/ Europe2017

Rupertikirtag

It's St. Rupert's day today. Who? None other than the patron saint of Salzburg and so excuse for one of the biggest celebrations of the year. Trouble is it's a bit wet again today.

The morning's OK so we wander into town and stumble across the house that was Mozart's birthplace. Wonder if he ever wrote Eine Kleine Cornflakemusik


At 12 o-clock the clock strikes many times indicating the start of proceedings. There's a market around the cathedral square. Lots of local food, cakes and bread but some real craft stuff, not just the sort of tat you see at UK Christmas markets. There's a blacksmith selling little keys and coat hooks whilst making something (not sure what) much bigger.A pewtersmith is making ornate bottle enclosures and has some nice pieces on his stand. A wood turner almost tempts us with some toys but the antler worker has nothing that appeals. There's a rug weaver who also makes woven slippers which I fancy but Liz is not so sure.  All of these are very reasonably priced, although the maker of hand-made hunting knives has things well beyond my price range, which is a pity. We settle on a simple souvenir. Each year, with the support of the local Lions a small handbill is produced for the festival. It is on handmade paper and the engraving is pressed using an antique printing press. We're assured old ones are very collectable but, for us, it's a unique piece of art and memento of the holiday.

I wish I could find a reason to buy lederhosen. It does look good and a lot of people are wearing out today. Mind you one stall had some short cut purple lederhosen. I'd be guaranteed a gay night out wearing that!

There were also these people ensuring celebrations would go off with a bang


The huge beer tent beckons. We find a table with someone dressed in trachte (traditional costume) and order a couple of beers.

 The band starts up. We chink glasses and clap along like locals. It's all rather jolly. Except it has started to lash it down outside so the only thing is another beer.


Rain eventually abates so we take another stroll around the square and stumble upon the alpenhorns.

Raining again. The beer tent beckons.

To think that when we were courting (now there's a word that shows my age) my Dad would only but her halves as he considered pints unladylike!

Today's blog may well end prematurely here ... especially it the wee lassie with a Schnapps barrel around her neck makes it to this table.