When you Wear your Dirndl to Dinner

For Ben's birthday, we went on a weekend trip to Hartberg with our friends, Johannes and Amy.  The trip has to be broken down into a few posts; we jammed a lot into the few days we were there.

First, we traveled from Salzburg to Weiner Neustadt.  We had to switch trains in Vienna, and man, we picked the wrong train to go on.  There were three different trains leaving for Wr Neustadt within ten minutes of each other, and we had to pick the one that stopped abruptly 10 km outside of our destination.  We had to exit the train and wait for a huge bus to drive us to another train station for us to finish our journey.  As we pulled up to the train station, we steeled ourselves, grabbed our suitcases, and prepared to pounce on anything or anyone who stood in our way.  The bus door opened and we sprinted for the train station.  Workers in reflective vests yelled, "Bahnsteig drei! Your train is waiting for you!"  We dashed to Bahnsteig drei as our fellow passengers were still getting off the bus.  As soon as we took the closest seats on the train, the doors closed and all of the older passengers from the previous train and the bus were stranded at this dinky train station for who knows how long!  I felt bad that the train didn't wait for them, but I also was tired and was done being hassled so I had to laugh at the situation.

So, we made it to Wr. Neustadt, and after a friendly Grüß from our friends and from Leinie, we boarded a train for the last leg of our journey.

 

There was a big ski competition on Friday, and Johannes wanted to watch it while on the train, but Leinie wanted some attention.  Too bad an American was the best at those Austrian slopes...

Actually, I don't care at all.  American myth: everyone loves sports.  American myth-buster: me!

So as not to recount everything, suffice it to say that we met Johannes' father at the train station; he showed us around his house, which is a testament to Austrian planning and to being environmentally friendly; and then it was time to go to a Bushenschank.  And what would three Americans and an Austrian wear to said Buschenschank?  Lederhosen und Dirndl, natürlich!

A Buschenschank is a restaurant that specializes in wine and farm-fresh ingredients.  The farm and the restaurant are usually owned by one family, which makes it easy for them to control the quality of their products.

I ordered a Käsestangerl, which I will forever remember how to pronounce because I pronounced one of the vowels like an American, and I was rightly corrected by the waiter.  It's a cheesy roll loaded with ham, peppers, and cheese.  It was delicious.  It was less than 4 Euro.  And I ate 80% of it.  Woof.  Ben had a Brettljause: salami, hams, cheese, horseradish, pickles, pepper aufstrich, eggs, tomatoes, thick bread, etc. etc. 

Johannes and Amy ordered a Schinkenteller, or a plate of different hams and toppings, and Sauer Bohnen, beans and onions drenched in vinegar.

*For more information on vinegar, read my blog later in the week! It can be delicious! Who knew?

We got some peculiar looks during our outing.  We walked into the restaurant, and it was like in a movie when someone walks into a party and the turntable screeches and everyone stares.  It's not common for people to wear Tracten in the winter, but we made an older woman who sat next to us happy.  She said that Trachten was going out of style, but the younger generation is bringing it back.  Well, glad to have charmed her and we had fun too.  P.S. Her dinner was a piece of heavy bread covered in schmaltz, or lard mixed with garlic and herbs.  Gulp.