Innsbruck, Austria, is a former winter Olympic site and lovely little town. The golden roof on a house is listed as the current major tourist attraction, but I would disagree. The roof is nice, yes, yet the mountains are the big draw. The weather was perfect when I arrived and I planned on taking a few trams the next morning to the peaks looming over the city. I checked in to a great little hostel that was run out of a café. The room was huge and had a big curved couch and table in front of big bay windows. And as usual, the room came with a few hedonistic Austrailians to keep things interesting. They are great to talk with, but unless you like hangovers from hell, do not go out with them. Same goes for the Irish. I stayed in that evening.
I looked around the city a bit, took some pictures of the golden roof, ate some Austrian pastry, got a hair cut at an Arabic place, and bought groceries to make dinner in the hostel kitchen (spaetzel, speck, sauerbraten, and beer. YUM!). The next morning I woke up to rain…and the forecast was not good. So what to do? I had a great free breakfast (included with the room) at the café and then checked out and hopped a train to Slovenia. Luckily, I met Chad from Canada on the platform to Ljubljana, Slovenia and we became travel buddies for a while. Like most Canadians he was easy to spot; he had about four Canadian flags on his clothes, backpack, and hat. To be fair, he says that his family gave him those things with the flags on them rather than his choosing. The consensus among the travelers I have met is that most Canadians do not want to be mistaken for Americans. It is understandable, who has bad feelings toward Canadians?
