16 May

I boarded the Orient Express and found my berth (a 2nd class couchette) with little difficulty. Obtaining a non-smoking one was apparently past my language skills. However, my companion on the journey, a French-Canadian, was a non-smoker. He gave me some good advice - chiefly don't sleep without locking the door and lock by belongings in the cabin (or take them with me) while I'm elsewhere.

I navigate my way to the Hotel Winkelhofer pretty easily (a taxi from the Bahnhof). My German, while rusty, still sounds pretty good. It seems that I can get my tongue around German pronunciation much more easily than around French pronunciation.

I actually arrived before the hotel opened for business for the day so I found myself standing around in the brisk Austrian air, waiting for the innkeeper to open up. I was very pleasantly surprised to find that she was a raven-haired girl of not inconsiderable beauty. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) she spoke no English at all and I was only able to make the briefest of conversations in my rusty German. However, we did have fun making eyes at each other for the next day or two.

I woke Ian up at 6.30 am or so and crashed out after a quick shower. I got up about three or four hours later (having had little or no sleep on the train) and we had a minor debacle when we realized that I would need a motorcycle helmet if I was to ride with him to the GP. Somehow, naively, I had imagined that there would be public transportation to the GP from the metropolis of Salzburg.

It's a portly English chap who does research in nuclear physics at an institute in Switzerland.. We are to get on pretty well in spite of being set in our ways. My main form of transportation is as pillion on is Suzuki 600. Not a position I relish. Since I've started racing, I don't trust anyone else to transport me around. This makes me a somewhat ungracious passenger. Add this to the fact that I'm a type A and hate getting lost and there is a little friction with Ian.

However, the good Austrian pilsner seems to resolve our friction and we are to explore the downtown of Salzburg together.

If there was any public transportation to the GP, I wasn't able to find it, so I sent Ian off to the local motorcycle store with instructions to buy the cheapest helmet he could find for me. What with EC regulations, this turned out to be an $80 open-faced helmet. I understood the necessity but I was really annoyed at having to spend so much money just to get to the track. Little did I realize how much the entry to the track was going to be for the weekend (turned out to be well over a $100US for the three days of muddy access to the track perimeter).

Unlike the American GP, the facilities were minimal for the crowd. However, also unlike the American GP, there were a ton of knowledgeable fans and the venue was gorgeous. Can't have everything.