Friends, I’ve just had a longish stretch in Salzburg, doing some work at the festival, and I thought I’d jot you some notes. I’m not going to throw any music criticism at you — I’ll do some of that in the next National Review, and even more in the next New Criterion — or rather, the October New Criterion. (In the September issue, I have a chronicle on the Mostly Mozart Festival, held here in New York.) But Salzburg is so rich and interesting, music aside, I thought I’d dilate a bit (“dilate” being one of the many words I associate with Bill Buckley).

(By the way, once I was heading off to Salzburg, and he said, “Say hello to music for me!” Quite possibly, he loved music more than words. Which reminds me: Vikram Seth, a walking literary genius among us, once wrote, “Music to me is dearer even than speech.”)

I should probably be mouthing off about war and peace, prosperity and poverty, Republicans and Democrats . . . But I’ve spent a career mouthing off about those. I think I’ll do Salzburg for a few days, and soon enough be back atop my soapbox.

What’s to like about Salzburg? Nothing. Unless you like glorious views, beautiful buildings, delicious food, pretty girls, high culture, first-class hiking . . . I could go on (and will). When I first went to Salzburg, I had a heretical thought — heretical, because I was a student once in Florence, and was devoted to the place and its myth. (I do not mean “myth” in a bad sense.) My heretical thought was, “It’s as good as Florence.” I was later tempted to revise that to “better.”

Have a picture — just a little cellphone job: Salzburg near twilight, here.

For several years, I stayed in a hotel just around the corner from the house in which Mozart was born. Now I stay just around the corner from the house where he grew up (on the other side of the river). I have never set foot in either place. Mozart resides in his music, really, not in those houses. You would think that historical curiosity would impel me — but no. Don’t know why. Just down from the house in which Mozart grew up is the house in which Christian Doppler was born. Has no effect on me. (Buh-dum.)

Walking on the Mönchsberg one morning, I see a couple of American girls, pedaling bikes. One, giddily, is singing, “Doe, a deer . . .” I wonder how many Americans have done that since The Sound of Music came out. Hundreds? Thousands?

Stephen Costello, an American tenor, tells me he has taken the Sound of Music tour. “Not worth it,” is his verdict.

Many Austrians — many Salzburgers — I have met over the years pride themselves on their indifference to, and ignorance of, The Sound of Music. They even profess not to know the song “Edelweiss.” Maybe they’re telling the truth.

As the festival unfolds, I meet quite a few readers of National Review, and of The New Criterion. I meet them as I’m conducting public interviews, attending dinners — just making the rounds. Some people are closeted: are closet conservatives. Their eyes dart around as they whisper, “Actually, I read you on politics, not just on music.” But others are out and proud. One couple comes to one of the interviews. The husband says, “I just wanted to see what you looked like!” I say, “I could have sent you a picture — you didn’t have to come all the way to Salzburg.” (Again, buh-dum.)

Daniel Barenboim is ever political — and, naturally, Salzburg has invited him to give a speech: not just to conduct an orchestra or play the piano, but give a speech. Barenboim is the type to give a speech anyway. He says in Salzburg, “Music is anything but an ivory tower.” What he means is, “I’m going to mouth off, and you’re going to listen — just because I was born with musical talent, though I may not have a political brain in my head.” According to a paper, Barenboim tells the crowd, “If Israel honestly wants peace — a real, lasting peace and not just a superficial one which creates a platform for vague negotiations — then, in order to move towards Palestine, it will have to acknowledge all the factions that exist there.” I guess he means Hamas.

Oh, Israel acknowledges Hamas, all right: acknowledges that Hamas is dedicated to killing as many Israelis as it can, before it destroys the entire state. Sometimes clarity of thought means that you recognize when a person or group is unappeasable.

Would you like a definition of “safe”? I offer one: “Knocking Israel to an audience in Austria.”

I’m glad to see Angela Merkel attending a concert. She’s just there, another face in the crowd. No fuss, no muss. Later, a festival official tells me that the chancellor had only two bodyguards with her: two. Contrariwise, Hillary Clinton, when she was First Lady, practically shut the place down, with her security.

Well, maybe we overdo it. But when there’s a problem: It appears we underdo it. These are tricky questions.