for the entire time.

Fortunately, the tour was now over, and I posed for a photo next to a big statue to celebrate. Some bloke also on the tour decided this was a good idea and he did the same thing. We went down some stairs (with toilet stop halfway down in some conveniently placed restrooms) and made for the museum of torture items. We looked at plenty of torture devices, including a chair with spikes sticking out of the arms and back. There were also thumb screws and helmets with spikes on and the like. In the next room there was a really weird display of stick men throwing spears in some sort of battle scene. The only other room of interest was one which contained swords, guns and various other weapons. Rupert and David were very interested in the display of guns, whilst I was particularly fascinated by one gun which could be used as an axe if you held it by the barrel. By the time we had reached the room containing the coin collections, we'd had enough, and we left the museum and decided to leave the castle also, through a cool side route down some very narrow stairs.

The journey back down the slope leading to the Castle was tough, and we were worried that one of us would fall over, but we eventually made it down and took the quick route back to the city centre. Having reached the level of the city again, we walked past a shop that was selling the famous Salzburg Mozart's balls. They seemed fairly good value, but we thought we would check out other prices before making any rash decisions. We found ourselves in a massive square just around the corner from the Christmas market and were delighted to discover that we were in the very same square that we had observed the inner city chess taking place in earlier. A very tense game was in progress. Both players seemed pretty awful, to be honest. David and I spotted a check mate that one of them could get very early on, but the guy was too stupid to see it himself. Soon becoming bored, we left the inner city chess players to their own devices and wandered through the market, past a fair number of horses and arrived at the ice rink. We paused for a while as Chris contemplated whether to have a go, before we decided to find somewhere to have lunch. We crossed a road and went down another alley before discovering a sandwich shop on the left hand side of the alley. Seemed okay, so we went in. Two girls were serving, and Rupert thought one of them was quite nice. We ordered sandwiches and coffee, both of which were very overpriced. We sat on raised seats in the rear and chilled. At this point we decided that we were willing, between us, to fund Chris to have a go at ice skating, so, once sandwiches had been consumed, we returned to the skating rink and gave him a couple of Euros from each of us.

What followed was a very pleasant afternoon. Chris went ice skating whilst the remainder of us sat at the side, drank gluewein (or kinderpunsch in David's case—Alkoholfreierpunsch by any other name) and chilled. Rupert, David, Steve and I briefly went back to the shop selling Mozart's balls and made some purchases. The bloke there told us (between drags on his cigarette) that he had the cheapest balls in all of Salzburg. He was probably right. He also told us how much he didn't like London. Charming. We returned to the skating rink and shared some Mozart's balls between us, washing them down with yet more gluewein. The skating rink was packed. Some mentalist kid decided to skate backwards really fast but he got what he deserved as he had a really nasty fall. Chris eventually did fall over (perhaps it was the regular shouts of "Chris, Chris, Chris!" that put him off), taking a kid with him. It wasn't his fault, but some Austrian woman decided to shout at him all the same. Chris then took the leprechaun for a couple of laps on the ice. As darkness began to descend over Salzburg, we decided enough was enough and Chris packed in.

We returned to the Christmas market and Steve bought a train thing for his neice. David and I then bought a nice house which lit up for our Mum and Steve followed suit and bought one for his Mum. A little while later, we discovered a sweet/chocolate stall on the market and we bought some massive crumbly circuloid cakes that came in lemon, cappucino, vanilla and chocolate varieties, amongst others. It was decided that it was time to return to the hotel and prepare for dinner, and we did, but not before Steve and Chris had decided to disappear off again and browse around the market. The rest of us continued on in the direction of the Rupertinum and stopped in a nice little side street where we bought a new recruit—Kurt the Bear, complete with laderhosen.

After a long walk back to the hotel, myself, David and Chris decided to go for a swim. I made another blunder and suggested a sauna, returning traumatised for the second day in a row as I encountered an Austrian bloke in the nude on his own in the sauna—strange country.

A meal in the old town was the order of the day, and we made our way there once our swim had been concluded and everyone had showered and changed. We arrived at a rather pleasant looking hotel and Steve did the business with obtaining a table. We were placed in a massive room all on our own, for some reason, but never mind—the food was good. Most people consumed steaks of varying types, with goulash for starters. David again selected Weinerschnitzel. One down side of the restaurant was the cost and there was the customary argument regarding the tip. Dave got embarrassed that we weren't paying ten percent and he left to wait outside whilst we paid.

By mutual consent, we went to the Augustine Braustubl for our second proper Stammtisch of the break. It was a long walk and we were in need of the drinks by the time we had arrived. Steve, Rupert, Dave and Chris decided to go for the full litre of beer this time, whilst David and I contented ourselves with coke. Unfortunately, there was a collection of mentalists in the monastry that evening—a bunch of young blokes who appeared to be members of some sort of touring choir, if their singing was anything to go by. They were all wearing white shirts that were covered in signatures and stuff—clearly they were on their final night bash and they were taking no prisoners. We briefly rallied with the occasional song of our own—"Land of Hope and Glory", "Who do you think you are kidding, Mr Hitler?", "It's a long way to Tipperary" and "Pack up your troubles in your old kit bags", to name but a few. We also did a great harmony of "Inflamation of the foreskin" which, very annoyingly, Steve and Chris complemented Dave for but not myself and David—cheeky bastards. Rupert and Chris got embarrassed and a bit worried that things would turn nasty, so we stopped.

The evening was rolling on, so we left the Stammtisch location and headed back to the old town along the waterfront. On route we discovered a traffic cone that was nailed to the floor. Rupert was clearly a bit the worse for wear by this stage, because he laid down on the floor and shouted "Stop telling me what to do!" through it. Unfortunately, our search for 4 traffic cones was looking like it would end in failure, so we might have to settle for this single effort. We eventually selected an Australian bar looking over the river. Inside it looked very strange—it was full of weird bush style lighting, with stuffed Australian animals scattered around the place. We sat at a raised table on stools and engaged in some banter, which seemed to upset Moules at one point for some reason. After a while we became tired and decided it was time for bed, so we made for the hotel. However, Dave and Steve had become hungry and the sight of an Austrian kebab van proved too hard to resist. They both stopped and ordered sausages, as did Moules who had to scrounge some money to do so. Dave, Steve, Chris and I were then confronted by three of the mentalists we had met in the Augustine Braustubl earlier. They were very drunk and seemed to want to talk to us. What followed was a very bizarre chat, with them speaking in German and us speaking in English. I was a little perturbed that things may get out of hand, but fortunately that proved not to be the case, as the mentalists got bored and left the van.

Once the lads had eaten their sausages, we made our way slowly back to the hotel and I attempted to hail a taxi in the style of Alan Partridge shouting at Dan. We then walked past a nicely lit up Christmas tree that we hadn't noticed earlier.

Back at the hotel, there was a brief discussion as to whether to visit the hotel bar, but I was exhausted and I returned to my room to punch the sack and regain my strength in preparation for day 3.

Friday, 29th November

At 7a.m my alarm sounded. I had an appointment with the gym. This time there was no Chris to keep me company and I spent a lonely half hour on the treadmill. Chris later joined me in the swimming pool and we had a nice relaxing morning dip before breakfast.

Breakfast was remarkably similar to the one we had consumed the previous day. Rupert, David and I were again the first ones to arrive at the dining room and were allocated a beast of a table just inside the doorway of the second room. Eventually the other three arrived and we sat down for a speedy breakfast. As it was the third day of our trip, it was time for the customary third day excursion. We all had our hearts set on crossing the border into Germany and visiting Hitler's mountain retreat, known as the Eagle's Nest. It was situated a few miles across the border above the picturesque town of Berchtesgarten. We were scheduled to catch a train at around half past nine, so we finished our breakfasts relatively quickly before retiring to our rooms to prepare for the trip.

The walk to the station was brief and upon arrival, Steve led the way and purchased the tickets. It seemed that we were running a little late for our train (we could take the same train to Munich, much to Chris' delight) and we had to run to make it. David and Dave nearly succeeded in missing it altogether, as they seemed less keen on running for the train than the rest of us.

Once on board, we sat ourselves down (the train was virtually deserted) and watched the scenery go by. About ten minutes into our journey, we crossed a river which appeared to mark the border with Germany. We got very excited as we crossed into another country. The train journey was very pleasant—mountains were visible on both sides and we climbed up some steeps hills and travelled through some rather nice wooded areas before arriving at our destination. The journey was not enjoyed by all of us, however. Rupert and Chris found the time to catch up on some well-deserved sleep (we have the pictures to prove it).

We eventually arrived at our destination—the beautiful town of Berchesgarten. It was quite high up in the hills, and there were mountains visible on all sides. Whilst I searched out a toilet (I'd clearly had too many cups of coffee that morning again!), Chris investigated the bus situation. Well, imagine my surprise when I was reunited with the others to discover that no buses ran to the Eagle's Nest in winter! We were, quite clearly, up slack alley. Well, Steve, David and I found this somewhat amusing, and chalked it up as another victory for the dicking around boys. Clearly it wasn't their fault, but that didn't stop us from milking it somewhat. I pointed out that the guide book was rubbish—if it talked about somewhere to visit from Salzburg, it should at least have the decency to tell you when you could and could not visit it. Chris pointed out that the guide book just told you about extra excursions you could make, so it shouldn't have to tell you when you could and couldn't visit these places. I thought this was a pants argument, as did David and Steve. Rupert was quiet, as usual, and Dave showed his allegiance to the dicking around boys by supporting Chris.

We eventually decided that we would spend the rest of the day walking around Berchtesgarten, as it seemed to be quite a nice place. We therefore set off walking in what we thought was the direction of the centre of the town. After ten minutes, Moulesdecided to tell us that we were, in fact, walking in the opposite direction from the centre, so we turned around and retraced our steps. We made for the town centre, walking alongside a rather nice fast-flowing stream. A few minutes later, we came to a covered wooden bridge over this river, and paused for a couple of photos—one of Kurt the bear and a statue of a bishop and another of Chris defended the guidebook against the disgruntlement of myself and Steve (and a somewhat less disgruntled Rupert). To add to our disgruntlement, it started to rain.

A steep climb later, we found ourselves in what probably qualified as the bustling town centre of Berchesgarten. It was clearly time for coffee, so we found a nice little coffee shop that sold Mozart's balls downstairs and coffee and rather nice looking cakes upstairs. At this point we decided to stop teasing Chris about the blunder because he was growing tired of it. We had a nice chill for an hour or so with our coffee (which for me was a little strange as I had ordered some funny amaretto flavoured stuff) and then left to continue our walk. There was some kind of monument on the hillside above us and we decided to make for that.

After yet another steep climb, we walked past what appeared to be stations of the cross and we arrived at a depiction of the crucifixion. The view over Berchesgarten from here was spectacular and we paused for some photos. David spotted a cool path that went round the side of the hill, so we followed it and eventually found ourselves on the other side of Berchtesgarten next to some sort of antiques shop. We decided it was approaching lunchtime. Steve and David declared that their ideal lunch would be a hunk of meat between two pieces of bread. I had to agree. We soon arrived at a market square, with stalls under construction, next to some sort of church thing. David spotted a memorial to second World war soldiers, but more importantly, a luncheon venue. In the window were several hunks of meat. All we needed were some pieces of bread to be able to put the meat between and we were there. We went in and found that we were in luck. Bread with hunks of meat in them were ordered all around—a combination of the ham and the pork, with various lemonade/coke/beer beverages consumed. Some people even had mustard! Most of us went for seconds and we declared it the best lunchtime meal on a Colonel's break ever. We also commented that it was a good job Amal wasn't there.

Lunch over, we decided it was time to make our way back to the station for the trip home. Everyone was excited by the prospect of the Colonel's meal that evening and the selection of our next destination for the Colonel's weekend breaks.

Back at the station, Dave popped into the shop to check out guide books in order to help him to select his next destination. The remainder of us bought a smorgasbord of chocolate from the machine on the platform to consume on the journey home. Again, Dave only just made it onto the train. We were half expecting that he was going to miss it and have to wait for the next one. The journey back was somewhat more sedate than the one there, though for Moules it was pretty much the same—he fell asleep.

An hour and a half later, we were back at the hotel. The evening was going to operate on a Stammtisch format—each of us would arrive at the Augustine Braustubl whenever we wished during the course of the evening. Once we were all there, we would depart for the Colonel's meal in a restaurant of our choice. Chris and I duly headed for the swimming pool for a pleasant dip before our meal. Steve and Dave hurriedly got ready and were the first to depart for the Stammtisch. David and Rupert both decided to relax in the hotel for a little while.

After a pleasant swim (with absolutely no suggestion of going for a sauna), Chris and I returned to our rooms to shower and change before departing for the Stammtisch. We finally arrived at the Augustine Braustubl and were delighted to discover the other four already there. We had a speedy drink and then all six of us left the monastry and headed for the old town.

Once there, we ambled down the main street and looked for a place to eat. I spied a restaurant called "Spagetti and co". Since the final meal of a Colonel's break traditionally consisted of pizza, it seemed like the ideal place to eat. How wrong I was! Steve got us a table and we sat down. The evening meal progressed with a slow revealing of destinations.

First to reveal his destination was Steve. No surprises. His deal with David still held and he plumped for

COPENHAGEN.

Rupert was next. Tbe starters arrived as Rupert discussed the reasons for his choice. However, surprisingly Rupert's starter did not arrive along with everyone else. He had ordered bruschetta, but it was nowhere to be seen. Anyway, Rupert ran us through his reasonings—he had spent a pleasant few days with his family on a little island near La Rochelle many years ago, and wished to return there on the subsequent break. Therefore, his choice was

ILE DE RE.

It was my turn to speak for Amal. The sole reasoning behind his choice was his desire to visit somewhere in France that wasn't Paris. So his preferred destination was

TOULOUSE.

At this point, everyone had finished their starters, and the waiter arrived to clear our plates. He then returned with Rupert's bruschetta, which we thought was very odd.

Dave was apparently eager to push things along, and he wanted to reveal his destination. He seemed to be continuing his trend of picking somewhat obscure destinations, plus he wished us to go on a break to Italy. Hence his choice was

GENOA.

Immediately after Dave had declared his decision, the pizza arrived. Rupert had barely started his bruschetta and he had to move it off his plate to make room for his pizza plate. We couldn't believe it! The pizza proved to be a little rancid and somewhat cold.

Up next was David. Everyone was expecting him to continue with tradition and go for somewhere in Scandanavia. However, this proved not to be the case and he declared that his choice for the draw would be

GENEVA.

And thus it fell to me. As the others tucked into their cold pizzas, I discussed my desire to visit somewhere in Scandanavia again to check out the blonde bombshells in the lovely town of

HELSINKI.

David punched the air in delight.

As we finished our pizzas, all eyes turned to Chris. Whether he would choose somewhere good or totally cack was a complete mystery. Not for long. He revealed his choice:

MADRID.

Not bad, Chris. Certainly not your worst choice to date.

Finally it was time for the leprechaun to decide. After much discussion, we considered the options and, putting Holland in second place, the leprechaun went for

PORTUGAL.

The waiter arrived to clear away our plates and we, somewhat rashly, decided to order sweets and coffees. Steve also decided to get a beer in. We then prepared ourselves for the practice draw. Everyone picked a number out of the glass which was to be their drawing number. Chris landed the role of the leprechaun whilst David played the role of Amal.

As we waited for our sweets, we decided it was time for the mock draw. The situation was tense, but soon afterwards Toulouse was declared the winner. We all shared a chuckle. Clearly there was no chance whatsoever that Toulouse could now win the main draw!

As the mock draw reached a conclusion, the sweets arrived, or at least that's what we thought. It turned out that three of the sweets had arrived. We had to wait another ten minutes for the remainder to show up.

Since it was proving to be a long wait for the coffee, we decided to settle down for the main draw. The tension was unbelievable. David, Steve and I believed that it was the turn of Copenhagen.

The glass was prepared with the destinations and handed to Chris, who was taking the part of the leprechaun. He selected a destination and slowly revealed...

ILE DE RE

Not a bad start, I thought.

The glass was handed back to Chris for his own draw. Once again, we endured the slow unravelling of the paper. Chris then declared that in 7th position was...

PORTUGAL.

Bugger.

My turn. Surely I could eliminate one of the rubbish ones. I selected a piece of paper and couldn't believe my eyes when I saw...

COPENHAGEN.

Boy was I in David and Steve's bad books.

Not looking good. It began to look even worse as David eliminated his very own

GENEVA.

David then declared that he was cheering for Helsinki.

Dave wasn't, as he eliminated

HELSINKI.

Madrid, Genoa and Toulouse left. This was getting worrying. At this point, David began to get a nose bleed. The stress of the draw was starting to show.

Up stepped Amal (in the guise of David). Three left, Madrid the best. This was a cause for concern. David then revealed

GENOA.

Getting better, but Toulouse was still there. Rupert picked a destination. We were hoping that he'd done us proud and got rid of Toulouse. Our hearts sank as he revealed

MADRID.

Steve then showed us where we were going on the 5th Colonel's break. It was

TOULOUSE.

Our hearts sank. No one (other than Amal, who wasn't there) wanted to go there. We had a big discussion about this. We all agreed that we should stand by the rules. Our coffees arrived and we calmed down. Ten minutes later, we decided to have another draw. Dave agreed saying that he would go along with it provided we went to Toulouse if it won again.

Five minutes after that, we were left with Portugal and Toulouse as the two remaining destinations. As Rupert revealed Portugal and Steve showed us that Toulouse had won again, delirium was beginning to set in amongst us.

Whilst some suggested we have another draw, it was gradually sinking in that we would have to go to Toulouse on the 5th break. Meanwhile, Steve's beer that he had ordered half an hour earlier finally arrived.

Having had a thoroughly unpleasant evening, both with the meal being appalling and Toulouse winning the draw three times, we decided it was time to leave the restaurant. We all threw in just enough money to cover the meal—it worked out that we were leaving a 20C tip, which even Dave was happy with given how awful it was. However, there was a mass exodus, as no one wanted to be the last one to go. That honour was taken by Rupert and David. The waiter insisted on them staying whilst he counted the money and he was not too impressed when he realised how much tip he was getting. Should have given us decent service!

There was only one way we could redeem the evening, and we made for the gluewein stall at the ice rink. David, Rupert and I secured a table whilst Dave, Steve and Chris made for the stall to make a purchase. There was a really hairy guy with a long beard wearing white flowing robes stood at one of the tables behind us. We thought this was really odd, but he went over and joined a table behind us and started chatting to the people there so we assumed he was with them.

Meanwhile Dave was having a field day at the gluewein stall. One of the serving women asked him if he knew what time it was. He said he was just there for some gluewein. She said she wanted to know what time it was. Dave said he was just going to buy some gluewein with his friends and then he would go. She said that she didn't want him to go, she merely wished to know what the time was. Steve leapt in at this moment and told her what time it was. In the background, I laughed at this hilarious recreation of a great Stockholm moment.

We relaxed with our gluewein, but soon the hairy guy with white robes wandered over to our table, clearly attracted to the table by Dave's vagabond bag. It was obvious from the way he was walking that he was a little the worse for wear. He began to chat to us in German, but soon realised we were English and began to talk in halting English. Dave slyly took a photo of him, but he noticed. David and I thought he would flip out but he suddenly decided that he wanted his photo taken. He said, "You take another picture!" I said, "Yes, but with us!" gesturing to myself and Steve. He then put his arms around us (this was somewhat unpleasant) and David slid into the background as Dave snapped away. The tramp then pushed Steve and I out of the way and patted himself on the chest, before putting his arms in the air and saying, "Solo! Solo!", thus demanding that we take a picture of him on his own. Chris obliged him, taking a photo with my camera. He then asked to drink some of our gluewein, but we had nearly finished. He spotted some gluewein on the table in a paper cup, that was somewhat rancid and had cigarette ends in it. He said, "I drink this?" and began to pick it up. Steve said, "Yes, you can drink that one, like." However, he then realised just how rancid it was and relieved the tramp of it. We decided it was time to go, but the tramp didn't want us to leave. He said, "No! You stay a bit longer!" Steve replied with, "Alright then, just a bit longer, like." Thirty seconds later, Steve gathered our cups together and said, "Come on, let's get our two Euros back!" At that point in the break we needed all the Euros we could get and we weren't willing to sacrifice a few just to get away from this situation. We left the tramp to his own devices, all of us on the verge of mass hysteria, except for Rupert who had mysteriously disappeared.

We found Rupert wandering around a little way away. He had got too embarrassed at some point and run away. We decided to find another establishment to chill in. As we walked away, Steve pushed us all out of the way, put his arms in the air and shouted, "Solo! Solo!" Pictures were taken. We walked past what appeared to be a nice little cellar bar, so we decided to check it out. We walked down the steps and were greeted by a waiter bloke, who guided us to a table. We burst into hysterics again as we read the sign above our table. It said, simply, "Stammtisch". A mixture of beer and coke (for David) and gluewein (for me) was ordered. We spent a pleasant couple of hours chatting and listening to the jazz band. At several points during our time there, either myself or David ended up in a conversation about work with Chris. At this point, we would both turn to the other and say, "I'm fed up of this conversation. What are you talking about?" much to Chris' disgust.

After a while, a group of men entered and spoke to the waiter in German, whilst looking at our table. Steve and Dave became worried that they were expecting to have a stammtisch at our table. Dave was so worried that he asked them, in German, whether that was the case. They hadn't got a clue what he was talking about and they were soon allocated a table in another part of the bar.

Eventually we decided it was time to leave the stammtisch and return to our hotel. The walk back was long, but very entertaining. The evening had been saved and, despite the meal and Toulouse winning the draw, everyone was in good spirits. There were mainly "Solo!" recreations on the way back to the hotel, even from Chris (though not from Rupert).

Once back at the hotel, there was no suggestion of a visit to the hotel bar. Everyone was really tired, and we all retired to our rooms to punch the sack.

Saturday, 30th November

I woke up slightly later than usual, as I was not intending to visit the gym that morning. I think the prospect of going to Toulouse had sapped all of my enthusiasm. I showered and wandered down to breakfast with David as usual. We were allocated a table in the first room this time, which made for a pleasant change.

Everyone was fairly tired and downhearted at the prospect of returning home so soon and conversation at breakfast was at a low point. Chris found it difficult to talk because he was too busy eating croissants. Once breakfast was concluded, we all packed and wandered into town for a nice morning's stroll. No one really knew what they wanted to do. I suggested going for coffee but that didn't go down very well. Eventually we decided to make a trip to the natural history museum to check out the display of deformed animals. However, upon arrival we discovered that it was simply too expensive. Looked like we would have to go elsewhere. I made a second suggestion to get some coffee and this time everyone agreed.

Half an hour later we found ourselves in a rather large cafe place that overlooked the ice rink. It was pleasant, other than the fact that there was no non-smoking section and we seemed to be surrounded on all sides by smokers. Not very nice. We talked about Toulouse, and whether there was anything we could do about changing it, but we all agreed that we had entered into the draw process and we couldn't really go against that. Looked like mission 5 would be in Toulouse then.

We paid up and returned to the hotel, taking a final walk through the nice gardens in which "Doe Ray Me" had been filmed. Back at the hotel, we collected our bags and then proceeded to check out, having booked a taxi to arrive to take us to the airport. Take us to the airport it did, with Chris again taking charge of the communication side of things.

Salzburg airport departure area proved to be a bit rubbish, and there was very little for us to do other than collapse and wait for our flight home. When our flight was called, there was some kind of massive rush from everyone else to get onto the plane. We eventually decided we would have to join in otherwise we would fail to get any seats together, so we barged through the crowds and selected a reasonable area on the plane. As the plane took off, we did the usual, "It's still Salzburg. For the next few minutes it's Salzburg." As the plane finally left the ground, we said, "Salzburg is over. But the Salzburg experience continues."

A quiet plane journey later, we descended into Stansted and found ourselves back in Great Britain. The journey was somewhat more relaxed than the equivalent one back from Stockholm as there was no football match that we didn't want to know the result of! As we arrived at Cambridge, we bade farewell to Steve. He was remaining on the train to go off in the direction of Leeds. We were losing Colonel's men at a rapid rate of knots—Dave wandered off just outside the station as Chris, Rupert, David and I waited for a taxi to take us back to St Regis. We were waiting for some time in the pouring rain, but one eventually came.

Ten minutes later, we were back in St Regis and for all of us, the Salzburg experience seemed to have ended. It had been a classic break once again.

However, we had one last opportunity to continue the experience—we had a date with Chilis that evening. Rupert, David and I blundered over there, leaving Chris to go to bed as he had to get up early for some sort of dancing competition. Dave joined us in Chilis, and we spent a pleasant evening reminiscing about the break and gratuitously naming directors of films.

Later, back at St Regis, myself, David and Rupert pondered the break and thought about the prospects for mission 5. None of us could get too excited because, as we all knew:

It's Toulouse next time!