"Duernstein" is the place where a few hundred years ago King Richard the Lion heart was imprisoned by the local Fuzz,. As far as the story goes, this chappie Blondel, a mandolin weilding man in tights, scoured Europe for a sign of his master. Finally tracking him down in this place by singing a favourite song of Rick and having a few bars returned. Back in England, Blondel ratted on the Austrians and was responsible for a large chunk of dough to be exchanged for Ricky. The story does not say whether it was worth the trouble, but it proved very profitable for the local big shot.
Walking through the village gave a feeling of familiarity. Worse, the fingers entwined through mine felt like an extension of myself and I was now very worried for my life as a free man. Wine and food in the garden terrace of an old restaurant made the pain bearable and walking to the car the conversation became intimate and probing. We made plans to return to Vienna and between caring embraces parted to our individual seats for the 2-hour drive.
Picking up a Kilo of fresh cherries, the drive took us past "Schloss Grafenegg". A quick stop to admire the castle led to embraces. We talked stock market, past loves, past marriages, past successes and disappointments. The past did not seem to matter anymore. It was relegated to history. Time speeds up and the mind takes time to catch up. I was being carried away by this curiosity that left me wondering if I was being seduced by the country.
Friday was getting close. I was to leave Austria to return for my yearly visit with Malta. Vienna was holding me to her, Malta was asking for my appearance. The party on Thursday night was a perfect ending to my visit. Andrea was to join me in Malta. I promised to show her the real Malta. The one no tourist sees. It was going to be hard to impress after this beauty. Impressing is not required; one feels more than sees Malta.
Malta lives in the blood. Mixed feelings abounded. I was overcome be the apparent pleasure and interest my new Austrian friends expressed at the party and I resolved to return.
Walking through the village gave a feeling of familiarity. Worse, the fingers entwined through mine felt like an extension of myself and I was now very worried for my life as a free man. Wine and food in the garden terrace of an old restaurant made the pain bearable and walking to the car the conversation became intimate and probing. We made plans to return to Vienna and between caring embraces parted to our individual seats for the 2-hour drive.
