Welcoming Mr. Nobody

Salzburg was a blissful re-connection with old haunts and old friends. Everything not only familiar, but preciously so as I invoked in my imagination the long line of people I’ve shared it with in the past 30 plus years. It was also a chance to teach yet again at the Orff Institut and share something about jazz in a way that few have considered. It was yet another place to share my movie and that was meaningful in both place and people attending. Finally, it was a chance to be the Salzburg tour guide for both my wife Karen and my friend Terry, a role I love. All of which required the ”somebody” half of self— a fellow I deeply appreciate, having spent my whole life cultivating him. 

 

But now’s the time to switch to the “nobody,” a half I equally relish and deeply need. The anonymous traveler just soaking in World through all senses, with no agenda other than to praise and be grateful. That’s the one I hope to greet each of the next nine mornings as we ride our bikes through the exquisite Slovenian landscape. 

 

This Mr. Nobody began to wake up on the four hour train ride through the rolling hills and  mountains between Salzburg and Bled, Slovenia. Like a developing photograph, he appeared a bit more vividly in last night’s dinner at a traditional restaurant serving buckwheat fritters with mushroom sauce, a well-crafted local IPA beer and a delicious walnut ice cream drizzled with pumpkin oil. 

 

This morning, he slept in a bit while Mr. Somebody bought his long-overdue flights for the coming New Orleans Jazz Course and took his bulging laundry bag up the street. Miraculously, he figured out how to negotiate the token system and the machines themselves, lucked into the one open washing machine out of the five there and again, found the one open dryer when the cycle was finished. Those little victories that the traveler celebrates with renewed appreciation. Then to the hotel breakfast with a carnival of different choices— breads, muffins, yogurts, muesli, granola, eggs, fried cheese, fried cauliflower, bowls of nuts and dried fruits, cheeses and sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, six different juices and yet more. 

 

Then off the five of us—Gerry, Terry, Dennis, Doug and Karen (for future reference)—went to walk around the lake in this most picturesque town of Bled. (The actual biking begins tomorrow.) First, we took a stop at a fancy hotel with a pool on the 5^th floor. Not open to the public, but a pretty impressive place to swim laps. 

Then we began the walk in earnest. A sunny, warm day, a castle looking down at us from the mountain, a church from the island in the lake, a friendly path along the water’s edge, sometimes near the road, sometimes in open little fields, sometimes through the woods. 

Halfway across, we took a boat to the island and watched the “gondolier’s” unique rowing technique. My friends paid the 10 Euros to enter the church, but I’ve seen enough of that story to forego it and just waited outside. Sitting there without looking at my phone like my Mr. Nobody used to do when I traveled, re-invoking that sense of being footloose and fancy free, all of life an adventure spread out before me. Realistically, not, but mythologically that sensation available any time. 

Back to the mainland, lunch on a bench (shh! Little sandwiches we made from the breakfast spread and took with us) and then on we went, with tiny sprinkles of rain and distant thunderclaps accompanying us. Past a gathering of people training for water lifesaving and a machine that literally grabbed a car out of the water and hoisted it up. (I believe this was a practice exercise and not a real find.) 

 

With the thunder sounding more ominous, we continued on and started to ascent the path through the woods to arrive at the castle. Another pricey entrance fee which I gave in to, but some interesting exhibits (see the photo of pipes below) about this quite interesting country about which few people know anything! There have been jazz festivals starting in the 1960’s, the town of Bled first became known as a tourist attraction through its Spa resorts, Slovenia as it’s known today was not a country until 1991 and it boasts one of the world’s older languages spoken by one of the fewest number of people living in a nation state (around 3 million). 

We enjoyed the exhibits at the castle, soaked in the views and found a path through the woods that intuitively felt right—and it was. Got back to the hotel late afternoon and thankfully missed the threatening thunderstorm deluge. (Which still hasn’t come).

 

Everyone resting now, me writing and thankful to begin my life anew as Mr. Nobody.