Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Vienna to Linz - Sat., 6 Oct 2012

This is Melk Abbey - about an hour directly west of Vienna.  It was built between 1702 and 1736.  As with many historical sites in Europe, it was difficult to get far enough away to get a picture.  I had to go across the valley into someone's cornfield (notice the cornstalks at the right) to get this shot.
Entering the grounds, you can't see much of the Abbey, but the grounds are beautiful as well.
The color is quite unusual, but one article I read said that this was the cheapest color of paint at the time is was first built.
Five minutes from Melk Abbey is the contrasting Schönbühel an der Donau (Schönbühel on the Donau River).  At first, I was puzzled because I thought Melk Abbey and Schönbühel Castle were on the Danube River.  It was only after our trip that I realized that the Danube River is only called "Danube" in English (from the Latin "Danubius").  The "Danube" flows though Germany, Austria, Slovakia, Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, Bulgaria, Moldova, Ukraine, and Bulgaria and NONE of them call it the "Danube."  They call it "Donau, Dunaj, Dunarea, Donava, Duna, Dunav," etc., but not Danube.  We've been in Vienna, Budapest, and Bratislava -- all famous cities on the Danube -- and this was the first I realized that none of them called it that.
Next, we drove to the Mauthausen Concentration Camp -- near Linz.  We had driven here on a previous trip, but arrived just after closing time.  Alice was really disappointed that we hadn't gotten to go inside, so I made sure we got here plenty early this time.  (Alice likes to look at every picture and read every sign.)
It is a huge complex with rows of barracks that have been preserved/restored.
Many of the signs were in German only -- but the meaning was clear.
From the Concentration Camp, the "Stairs of Death" are visible (center of picture).  There was a granite quarry at the bottom and starving prisoners were forced to carry blocks (weighing as much as 110 lbs.) up the 186 steps.  Many didn't survive.  Ironically (as happens many times in Europe), right beside a horrific landmark is a peaceful little farm or town.