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In Salzburg free porn video
AN: This is a work of fiction.
*****
‘Entshuldigung, ist dieser Platz frei?’
My hands slipped from my book and it fell to the floor. I was reading a travel guide when I was interrupted by a warm, baritone voice. A young man in his early twenties was standing along the open door of the train compartment that I occupied. I didn’t catch what he said since it was in German, but I presumed that he was asking if he could sit with me. I nodded and pointed to the empty seats across me, then bent to pick up my guide.
Upon entering, he placed his large knapsack on the overhead luggage rack. He sat down on the chair across me, but not directly, to give enough leg room for both of us. Putting on an old baseball cap, he stretched his long legs before him, folded his arms above his stomach and went to sleep.
We were on the train to Salzburg, and it was going to be a long ride, three hours at the least. As the train travelled along the lush Austrian countryside, my eyes wandered to the guy across me. Dark blond hair was visible from below his cap, and I saw the hint of stubble on his chin. He was wearing a blue T-shirt, khaki shorts, socks and rubber shoes.
Typical backpacker outfit, I thought. As a backpacker, I was also casually dressed, I was wearing a red figure-hugging T-shirt, blue jeans, socks and sneakers. As I gazed at him sleeping peacefully on his side of the compartment, I looked back and remembered how I came to be on this particular train.
I was born in 1975, the year when the Americans pulled out of Vietnam and that country fell into the hands of the communists. My father was a Nam vet, he was drafted in ’67 and served for two years, until a leg injury earned him a ticket home. Until today, that wound bothers him from time to time, especially during winter.
Dad went back home to New York City and went on to study pharmacy. His time in Nam gave him an appreciation for sloe-eyed women, and as a young man, he fell in love with the daughter of an apothecary in Chinatown, a petite, delicately boned girl named Yi Shen, a.k.a. Cindy, who soon became my mother.
My straight black hair and dark brown eyes reflected my Chinese ancestry. My mother is a second generation Chinese woman who married a pharmacist of Polish extraction. Her surname was Lee, and in an attempt keep the family name going, gave that name as a first or second name to all her children. Thus I was named Lee Anna Kowalski, while my younger brothers were gifted with names of Mark Lee and Simon Lee. I am called Lee while they are called Mark and Simon.
Thanks to our father’s genes, we grew up to be significantly taller than our pure blooded Chinese cousins. I stood at 5’6′, while my female cousins averaged at 5 feet in height. During my early teens, I felt like a gawky giant in the company of petite beauties. Despite my height, I inherited my mother’s delicate bones, and constantly thanked her genes in contributing to my slender physique.
Mom came from a big family of Chinese Americans and the extended family often met for holidays, the most important of which was the lunar new year. During that time, we would eat rice cakes and crescent-shaped dumplings, and receive little red packets containing money or some trinket for good luck. Having been born in the year of the wooden rabbit, it never hurts to have more luck as we rabbits were said to be flighty.
My parents had a tumultuous courtship, my dad had to overcome the objections of my strict oriental grandparents. They were traditionalists and wanted to my mom to marry a man of similar origins.
This was in the seventies and my mom was a by-product of those times, she rebelled against her parents and married my dad against her parents’ will. After I was born, the hostilities were ended and my grandparents grudgingly accepted my dad. In time they had learned to respect him and now remain in very good terms with each other. Their love affair is a long tale worthy of its own telling, which I would rather not expound on.
Having grown up in the congested streets of New York, I adored the rolling hills and meadows of the European countryside. I had just finished my second year in NYU where I studied languages, with emphasis in French and Spanish. I was awarded a summer fellowship to study French at La Sorbonne in Paris. It was a delightfully enriching experience for me, I basked in the old world elegance of Paris and in the Gallic nature of the French people.
The summer of 1995 was nearly at an end, my academic requirements had been fulfilled and I was backpacking my way across Europe alone. As a foreign student I was short on cash, but I wanted to see more of Europe before I was scheduled to go home the following week. In my eight days of travel, I had spent my meager savings for tickets to Brussels, Cologne, Bremen, Berlin, Prague and lastly, Vienna.
I also spent a few francs on film and captured images on my small instamatic camera. Travelling by train, I ate cheap food and slept in youth hostels. A few of the sights I had visited include the Gothic churches in Cologne, the Grand Place and the Manneken-Pis in Brussels, the remains of the Berlin wall, the charming city of Prague, and lastly, the majestic buildings in Vienna, the seat of the once powerful Austro-Hungarian empire.
From Vienna, I was on my way to Salzburg, the birthplace of Mozart, the child genius who later became one of the most famous composers of all time. I was particularly excited to visit Salzburg, not because of Mozart, but because it was the location for the Rogers and Hammerstein musical film, ‘The Sound of Music’.
I must have watched that movie more times than I could count, and I knew all of the songs by heart. When we were young, my brothers and I would get together with our neighbors and pretend to be the von Trapp children.
Being the oldest girl, I naturally played the role of Liesl, and I knew every step of the dance that I called the ‘Pavilion dance’. I knew by heart the lyrics of the song ‘I am 16 going on 17’, and during our impromptu productions, I would dance coyly and bat my eyelashes at ‘Rolfe’, who was played by Fred, a skinny, carrot-topped neighbor who couldn’t carry a tune but could dance heavenly and twirl me high up in the air.
Fred was working as an apprentice in a laboratory that summer of ’95, it was part of his training a pre-med student at SUNY-Buffalo in western New York. His dancing and (lack of ) musical skills remained and his hair has darkened to auburn.
The Schengen Agreement had recently been ratified, thus I was able to travel to Belgium and Germany without the inconvenience of having my passport checked. Austria had joined the European Union only a few months ago, and was still not included in the list of Schengen countries.
The time came for the inevitable inspection, and my backpacker neighbor was awakened by the conductor and was asked to show his ticket and passport. After inspecting our documents, the conductor moved on and I was left alone with BackpackerBoy.
He yawned and stretched on his chair, then settled his pierce blue gaze on me. I smiled tentatively, and seeing my smile, he asked, ‘Wohin sind Sie gehen?’
I replied, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t understand.’
He smiled then immediately switched to English. ‘I said, where are you going?’
‘Salzburg,’ I replied. ‘You?’
‘The same.’
‘You’re backpacking as well,’ I commented, pointing to his large knapsack.
‘Yes. I’m travelling my way to Salzburg then Italy. And you?’
‘I’ve travelled to Belgium, Germany, the Czech Republic, and now Austria. I’ll be going on to Munich, then back to Paris.’
‘You’re American,’ he said, judging from my accent.
‘Yup, from New York city,’ I replied. ‘You?’
‘Austrian.’
‘Oh really. Where in Austria?’ I asked.
‘From a small village near Eisenstadt, in Burgenland.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Do you have a map of Austria? Or Europe? I can show you,’ he replied.
I searched in my purse, found a map of Europe and opened it. He transferred to the seat beside me and reached for the map. ‘May I?’ he asked.
I gave the map to him and he pointed the location of his hometown. Eisenstadt is the capital of Burgenland, one of the Bundesländer or federal states in Austria. It is at the eastern part of the country, near the Hungarian border. The village he came from was a small one, and for convenience’s sake, he always mentioned Eisenstadt since it was a place more easily recognized.
His name was Hans Schneider, and he was studying Economics at the University of Zurich. He had just finished a summer apprenticeship in one of the banks the city is famous for, and was backpacking for two weeks before he had to return to school.
He was on his last year of studies and was born to an Austrian father and Hungarian mother. After Salzburg, he would be travelling to various parts of Italy before spending some time with his family near Eisenstadt, then would be going back to Zurich to finish his last year in university.
His English was perfect, albeit with a lilting accent. When asked, he answered that he spoke German and Hungarian fluently, as well as a little French. Since I had spent the last few days in German-speaking countries, my trained ear noticed some differences between the German spoken in Germany and of that in Austria. In my opinion, the Austrian version of the German language was softer to the ears, and had a sing-song quality not present among other native German speakers.
As a student of languages, I was fascinated with these differences and mentioned them to Hans. He explained to me some minor differences between German spoken in Germany, Austria and Switzerland.
He then asked me what I studied, and when I answered linguistics, asked what languages I spoke. I told him that I spoke English (the American variety, of course), Mandarin Chinese (my mother insisted on all of us learning it), French and Spanish, and had a fairly good grasp of Latin and Italian.
As we spoke for with each other during that long train ride, I noticed several things about him – how his eyes squinted when asked a particular question, how his hands gestured when he was trying to make a point, and the way his lips curved when he was amused. I adored his fresh, clean scent, and basked in the warmth of his smile.
One of the topics we talked about was music. I was more of a pop, soft rock, and R&B lover, while he liked heavy metal and classical music, a dichotomous combination. I told him that I grew up listening to Madonna, Cyndi Lauper and Michael Jackson, but at present, my favorites were Boys II Men and Mariah Carey. Call me cheesy, but I loved their collaborative song, ‘One Sweet Day’. I also envied Mariah’s figure as she was wearing miniscule shorts in the music video.
Hans was into Metallica, Pink Floyd, Nirvana and Guns n Roses, as well as the classical composers. However, we did have a common favorite, Sting, and we both liked Bon Jovi’s ‘Bed of Roses’. Our conversation moved on to movies, and I asked his opinion about the Rodgers and Hammerstein film.
‘Hey, what do you think about the movie The Sound of Music?’ I asked.
‘Which film is that?’
‘You don’t know?’ I asked incredulously. ‘It was filmed in Salzburg. It’s about a girl from the convent who became the governess of seven children from the von Trapp family.’
‘Ach so! The Trapp family. It has a different name in German. It’s called Meine Lieder, Meine Träume, or My Songs, My Dreams. I’ve never seen it.’
‘What? You’ve never seen it?’ I gasped in disbelief. ‘It’s famous all over the world!’
‘No, I’ve never seen it. It just didn’t interest me. And many Austrians have never seen it, either. It’s just… too Hollywood, too American,’ he explained jokingly and shrugged his shoulders.
However, I felt that there was a grain of truth in his explanation, so I didn’t pursue it. During my short stay in Europe, I noticed that some people were uncomfortable talking about World War II, so I left it alone.
My paternal grandfather is a WWII vet, he was one of the paratroopers who landed in Normandy during D-Day. He still doesn’t like to talk about his experiences. I knew that I had distant relatives in Poland and that many of them died or suffered during the war.
So instead I switched topics, and asked him about his studies and European economics in general. European economy and politics were at a very interesting stage at that time, three countries (Austria, Finland and Sweden) had just joined the European Union, and the socio-political environment was very dynamic.
Our conversation continued until we got off the train. We went to the Tourism office to ask for maps and youth hostels nearby. I specifically asked the lady in charge about the places from the film. She gave me helpful tips and pointed out the location of the different houses on the map.
In the movie, it was made to look like all the scenes were filmed in one house, however, this was not the case in actual. The grand staircase, the lakeside garden at the back of the house, and the façade of the mansion — those belonged to different houses or palaces.
Since Hans and I had more or less become friends, we decided to search for a hostel together. In the first hostel that we went to, the only available rooms were a room for four with bunk beds, and a room for two with single beds.
‘Do you mind sharing a room with me?’ he asked. ‘I assure you I’ll be the perfect gentleman. I won’t do anything that you wouldn’t like,’ he said with a suggestive smile.
Blushing at his expression, I replied, ‘Sure, no problem. It’s cheaper to share the room, and it’s only for a night, right?’
I had qualms in sharing the room with him, but then, I had shared rooms with other strangers during my backpacking tour, so I shrugged them off. Single rooms were more expensive, and on my limited budget I couldn’t be too choosy. I didn’t want to waste time searching for another hostel and lugging my backpack around when we could have been exploring the city.
Thus, we took the key and climbed the stairs to our assigned room. It was simple and spartan, with two single beds, a small table, and a small cabinet for clothes. Fortunately it had its own shower and toilet, so we wouldn’t have to go to a communal shower room, unlike in some hostels that I’ve occupied. I took my camera, passport and money, placed them inside my purse, and was set to go.
Hans had a belt bag around his waist and was ready to leave too. It would also be a new experience for him since it was his first time in the city. With maps in hand and smiles on our faces, we set out to explore the city of Salzburg.
*****
We were walking along Residenz square, the place where Maria sang ‘I Have Confidence in Me’. Hans was giving me a treatise about famous Austrian composers, when I gave a cheeky remark.
‘Is there any famous Austrian artist? You have great classical composers, like Mozart, Haydn, Schubert and Strauss. But are there any modern ones, you know, those seen on MTV?’ I asked, kidding him.
‘Sure, we have Falco,’ he answered proudly.
‘Falco, who’s that?’
‘He sang Rock Me Amadeus and Vienna Calling.’ He proceeded to sing a few lines of the Amadeus song, bobbing his head with every mention of the word Amadeus and making me laugh at his antics.
‘Ooooh, that’s a good one,’ I said, as I recovered from my bout of laughter. ‘Do it again!’
‘I think not, impertinent miss!’ He proceeded to tickle me and I ran away from him, giggling.
We reached the Residenz fountain, which was also featured in the movie. ‘Stop!’ I gasped. ‘I surrender!’ I said, as I struggled to control my laughter.
‘You won’t get away from me that easily, little miss!’ still threatening to tickle me, his eyebrows
wiggling suggestively.
‘No, no, I’m serious. I must take a picture of this fountain. It was in the movie!’ I said, bending and resting my hands on my knees as I caught my breath from our short run.
‘Oh, all right. You and your movie. Give me your camera, I’ll take your photo.’
I gave him my best Maria-like pose, and he took the shot. We continued seeing the sights of the city, taking note of the places which were used in the film. We went to the Mirabell Gardens and Mirabell Palace, where Maria and the children sang ‘Do-Re-Mi’, the Felsenreitschule where the Trapp family performed its farewell song and Captain von Trapp sang ‘Edelweiss’ together with the crowd, and the Benedictine Convent on Nonnberg where the nuns sang ‘Maria’.
Some of the other places from the film were too far from the city center, so we just explored the city itself. Lunch was eaten on the street, we bought food from an Imbiss, or a hotdog stand. We visited the Rathaus or city hall, the St. Peter’s church and Hellbrunn Palace, which is famous for its fountains. The pavilion where the song ‘I am 16 going on 17’ was performed is now located in its grounds. During the time when the movie was filmed, that pavilion was located in Leopoldskron Palace, which served as the residence of the Trapp family, with its façade facing the lake. However, Leopoldskron Palace was not within the inner city limits, so we did not venture there.
For dinner Hans found a small, out of the way family-ran restaurant. I protested, since I was on a meager budget and couldn’t afford restaurant meals. He brushed my protests aside and said, ‘It’s my treat.’ The interior was quaint and homey, with wooden chairs and tables covered with checked cloth. Paintings of country scenes abounded on the walls.
We were served by a plump, middle-aged woman wearing the traditional costume or dirndl. The menu was in German, and since I didn’t know what a typical meal was, I asked Hans to order for me. We ate pork schnitzel (breaded porkchop), potato salad, and sauerkraut. For dessert I had a serving of apple strudel served with vanilla sauce, while he ordered a Marillenknödel, or a dumpling with peach inside.
It was the first real meal I’ve had in days, and I was filled to the gills. I was also a bit tipsy since Hans ordered a bottle of Riesling which was made in Styria, a state in the southeastern part of Austria. I suggested a walk to burn out some calories and to minimize the effect of the wine, and Hans readily agreed.
From a distance, we could see the snow-capped mountains of the Alpine region. It was twilight, the days were still long and a bright moon was beginning to rise, illuminating the city. Hans took my hand, and as I didn’t object, we sauntered around the city with clasped hands and enjoyed the night time sights and sounds.
At one point in our meanderings, we ventured into a small park. We rested on the bench and just sat beside each other, enjoying the cool breeze. From a distance, we heard a dog bark and the soft murmur of conversation from a nearby couple.
Hans lifted one arm and placed it upon my shoulders. I laid my head on his shoulder, and this caused him to hold me tighter against him. He turned his head and his eyes sought mine. He must have liked what he saw in there, as he leaned to kiss me.
It was a soft, exploratory kiss, a gentle touching of his lips against mine. He drew back to see my reaction, and I gave a hesitant half-smile. He kissed me again, light, subtle kisses on my lips, until he took my lower lip between his teeth and gave it a soft nibble. His tongue slid into my mouth, explored it and sought my own tongue.
Our tongues entwined, and soon we were moaning with desire. My hands were on his head, ruffling his hair, while his slid inside my red T-shirt, caressing the smooth skin of my back. He lifted his lips, then his blue eyes captured my chocolate gaze.
‘Let’s go back to the hostel,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘It’s getting late.’
With short breaths, we walked to the nearest tram station to get to our hostel. We avoided bodily contact, our bodies were heated up and just a touch could light a spark between us. It was better to wait until we reached the privacy of our room.
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