Salzburg, for Real

I ALWAYS found it faintly irritating when people collared me and began expatiating on their visits to Salzburg. So many superlatives crowded together had a bad effect, like rubbing velvet the wrong way. The medieval city was so charming; the surrounding mountains were so beautiful; the ubiquitous music was so captivating. Dirndls, Mozart, The Sound of Music—genugl Enough already. It gets cloying, like being presented with an extra-large Salzburger Nöckerln after too much Wiener schnitzel.

That was before my wife and I actually went to Salzburg a couple of weeks ago. This medieval city, bisected by the glittering Salzach river and replete with a crenellated fortress and Renaissance churches every 15 feet, is picture-book charming. The surrounding Alpine peaks, like some bespoke illustrations of the sublime, are breathtakingly beautiful. And the music—most of it, anyway—is utterly captivating.

About the Author

Roger Kimball

Mr. Kimball is publisher of Encounter Books, and co-editor and publisher of The New Criterion.

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I ALWAYS found it faintly irritating when people collared me and began expatiating on their visits to Salzburg. So many superlatives crowded together had a bad effect, like rubbing velvet the wrong way. The medieval city was so charming; the surrounding mountains were so beautiful; the ubiquitous music was so captivating. Dirndls, Mozart, The Sound of Music—genugl Enough already. It gets cloying, like being presented with an extra-large Salzburger Nöckerln after too much Wiener schnitzel.

That was before my wife and I actually went to Salzburg a couple of weeks ago. This medieval city, bisected by the glittering Salzach river and replete with a crenellated fortress and Renaissance churches every 15 feet, is picture-book charming. The surrounding Alpine peaks, like some bespoke illustrations of the sublime, are breathtakingly beautiful. And the music—most of it, anyway—is utterly captivating.