Our “AirBnB” in the Tirol Alps in Austria (put your finger on Munich and then drag it south-south-west-ish through the Bavarian Alps and stop a thumbs-width into Austria: that is where you’ll find Fernpaß, literally a pass from one valley to another and the easiest way to get from Italy through Austria to Southern Germany.
I use air-quotes around AirBNB because in reality this is a world-class yoga/meditation place that when it isn’t hosting groups from Korea practicing a style of martial fighting, or two-week silent (as in “no talking”) camps, or groups of folks learning styles of yoga for a week at a time...they rent two rooms.
How we happened upon it is quite random. I wanted a stop mid-way between Munich and Switzerland. We’ve seen Eastern Austria (which makes me giggle because Österreich means “eastern Reich of Germany” so really we’ve seen Östösterreich) when we went to Vienna but not the middle or western Austria. Stunning. Jaw-dropping. Glorious trees, mountains, lakes, tunnels and more.
This is a dead time in this region for tourism. I found that out when I tried booking room in ritzy St. Anton am Alberg (and later when we tried to stop there for food). It’s closed. The only 40 people left in the town were repaving the road that goes it. The only other way around the town was through the largest tunnel in Austria (which we had to backtrack and use) that burrows 9 miles through a mountain.
Pulling up to the beautiful old inn, we weren’t sure what to expect. Do we knock? It’s not really a hotel but a retreat. We opened the door and met one of the owners, who was feeding her cute 2-year old in a large communal family room.
We learned quickly that the retreat is made up of several owners, who rotate as others travel the world or train in places like India, and volunteers who stay for days, weeks, or months at a time, usually repeat visitors, to learn, study, help, and practice their craft. Every day someone cooks a delicious vegetarian meal for dinner. Every day someone cooks a delicious breakfast.
Debating whether we should impose or find an alternative for dinner, it turns out everything in that area is also pretty much closed for Summer or at least closed by 6pm. We originally said we’d find something else but after Yelping around, I snuck to the kitchen, met a nice girl from Transylvania in Romania, and asked if she could include us. She was kind, made a killer dinner of beautiful sprouted salad and a pilaf/mash of rice-butter-saffron-asparagus-broccoli-toasted nuts-heaven.
Many of the volunteers and one of the owners were working late on a retaining wall so we ate by ourselves. Another volunteer kindly invited us to join them in the Family room and we did, meeting all 10 of them, swapping stories, and talking about the world. A few from Scotland, one from southern England, two Spaniards, one from northern England, two from Germany, our Romanian, and an Austrian.
We sat outside for a bit, enjoying German and Austrian wine we had brought with us. The house was huge, quiet, and welcoming.
It used to be an inn, built 500 years ago along a pilgrimage route that is now a popular biking route right in front of the building. During World War II, right up until the end, it hid Jews making their own secret pilgrimages out of Germany and to Switzerland. They told us about the neighbors house, which used to be a munitions storage, and how the Americans blew it up near the end of the war. The house was not damaged and the small, cute church (now owned by the son of the founder of Xenon lights—he paid $500,000 to restore it as it has hand-painted stuff in it) still stands.
In the morning, us and a few volunteers practiced yoga in the attic, a beautiful open space with skylights that flitted clear sunlight onto our faces as we meditated. “Good morning, now you are ready for our day,” said Marcus one of the Spaniards who also told us a great story happening upon a photographer and three naked women in the middle of the New Zealand outback—he joined the girls naked as they were doing a photo shoot for a “Nude Zealand” travel guide.
After amazing porridge (it needed a better name for the flavor), we said farewell with hugs, drove to a nearby lake for a killer view, and then drove 5 hours to Luzern. Ryan drove the whole time brilliantly through scores of tunnels.
Touring Luzern, where tourists have toured since the 18th century, is a step back into the city and we greeted it with a trip to the grocery store for an in-room picnic (it was really hot out there), a nice walking tour ala Rick Steves, and delicious locally-brewed beer along the river.
Note: we did pass a Police checkpoint where they were looking for toll-tags (I think). So, Ryan wins that argument although 50+ kilometers into Austria they were still advertising for they toll sticker.
Tomorrow, a day in Luzerne.
Tschüß!!
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