Sunday, then, as the afternoon slowly dissolved noon, arrived at the train in Klagenfurt. In Villach, most of the passengers got off, with the remaining I had from the windows looked over the lake and made me so attuned to this childhood memory stage, because of course I had to shallow 60's movies with Roy Black and Saturday night TV shows that have been seen regularly at his grandmother (with oval, pink and white chocolates filled with peppermint drops [were called and how there's still today?] and then they took me sleeping, Child without that I noticed it in her bed), think, and brain hummed "the Rose of Lake Wörthersee" around enervating. In the "Packerl car", another cyclist, loaded with MTB and heavy backpack. Finally developing a climb in the Alps.
I received my next three weeks most faithful companion merciless and relentless: a sweltering sun on a sky-(later I suppose adria) blue sky, under the wegduckte Klagenfurt is dull and sluggish. Some tourists, some locals who probably had absolutely dire somewhere, for otherwise would be surely in a cool darkened living room of a Couch remained or had been sitting in a warm kitchen together around a table. I shot a first round on the tricycle through the set in one-way tied Inner City, saw something like a central square with a church or town hall, or both, and tourists, who photographed [photographing tourists were then further relentless companion in the next few weeks] and decided that my lackluster (for Klagenfurt am not ripped from the wheel) are sightseeing and let me make the tracked path to the east.
: The east since then led a shady street in a desolate industrial area weekend and then I was somewhere in the country in an easy up and down with Views of the Karawanken, and then ascending to the forest, passed by mountain bike riders, and down in a village in and through it, people probably looked behind me, clearly, as was so often down 'arrow-fast'. A tingling, because to much I would be firing some buried memories of a surprising sight in a beautiful light in, but that did not happen at all, but doubts began to rise at this or that distant view, "this castle back there, you were still determined times ? - Yes may be, the view looks familiar, but perhaps not "And somewhere a dog barking behind me..
Then the road went into a narrow path of, and I doubted my predetermined track, but all agreed and I drove to the St.Kanzian, first memory point. There we had children in our holiday (three-four were times we probably in Carinthia) bathed, one was jumping off the bridge into the water, had splashing (which is lucky when an air mattress was there), or swam at all, I had my brother once almost deeply moved, panicked, to a man who watched it, decided he jumped in to pull my brother setting to free me from my panic and our brothers and sisters to the first unsuspecting, then bewildered and finally return grateful parents. Compared to most was the hilly bank, and as I went now: Bustle. So there is still bathed, swam, sank, rescued. Cars, campsites, swimming pools, cars, fun bikes, cars. Since then more quickly, a place to pause and reflection was found.
But further stated: into what I actually recognized: west of the road a gentle wooded hills back (blue berries and someone that I remember singing "Yes we san there by bike!) and east Buchbrunn,
somehow crooked, white, but so beautiful, simple church with the weather cock on the tower and swallows, the evening aufgreregt drum rum or highly fluttered over it [and said someone on the basis of a swallow flying altitude the weather the next day]. And crickets in the dark, because the Church does not stand in the middle of a village surrounded by houses and roads, trees and benches and a cemetery, but hardly the heart of the existing village and therefore surrounded on three sides by fields and only on one side, and there was only one access road, which soon in a gravelly dirt road on left, two courtyards, and one of the two, who belonged to "the farmer" as my father said, and "the farmer" we made regularly for three weeks Summer vacation. As I stood with my first trike and photographed the church, then - somewhat shyly, hiding - the yard of a lot smaller than my memory had previously claimed, and therefore so was not a real court, perhaps. But otherwise, everything seemed to fit. Whether the rent or to tourists? It did not look it. Whether there lived a farmer? Even then it did not. As we watched the moon landing, got chicken pox, we saw three weeks noon ennui, if the parents had gone to bed (so we are not in the Audi in Carinthia and Slovenia, and once even in Italy, in Grado [God, that was great, why was possible for there not to spend the whole holiday?] were on the road), we smelled hay and animals in stables and manure heaps, drank the adults in the evening Slivowitz.
even thought I looked and in the fields along the road, because on which I had once put up about something angry and hurt to go away and was then, of course, but vice versa, in time, even before the parents sat down at the afternoon coffee table . And if I do not reverse that? Desire I had, now take the road to Eberndorf, the third stop of my trip memories, but dust and dirt from me stopped.
Instead, back on the main road, and as I was guided by a sign but in the fields, on a cycle route, namely, paved the created there has been. I followed her, went to the white elongated pin, and was fixed there. What I just remembered? At a butcher shop and, strangely, oddly enough there was the still, just closed today on Sunday, which was probably a flaw in my planning, because now I had to go in and desire to ask for a sausage. So I decided only to now be good to let the stuff of 40 years ago, here - I had thought at the planning - I would look for a room, but I left Eberndorf to continue in a south-easterly direction, then followed the boundary , near which the town signs auswiesen also the Slovenian name, against the will of Haider's Carinthia, as indeed is known. Little traffic Here, in one place the remains of a folk festival, benches, tables and stage were collected, and put away. Slowly, I was looking for an accommodation, but found nothing, went on instead to the first Loibach then the St. Margarethner brook, it was clear to the end that I was now only a stone's throw away from the former border crossing with Slovenia. Since I wanted to but the next day out, so I decided to Bleiburg to drive and to stay there. Three were
's surprises in the hotel : it was friendly and cheap, in the room I found the solution of an artist who was called as "the farmer" at that time, and on the stairs, I discovered in all kinds of pictures more or less prominent visitors also one of Artmann (and the second look after I with the landlady about it and now she had pointed out to me, even one by Shakespeare and by Krassnitzer, the " actor, you know "). Artmann was here but the times - in the great hall, which now stood my trike, many years ago, as the mother brought the house still. Also, I learned of the landlady. I strolled up and down the street, looking in shop windows of small galleries and craft shops nice and looked for a place on the road (for the evening was as mild as the evening before 40 Years) at the hotel restaurant. There was beer and add a delicious dinner. Young people who arrived by and by on bicycles, shared a large table, and one of them told of Paris, for, as he now lived. I liked everything very well.
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