I was very much an “auslander” when I lived in Austria. An outlander. I have fine in-laws who are kind and generous, but I did not have friends here, and I spent huge amounts of time alone. During that time, I covered sections of the Enns Valley on foot, repeatedly. Outlander is a funny word for someone who developed such a personal relationship with the surface of the land.
It is spring, almost summer now and the meadows are so green.… continued…
“We would have sent you home,” said Teresa, our hostess. “It was freezing up there, there was new snow. You made the right choice to stay in bed.”
It was a painful choice, though, one wrapped in self pity and despair. I had a window of relief from whatever flu I’ve picked up, just enough time to surface for dinner, and then, I awoke again sticky and exhausted after ten or twelve hours of muddy sleep.… continued…
This is not, I can assure you, how I’d intended to reacquaint myself with Austria. I did not want to take breakfast in my room, I did not want to hand over my credit card to pay for a pile of medication, I did not want to miss the field trip to the high meadows. My plan had nothing to do with alternating my hours between sleeping and feeling sorry for myself, but that’s what I’ve been doing.… continued…
