Saturday in Innsbruck, Austria

This is one story in a series of stories that tell about a backpack trip to Europe in the spring of 1976 by myself in an effort to run away from the pain of a broken heart. (To read from the beginning Google "The Ramblings of an Aging Baby Boomer" and go back to March 27th, "I'll Never Find Love Again.")

Saturday, April 10,  1976, Innsbruck, Austria

The days are clicking by. We are in Innsbruck, Austria. It's chilly so I'm layered up in an effort to keep warm. This is where the winter Olympics were held this year. That's pretty cool. It's a beautiful town with enormous mountains all around. The three of us took a cable car up 7,000 feet to the top of one mountain and watched as hang gliders jumped into the blue and flew like birds. The town looked so small below us. Because of the cold I'm staying close to the hotel while Willem and Charles check out the local castles and museums.

My chest feels really tight. It's kind of hard to breathe, but that's probably because we are so high up and the air is thinner.

Tomorrow we are going to Vienna to see Willem's brother.

View from our hotel room in Innsbruck

Observations so far:

Parisian men tend to be more feminine, although it is not frowned upon. As a matter of fact, it denotes sophistication and class. They dress impeccably. Parisians are in their own fast-moving world. They seem disinterested in anything other than themselves. The waiters were not eager to serve us because we slowed them down by the language barrier.

The Spanish are generally friendly, at least the people working at the hotel were. They come in all colors, sizes, and shapes. They are not necessarily dark haired and dark skinned. Some have blonde hair with blue eyes. The style is extremely tight pants on the women with flair bottoms that cover their high platform shoes. The men wear pants that accentuate their behinds. They flair at the bottom with no back pockets. Men walk erect and proud. The image you might have of a bullfighter is an accurate one.

Overall, people in France, Spain, Italy and now Austria appear to be closer to each other than back in the states. They aren't afraid to touch, to hold hands, to kiss. I'm talking about men to men and women to women. It's not uncommon to see two women walking down the street arm in arm, or two men greeting each other by kissing on the cheek. It's quite nice to see and I wish it were that way back home.

The little girls in Europe all wear dresses. They are so feminine and proper. In Venice, especially, I saw so many little ladies being minded by their daddies. They all had scarves on their heads, knee-length skirts and knee socks with pretty, dainty shoes.

The prettiest women so far were in Spain, but that could be mostly due to the Ramblas--the main tourist street in Barcelona--drawing the tourists and tourists were what I saw.