Introduction to the Alps Guanshan Ferry - Crossing the Alps

In the early morning of the seventh day of the journey, the car of the "Alpine Tour Group" left St. Veit, a small town in southern Austria. We entered St. Veit at dusk, misty and misty. We were in a hurry. Of course, there is not enough time for me to fully explore the attractions of this small town. I wandered around the streets for more than an hour before dinner. The scenery on the streets had a very different charm than the historic city of Vienna, a cosmopolitan city. The exterior walls of the Dorint Rogner Hotel Zodiac, where I stayed, were painted with bright geometric patterns and colorful colors. Although the scenery of St. Veit is only a fleeting glimpse in my mind, the appearance of the hotel left an indelible impression. When I said goodbye to St. Veit in the morning, although I didn't feel the emotion of farewell, I still felt a bit like "the mind is wandering" and wandering around the world, like a floating duckweed. Soon the car had entered the hilly area at the foot of the Alps. On the mountain top, the golden wind rustles, the deep forests are dense, and the water and trees are clear. My eyes and ears are completely new. I left Switzerland a few days ago, passed through Liechtenstein, entered Austria, and saw the mountains surrounded by water. Alpine scenery, compared with the present, is similar but also very different.

The Alps run from the Gulf of Genoa on the Mediterranean, across the borders of Italy and France into Switzerland, across Switzerland, Liechtenstein, and Austria, and extend to southern Germany and Slovenia. Lying on the ridge of Central Europe, it adds countless beautiful scenery to these mountainous countries. For example, Switzerland and Tyrol in western Austria are full of thousands of rocks and thousands of valleys. Lakes, large and small, are dotted here and there, as if hundreds of bright mirrors and thousands of hectares of colored glaze are inlaid in these strange and unexpected scenery. There is no lack of plains in the mountainous areas, with green grass and cattle and sheep all over the mountains. Therefore, the famous products here are chocolate candies, cheese, woolen coats, leather... etc. In this vast grassland, the cool wind at the end of the day blew across the ground, and all the weeds lay low. Looking at the sky, flocks of cattle and sheep are approaching. The meaning of this painting was composed into music and sung by General Hu Lüjin of the Northern Dynasty: "...the sky is like a poor house, covering the surrounding fields. The sky is blue, the fields are vast, and the wind blows the grass, and cattle and sheep are low."

Tailu The county dates back to the Hasburg dynasty of Hasburg which was merged with Austria in 1363. In 1493, Maximilian, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire and King of Austria, used this county as a military base to expand his territory and develop his power, so Terur was the political cradle of Austria. At the beginning of the 19th century, when Napoleon came to dominate Europe, he based his troops on this county and transferred it to the vassal state of Bavaria. It was not until Napoleon's defeat in 1815 that it returned to its original owner. It was almost ten o'clock in the morning when our tourist bus stopped near the railway station in Lienz, the capital of East Terur. The leader of the team, Fredy, a fat guy from Terur, announced: "We have half an hour of rest and free activities here." Lienz is a city with a special political identity in Austria. After the First World War, the Austro-Hungarian Empire disintegrated, and a large piece of land south of Terur was forcibly taken by Italy as a reward for joining the British, French, and American alliance to defeat Germany, Austria, and Turkey. As a result, East Tyrol is isolated outside the country and no longer borders Tyrol itself. Therefore, Austria and Italy have an agreement: the train from Lienz to the provincial capital Inn***ruck must pass through the Italian border.

I got out of the car and stepped into a building filled with shops, quite similar to shopping malls in big American cities. One of the coffee shop counters is filled with all kinds of desserts. I have tasted a lot of exquisite candies and cakes in Switzerland and Austria this week, and I can't resist them, and I don't care about the consequences of a big belly. I chose a piece of "Black Forest" and a cup of strong coffee. After paying, I was in a panic. There were no empty seats in the lobby and I didn't know where there could be enough seats. When I was hesitating, not far away, a tall, thin old man with white hair and gold-rimmed glasses suddenly stood up, greeted me with a smile, and said to me in fluent English with a slight accent, "Friend, come and have a dinner with me." "I thanked him and sat down. I wanted to chat with him for a while, but his attention had returned to the newspaper. I secretly wondered who this old man was? Let us speculate like Sherlock Holmes. He is elegantly dressed, gentle in behavior, and speaks fluent English. He must be an educated and "gentle" person. The text in the newspaper was not in German, but probably in Slavic. The conclusion was that the old man came from neighboring Slovenia. My train of thought was interrupted by the thundering Italian words spoken by my neighbors. They were two sturdy Italian truck drivers holding beers and talking boldly as if no one else was watching. The old Slovenian man drank his last sip of tea, stood up and said goodbye to me: "I have to catch the train, thank you for keeping me company." As soon as he left, a young man with shaggy hair sat on the old man's seat and touched his pocket. He showed me a deck of cards and said in English with a strong French accent: "Play a few hands of poker with me, twenty Swiss francs a hand." I told him that he never gambled, and he immediately left angrily. Then came a woman in her twenties holding a baby girl about two years old. The crisp German was like an oriole coming out of the valley: "Sweetheart, ask this uncle if we can sit across from him?" The blond girl smiled sweetly and had a pair of big blue eyes, as bright as crystal.

I suddenly realized that Lienz is a border town, so I met people of four different nationalities in just fifteen minutes. This coffee shop is simply a showcase of different nationalities! After finishing the cake, I walked a few steps and found myself in a vast square, facing a long street with no end in sight. The houses along the street are short, and many evergreen shrubs and geraniums with flowers of different colors are planted in front of the doors. This small town is extremely elegant. I complained that the tour group did not allow me to linger longer and had to rush on the journey.

Lienz is in a valley surrounded by mountains. After a short drive, we entered the Dolomites, a mountainous area with mountains of limestone. The Dolomites are a well-known wonder in the Alps. The painter Leonardo da Vinci used these mountains as the background to set off Mona Lisa's smile. On these dark green peaks that stand as steep as a thousand feet, there is a layer of limestone with a pinkish yolk, with rows of jagged like crocodile teeth, reaching into the sky and dry clouds blocking the sun. A long waterfall flows from the sky between the peaks, breaking the boundary between the green mountains on both sides like a white line. I borrowed a poem from the Yuan Dynasty poet Huang Geng to describe this scene: "The mountain swallows up the sun, and the water cuts off the cloud flow." The waterfall pours into the stream with lingering blue water, which contrasts with the white clouds on the mountainside, making the clouds and water even more vast. The main color of this endless scenery is green, but several kinds of white are inserted: the clouds on the mountainside are white; the snow on the peak is white; the waterfall is white; the waves stirred up by the boulders in the stream are white; The wisps of smoke rising from the chimneys of the sparse houses in the mountains are also white. It's like beating a few drums and shaking a few wind chimes within a beautiful tune. How harmonious and pleasing to the eye! It's exactly this: "The winding paths follow the flowing water, the green smoke is hidden in the flying springs, all the mountains are included in the painting, and there are no trees that tower to the sky." I have the opportunity to see the wonders of the Dolomites in my energetic years. It is truly worthy of my life.

Less than an hour later, we have entered the Italian border. Because Austria and Italy both belong to the Great European Economic Federation, there is no obstruction to the road. There is no need to go through customs. There is only a big sign "Italia" erected on the roadside. The tour leader Fredy is well versed in Austrian history and has a strong sense of local sentiment. He passionately explained to us that this place is Alto Adige, a province in Italy. It was originally the South Tyrol of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. It has been in a foreign country for more than 80 years, but its folk customs The residents still speak German and live in a Germanic style. When Mussolini came to power, he once attempted to assimilate the residents here, immigrating a large number of Italians, encouraging them to intermarry with the Germanic people, and Italianizing all city and street names, including personal names. So Johann became Giovanni, Heinrich became Enrico, Ludwig became Luigi, and Karl became Carlo. (I will note an interesting stop here by the way. On the eve of the end of the journey, I gave Freddy a small account and an envelope at the Engelberg Hotel in Switzerland. It quoted a sentence from Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet", but changed the title to "Oh, Alfredo, parting is such a sweet sorrow". Fredy accepted it and smiled: "Mr. Zheng, you are funny enough, I don't mind being called For Alfredo, but I will not become Italian!”) Under the implementation of Mussolini’s policies, almost half of the large cities in South Terur were purely Italian. "The scenery of the mountains and rivers remains the same, but the people in the city have mostly changed." This is a continuation of the Dolomites, and the scenery is no different from that of the outskirts of Lienz. I silently admired the wonders of the world in the car, seeing the vast space where kites flew and fish leaped, and I deeply felt that many people in this world are bound by the bridle of fame and fortune. Too late! No wonder the poet Wu Meicun in the early Qing Dynasty, in order to make a living, broke his integrity and wrote a self-deprecating poem, "I mistakenly spent my whole life as an official." The two sentences in the neck couplet are the most vigilant: "Songyun dares to be tired of the wind, frost and hardship, and the fish and birds still think about the vastness of the world." How he envied the freedom and freedom of the fish and birds in the world. The pines and bamboos that can grow in the mountains and fields are worth suffering from wind, frost, rain and dew. Compared with the shackles of the mortal world, the empty mountains and rivers naturally inspire endless philosophy!

The tourist bus followed the winding mountain road and saw a simple tomb in a secluded part of the winding path. Although I don’t understand Kanyuology, I also know that the feng shui of this place is excellent. I wonder if the underground people have really found the dragon’s lair? Fredy said that he was an officer in the Austro-Hungarian Empire during World War I and was from South Terur. He was killed in the Italian territory of the southern battlefield during the fierce fighting between Austria and Italy. He ordered the remains to be transported back to his homeland to fulfill his wish to die in a foreign land and return his soul to his hometown. But the biggest historical irony is that when he was laid to rest, South Terur had been ceded to Italy, and his hometown suddenly became a foreign land. When I was young, I read the short story "The Last Lesson" by French national literary giant Alphones Daudet, which describes the state of mind of the local residents when Alsace was ceded to Prussia after France's defeat and French was taught for the last time. At the same time, I remembered that the patriotic poet Lu You of the Southern Song Dynasty wrote two poems for the residents of the Yellow River Basin who were trapped in the Jin Kingdom: "The remaining people shed tears in the dust, and look south to the king's division for another year." South Terur has been reduced to a foreign land for more than 80 years, but residents still remember their homeland and their Germanic culture is still fresh in their minds.

No wonder Fredy, the team leader from Terur, spoke of this sad history with righteous indignation and colorful words! The people of South Terur are really helpless in life!

It was almost noon when we took our second short break that morning, on the shores of Misurina Lake, which has a steep terrain and is surrounded by cliffs and rocks. Perhaps this is the high plateau of the Alps. The shallow water near the lake has formed layers of ice. At this time, the wind was blowing and it was raining lightly. The water in the lake was rippling and there were gentle waves. It was really like "the autumn water waves across the lake, and the distant mountains appear in black". It's probably quite cold, and these rain and wind flakes have turned into ice lines. Mr. and Mrs. Rick Wong, who came from Singapore, were very excited with their young son and their old mother. This was the first time they saw ice and snow, and they picked up ice cubes and played with them as snowballs. I stood in the small pavilion to take shelter from the wind and snow, and fully enjoyed the scenery of "cold current and snow-covered mountains opposite the door".

Have lunch in the mountain town of Cortina d'Ampezzo at 1pm. I want to ask Fredy how many Italian coins he needs to exchange for enough? He replied: "We are only in Bolzano, the provincial capital, for one night. Dinner is in a hotel and is included by the tour group. Lunch is worth about twelve dollars." So I exchanged Italian coins worth fifteen dollars at the bank in town. This town is a ski center and once hosted the Winter World Games. At a glance, it looks quite deserted, maybe the ski season hasn't started yet. Fredy recommended a restaurant famous for selling Italian pizza. There are many small rooms inside. There were thirty-five people in the tour group, and I was the only one left alone. Where is the best place to sit? While hesitating, Vern Curtis, who was in the front room, waved to me and invited me in. There is a long table that can accommodate ten people. He is a Mormon and was traveling with his wife, three sisters and three brothers-in-law. I hurriedly said: "You are a family of eight and are extremely friendly. How can you let me, a stranger, intervene?" He said: "We have long recognized you as family. Don't say anything. I will host this lunch. You are ours." "Dignified guests." During this week, we visited Hitler's Eagle's Nest Villa in Germany, Sch?brunn Palace in Vienna, and the Habsburg dungeon in Kapuchin Abbey. They were very surprised that I was familiar with Germany and Austria. History, so the conversation was very congenial. Vern served as the president of a large American company before retiring. He lived in Germany and Switzerland, so he is proficient in German. We took the menu in English, Vern and the waitress spoke in German, and ordered famous Italian dishes. He also ordered three bottles of red wine and poured a full glass for me: "Today we are destined to meet each other in a different place. To cherish this rare opportunity, let's drink a toast!" I don't drink wine at all, but I can't resist such hospitality. "Don't be intoxicated in front of the bottle. You and I are both strangers." Then it became clear. The blazing fire in the fireplace made my shoulders and back extremely warm, but it was not as strong as the red wine that boiled in my blood, and these unexpected travel companions gave me the affection in my heart. But when I think of "wandering to the end of the world, thinking endlessly, and meeting each other in a hurry", it is inevitable to feel melancholy and dejected. The condensation of time and space can create some short-lived but true friendships. I have encountered them many times in my life's travel experience. (See Berlin, Riga II Travel Notes).

Bolzano, the provincial capital of Alto Adige, is the only Italian city I have seen that speaks German. The street name means German and is bilingual. This is an quaint town. The architectural style of the buildings is no different from that of other small Austrian towns such as St. Veit and Lienz. Residents converse in German, Strauss's waltz music floats in the air, and stalls selling sausages and sour cabbage are set up on the streets. There are many sidewalks on the street under a row of long arches. I also saw some in Berne, Switzerland and Graz, Austria. It was clear that Mussolini's Italianization in Bolzano was a total failure. This extreme policy triggered many popular uprisings here. The Germanic and Italian tribes cannot celebrate each other, let alone intermarry. After the mid-20th century, Rome adopted a tolerant policy and allowed Alto Adige autonomy. Bolzano primary and secondary schools resumed German and Austrian history courses, so that the two ethnic groups could coexist peacefully. So Bolzano devoted itself to the development of industry and commerce and became the city with the highest living standard in Italy, surpassing Rome and Venice. There are always two avenues in Italian cities named after Garibaldi and Mazinni, the heroes who unified Italy. But there are two avenues here, one is Via Alto Adige (also called Sudtirolstrasse in German, that is, South Terur Road), and the other is Via Andreas Hofer. He is the hero of South Terur under Austria, and his life story It's a song and a cry.

Andreas Hofer was born in 1767 in a small town in the southern Alps, St. Leonhard in Südterur (renamed San Leonardo after Italy took control), fifty miles north of Bolzano. He was originally an innkeeper in the Alps. Napoleon transferred Austria's Tyrur County to his vassal Bovelia. Hofer organized a strong peasant team to launch the Tyrur War of Independence and fight to the death against Napoleon's forces. In 1809, he severely damaged the French-protecting coalition forces three times in the southern suburbs of Innsbruck, the capital of Innsbruck. It is a pity that his struggle was not supported by Vienna. After being defeated in the fourth fierce battle, he fled deep into the Alps. In 1810 he was betrayed by his companions.

Napoleon deported him to Mantua, Italy, where he was shot. A few days ago I was at the Inn *** ruck without intending to visit two Hofer relics. After we visited the church of Wilten Abbey, I discovered that there was a stone statue of him in military uniform nearby. It turned out that this was the town of Bergisel where Hofer fought a bloody battle with Napoleon. It's a pity that I don't have time to visit the museum. There must be many cultural relics about him. After lunch, I accidentally wandered into the Hofkirche church in Inn *** ruck. There is his sarcophagus on the corner wall. Hofer's hometown has already entered Italy, and his bones can be buried in Terur itself. He is much happier than the World War I officer who lived on a mountain road. Hofer, the spirit of heaven will surely comfort you. Later I asked Fredy: "Why didn't you point out Hofer's burial place earlier?" He retorted: "How did I know you knew so much Austrian history." I saw an avenue named after him in Bolzano. Being able to make a name for himself in an enemy country at that time means that Hofer will be immortalized forever.

That night, we stayed at the Park Hotel Laurin, the oldest and most luxurious hotel in Bolzano. It is located in a park, surrounded by water, trees, birds and flowers. The hotel room furnishings are all Belle Epoque style, the luxurious and decadent style of Paris during World War I. The walls are made of redwood boards, and some works by famous painters are hung on them. It is said that this hotel has hosted many historical celebrities, including Archduke Franz Ferdinand of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, whose assassination in Sarajevo ignited the gunpowder line of World War I, King Leopold of Belgium, and British Commander-in-Chief Montgomery during World War II. These historical relationships gave rise to my fascination with this old hotel. My room is small in size, facing the park, with sparse flowers and trees, and quite peaceful. There is plenty of time for me to go shopping before dinner.

The center of Bolzano is the Walther Square, marked by the cathedral built around the thirteenth century. When I passed by, it was past opening hours and the door was locked. The city appearance is very simple and unpretentious, unlike the streets of Rome, Milan, and Venice, where the shops are busy attracting tourists. It seems that most of the shops supply daily necessities to local residents. Entering a hardware and sundry store, I saw an iron oil bottle. The exterior was painted with a rural scene and full of local flavor. The Italian coins worth fifteen US dollars in my pocket were intact because I was invited to lunch by Vern Curtis. After looking at the price, it was about seventeen dollars. I took the bottle of oil, went to the proprietor, gave it to him, and added three dollars to it, and that was enough. The proprietor was a middle-aged man. He collected all the Italian coins, wrapped the oil bottle, returned the three dollars to me, and spoke to me in German. It was probably because I was a tourist that he received special treatment. I was very moved. This situation would never have happened in Rome or Neapolis. After walking for more than ten blocks, we entered an alley. The first one was a leather shop. There was a dark brown leather bag in the window. The color was very similar to the one I saw in the lobby of the hotel in Assisi (the hometown of Saint Francis) last year. I was hesitant at the time and missed the opportunity. I went inside to inquire. A young girl who spoke some English and had a very good service attitude came out and showed me a leather bag. The price was listed in US dollars, which was two hundred and seventy US dollars. I agreed to buy it and immediately paid two traveler's checks worth one hundred yuan and one fifty yuan, and planned to give her another twenty yuan in cash. She quickly said: "That's enough. You are a foreigner, so you don't have to pay taxes." She also gave me a delicate ball pen as a souvenir. The folk customs of Bolzano are so simple! In Venice, more than 300 miles southeast of here, it may take many times of bargaining to complete a deal. Dinner that night was in the small dining room on the second floor of the hotel. The decoration was classical and gorgeous, as if we had traveled back a hundred years in time. Waiters wear white uniforms with gold buttons. The main course was grilled beef steak, which tasted far better than what we tasted in various cities in Italy last year.

I said goodbye to Bolzano the next morning. It was a stormy and miserable day. Before returning to Switzerland, the original trip was planned to take a short break in Merano, the ancient capital of Terur. Fredy said that Merano is full of smooth cobblestones or muddy roads, making it difficult to walk in the rain. It would be bad if the old man slipped his legs, so he had to sacrifice the sightseeing in Merano. Not far from Merano is San Leonardo, the hometown of Andreas Hofer. Of course, it was hard for me to ask Fredy to take a detour there in the rain to pay his respects. Soon after passing Merano, the car had to climb an increasingly steep slope and cross the Alps again. When it reached the Swiss border, the car stopped and had to go through customs this time because Switzerland is not a member of the Greater European Economic Federation. In fact, I am also eager to get a stamp from the customs to prove that I have left the economic zone so that I can send the certificate back to the Swarovski head office in Inn***ruck and get back the prepaid sales tax for the crystal cobra.

We entered Graubunden, the largest county in Switzerland. The residents are the original indigenous people in the mountains. Unlike the residents of other counties, their ancestors immigrated to Switzerland from Germany, France and Italy. The language of this county is Romansch, derived from ancient Roman Latin.

Mussolini was in charge of the Italian government and attempted to forcibly incorporate Graubunden into the Italian territory. The Swiss Berne government declared Romansch to be the fourth official script without permission, to put an end to Mussolini's ambition and destroy his reason for believing that Romansch was an Italian dialect. The car passed through the Botanical Park in Engadine, with dense trees and pleasant scenery. Before noon, we arrived at the summer resort of St. Moritz. This is a mountain city surrounded by mountains and lakes. The arc-shaped lake looks like A sapphire is embedded in Pangu. There are many luxury hotels on the lakeside, including the Belvedere Hotel where we live. My room has a small terrace, equipped with tables and chairs, overlooking the lake. The quiet water is full of emotion. It is raining. The mountains in the distance across the lake look desolate. The trees by the lake are shaking, showing an infinite chill. It is " The autumn wind filled the trees, and my clothes felt cold; the mountains were misty, and the water was rippling. "I put on a raincoat and went out to look for food. Fredy canceled the extra show, the carriage ride on the glacier, because of the wind and rain. After lunch, we had to walk around the city on our own. The city center is Plaza da Scuola, and the shops around it sell many priceless goods. No wonder St. Moritz is known as the "rich man's playground." This is a mountain city, and many streets have stone steps up and down. The raindrops were getting heavier and my shoes were soaked. I staggered along until I reached a park. There was a sloping stone pillar that could be compared to the Leaning Tower of Pisa in Italy. The inscription was in the four official languages, but of course I couldn't read it. Pu Songling, the author of "Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio", is a traveler with a lot of experience. He once wrote a poem during his travels. Two of the lines are "Thousands of miles of wind and dust on the north and south road, and a coop of mist and rain shorten the long pavilion." After the long journey, the road is covered with dust. Bitterness, I feel the same way. That night, Fredy announced that the original route was to cross the Italian Lake District and enter southern Switzerland. Due to wind and rain, the lakes were overflowing and landslides caused many mountain passes and roads along the lake to be closed. The itinerary was changed to Geneva and Mont Blanc in the Changbai Mountains of France. Details will be left in the next travel article "Geneva is a city with mountains and half a city with lakes.

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