This morning we found ourselves anchored at the sleepy little village of Engelhartszell. This is our final stop in Austria as we continue to make our way to Vilshofen, Germany where we’ll disembark, tomorrow morning.
Typical home in Engelhartscell, Austria
The village of less than a thousand people has few noteworthy features other than the mandatory church – in this case the Abbey of Engelhartszell, founded in the 13th century. Its history is not remarkable in that it has gone through several periods of decay, fire, and secular occupation. The original order of monks died out, and other orders moved in over the centuries, but later abandoned the site or dissolved the order. Most of the financial support came from other Abbeys in Austria and Germany. In more current times, there is a drive to be self-sustaining. To meet that objective, the monks produced beer, and recently, a bitter. There was no mention of the local population having provided financial support. The secular uses included a period as a private residence and a factory. During World War II the Gestapo confiscated the building and imprisoned or forced the monks to join the German military. They used the building for office space as well as a stable for horses. After the war, much of the church was restored by 25 surviving monks who returned from the war. Today the Trappist monks number just seven; they are aging and struggling to recruit younger monks.
Abbey of Engelhartszell
One of several skeletons on display in the Abbey
The church has a Haloweenish ambiance, which I attribute to several glass-windowed coffins containing skeletons. All it needed is some ghoulish background music to complete the scene.
Tante Greti’s Krämerei
Inside the small convenience store
Heidi, her daughter, and Roselie
Pushing some of this ‘dark’ church history aside, the village became one of our best experiences. Small groups of six or less, were invited to visit and spend time with a local family to get a sense of life in this part of the world. Our hosts included a mid-sixty year-old Heidi, her husband, and their late-twenties daughter. The family owned the building with a convenience shop and bistro on the lower level and the family living quarters on the upper floor. The shop, Tante (Aunt) Greti’s Krämerei, was originally owned by Heidi’s grand aunt. Heidi ran it until she retired three years ago. Their daughter, a.k.a. Crazy Cat Lady (I forgot her name), is an elementary school teacher in a nearby village, and lives in her own, separate space on the second floor. Heidi’s husband was the principal at the local elementary school. Last year they leased out the store and bistro, freeing Heidi to travel extensively – mostly with her daughter. After each trip she compiled and bound a photo album describing her adventure. Her favorites include New York and Los Angeles. Despite living a very quiet village life, they live large – continuing to explore and learn. All have their own office space with latest generation computers and communication equipment as their window into the world. They have a flair for collecting interesting art and decorating each room with a different theme – a different world, a different feeling. The kitchen area includes a floor to ceiling glass ‘white board’ that they use to plan trips, to brainstorm, as well as to create new recipes.
Heidi’s personal space to relax and read
Great artwork collected during their travels
After a tour of their home – great art they have collected from everywhere – they invited us to their favorite place, their garden. It is beautiful. It is a work of love. They have a family of ducks and a spectrum of local plants. They recently became interested in bee keeping, and built a beehive, learning as they go on how to keep the bees and harvest the honey.
The family garden
Time to sit and enjoy Heidi’s homemade strudel
Heidi offered us berry infused water that she had made, followed by the customary strudel – the best I had anywhere on this trip. To finish off, and to celebrate her birthday, we each had a shot of the locally made bitter liquor from the Abbey – powerful!
In support of the elementary school, the town built an educational park, which teaches children how water flows from the mountains into rivers (the Danube), and how the many locks along the river work. After walking through the park, it was time for some refreshment, as we prepared to return to our ship. What better place to indulge than Tante Greta’s? We bought a brick of local cheese, crackers, and beer to enjoy as we sat at the bistro’s picnic table in a grassy area across the small street.
Enjoying a snack from Tante Greta‘s
Just a few hundred feet down the narrow road is a sanatorium for the long-term care and treatment of patients with a range of conditions – both physical and mental.
We notice a young, disabled man in a partially reclined, battery-powered chair moving up the street to Tante Greti’s shop. Because of the steps, he could not enter the store, so the shopkeeper came out to take his order and brought him his package a few minutes later– he’s probably a regular and makes the trip daily. Leaving, he pivoted and motored over to where we were sitting. He moved in our direction. Should we acknowledge him? Should we make eye contact, which would signal that we’re prepared to interact with him? It always surprises me how feelings of discomfort rise up as we encounter someone who looks or behaves differently. Do we lack confidence in our ability to accommodate the difference? Do we acknowledge his infirmity, or pretend he doesn’t have it. Which alternative will not offend him? His initiative to approach gave us no recourse other than to return his smiling greeting. Cradled in his lap was the plastic bag holding a pack of cigarettes and a six-pack of a beverage. He introduced himself…Florian. We helped him light one of the cigarettes as we chided him about how bad smoking was for him. He just smiled and said he could live with that, but not without the smoke.
Visiting with Florian
Our conversation turned to his life today and where we lived. In his early thirties, Florian has limited movement with his arms and hands – none in the rest of his body, and he struggles to speak very slowly, with great effort. It was very arduous to understand him clearly. He is Canadian, an accountant, and has some family near by, but lives in the sanatorium. While on a trip to Austria, he was involved in an accident which resulted in his current state of paralysis. He didn’t volunteer the nature of the accident. He said that he misses humanity the most. People look at him more as a thing, rather than a person. Because he talks very slow, very labored, people assume that he is stupid, or mentally slow. He isn’t. He enjoys many things, but loves music. His favorite artist is Kurt Cobain (who died by suicide in 1994). He has all his music and listens to it every day. After finishing his cigarette, he was ready to return to his place, and thanked us for spending time and talking with him. As he wheeled away, we all took a moment to reflect just how fortunate we are.
The disparity of two lives, separated by just a hundred feet didn’t escape me. On one hand there is Heidi, who spent her life in a very small, simple village, yet is living large with her travels and access to the world through her internet window. On the other side, there is Florian, who lived large most of his life, but is now imprisoned in the very small world of this village, infirmed in his body, with limited access to a life he had at one time, yet projects a veridical demeanor.
Making our way to Passau, Germany
Once back on board, the ship headed for our next stop of the day in Passau, Germany – about three hours up river. Sitting quietly on the sun deck, I had time reflect the time we spent with Florian. This chance encounter was a real gift. It has stayed with me.
Approaching Passau
Passau, located just across the Austrian border in German, has a population of about 50,000 people. It is situated at the confluence of three rivers – the Danube, the Inn, and Ilz rivers, and dates back to the second century B.C.
People enjoying a holiday picnic in the town’s park
The picturesque city lies in Germany’s far southeast corner. It was originally an ancient Roman colony. During the 17th century, the town was almost completely destroyed by fire and then rebuilt in the Baroque style. Beginning in the Renaissance period it became known as the largest and finest manufacturer of bladed weapons. To this day, a blade made in Passau carries a reputation of excellence.
Dressed to party, with beer in hand
We had only about an hour to explore the old part of town with its cobblestone streets and sidewalks. Most of the shops were closed since it was a holiday weekend, with revelers everywhere, dressed in traditional German attire – lederhosen for men and traditional German drindle for the women, each carrying a bottle or stein of beer.
Returning to the ship as the sun began to set, we made way to Vilshoven, the final destination on our Danube river journey.
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