The hiiiills are alive with the sound of . . . K̷̗͎͍̀̈́̑̀̏̅̈́͗̏̅̐ṙ̸͎͓̗̝̺̯̘͙̇͆͑͛̂͘̕̕͘͜͝á̶̧̫̠͖͙̋̎̒̾̓͒m̶͚̺͉̯̹͆̇̃̐́̒͋̈͒͑̎͆͝p̴̺̠̜͍̗̦̣̗̰̲͂̐̕ư̷̝̰̲͕̲͍̩͕͕̪͚̯̺̪̇̊́ͅs̶͇̥̖̞̼̪̥͕̪͙̼̤͍̭͍̔̋
Hmm… That’s not quite right. Let’s try again.
Do, a deer, a female deer
Ķ̸̥̠̙͚̐̒̿͒̀̇͆̓͠r͙̝̣̜͓̪̩̍͒̆̇̊a̷̳͈̤̙͍̤̿͆̾͜͝͠͞ṃ̢̧͉̜̘͋͐̓̃͞p̼̳͓̙̻̲̺̯̠̍̋͛̏͊̍͗͛͑ͅu̷̡̺̻̝̯̤̅̈́͌̆̋͜͜s̼͍̙̪̖͇̾̈́̔̅͊̏̍͊͑͠,̷̛̲͉͎̱̯͚̼̹̻̀̉̐̓͡ ả̶̡̙̝̩̱̜̼̐́̍̅̚̚ d͉̦̺͂̿̂̓͋͗͜͢ȩ̵̲͈̖̗̀͋̓̔̀͒̓̔̌m̡̛̛͈͈̮̥̹̔̂͊̃ǒ̶̟͉̝͙͖̠̠̳͂͂̒͘͟͢n̠̱͇͍̼͋̆́̾̇͋͘̚̕͞,̵̡͙͉̳̠͚̞͌̔̈̍͘̚͟͝ ȁ̰͎̪̩̤̆̐̀̑̏͠͡͞ Ĉ̴̛͍̭̟̳͕̟̥̺̈́̅̾̑͛̀͒͜ͅḩ̝̠̦̩̙̇̓̒̅̋̀͗̈͢r̨͇̗̳͍̲̤͔̥͍͆̈́͆́́̀i̥̣̹̬̫̿̃͊̄̎͢s̻̠̘͍̗͇̆̿̒̍̀̈̅̇̕̚t̡͈̣̼̙̩̩̣̘͋̓͋͌̎m̢̮͇̩̖̞̑́̃͂̇͒̀̽͟͟ͅa̵̢̛̲͉̟̍̎̍͘͢s̞̮̮̟͔̱̱͑͐͌͌͋͢͢͡ d̨͈͎͈̖͖͍͓͚͌́̆̾̑̊̐̿͜ȇ̖͙̗̮̥̱͉͎̒̑̌̊̈́m̛͍̜̭͍̼̈̆͗͂́̍͜͢ợ̶͕̫̗̼͓͈̞̯̽͂̍͌̓͑ņ̹͖̗͑̐͒̃̅̒̃̿̾͆͢
Yikes!
Salzburg is known for being the location where The Sound of Music was filmed. They also have a weird obsession with some guy called Mozart. I visited for neither of those reasons, although I did watch The Sound of Music at my hostel, since they play it EVERY NIGHT.
No no, I was not in Salzburg for music nor musicals, unless you count the clanging of bells and the screams of naughty children as music, which I suppose I do.
It’s a good thing that I was visiting Salzburg for an interesting seasonal event, cause it’s kinda boring here. It’s a beautiful city, and there’s plenty of history and things of interest. But after everywhere else I’ve visited recently, Salzburg lacks character. It’s too pleasant. There’s no grit or grime. Sorry Salzburg.
I still had a nice time here, short though it was. I walked up a couple hills, saw some buildings, relaxed. Winter is a nice time to visit as there are several Christmas markets in town, where you can buy Christmas-y things and, most importantly, mulled wine to keep you warm. It’s just a shame there was no snow to accentuate the holiday mood.
But no, I was not in Salzburg for the Christmas markets, spooky as rampant consumerism may be. I was in Salzburg for Krampus.
Krampus is a traditional character throughout the Alps. He is a demon who comes in December and beats naughty children with his stick. On Krampusnacht, December 5th, hordes of people parade through the streets dressed as Krampus, wearing intricately carved wooden masks and carrying bundles of sticks with which they beat the spectators.
Parade isn’t really the right word. It’s called Krampuslauf, which means Krampus-run. It’s a little like a parade. I stood in the cold and dark along the route, awaiting the arrival of the demons. In the distance cowbells rang out dully in the night, but they were not attached to cattle, they were a warning of what was to come.
Then they appeared. Goat-like demons with horrible faces rampaged down the street, eyeing the crowd for their victims. And then they were upon us. Screams rang out in the crisp night air as the Krampuses fell upon the crowd, their bundles of sticks lashing out and cracking against us. Some stood perfectly still, staring with ominously glowing eyes before lurching forward when least expected.
Okay, so they only hit people in the legs, and not too hard for the most part, but otherwise my description is quite sound. For half an hour this went on, as I alternated between being beaten and laughing uproariously when people next to me were beaten, all while trying to get some photos. Many Krampi stopped to let people take photos with them, and they shook hands with little children, or knelt down to give them a closer look at their masks. And then it was over.
And whither then? 