The last week has been a fast blur of a blast.

With a few days off work as usual, I hit the train to Innsbruck, determined to get to know Austria a little better than just Salzburg and a bit of Vienna. The train ride seemed nice enough, but in all honesty I spent a majority of the time dozing in and out of sleep while chilling out to Decemberists tracks on my iPod.

Across from me sat an elderly gentlemen, clearly heading to the mountains for a few days because of the hiking poles strapped to his backpack. He was rocking out to a stack of Mozart CDs, with what looked like expensive Sennheiser headphones. The interesting part in our journey together came at our arrival in Innsbruck, when, even though we hadn’t said a word to each other for the entire trip, he made a point of saying ‘ciao’ on our departure. I love this manner of politeness.

Innsbruck’s weather was a bit dodgy on my arrival, but I had conferred with the weather reports and knew that the next couple of days should be sunny and warm. I checked myself into a dodgy hostel, but was put at ease by a foosball table tucked into a corner by the washrooms. It later turned out that the hostel owner, a portly bi-polar Austrian, was a pretty kick-ass foosballer himself.

I check out some of the local tourism info, and tucked among the collage of brochures i spotted something of true interest: tandem paragliding. I later sat chatting idly with some other travellers, while i fidgeted with the brochure in my hand… should I do it? Without any real reason why (or why not?) I excused myself momentarily and made the call. I was going paragliding!!

The next morning I fought off a bit of a hangover and met my paragliding guru for the day. We piled into his Euro-minivan and took off for the mountains. Conversation was light, although all I can really remember was an incredible thirst for about a litre of water.

We arrived at the mountain’s base and hopped a cable-car to the top.. there really wasn’t any turning back now. We strapped in, and he went through a few safety procedures, but none of it really stuck as I watched other paragliders set up, and one by one run down the mountain until their chutes took them to the sky.

Our turn came about, and his last instructions weren’t much beyond >On the count of three, run! Don’t stop unless I say so! And I ran. And ran.. And ran… And suddenly, the ground wasn’t really there anymore… It felt like on of those rare flying dreams that I get about once a year, when the flying isn’t really explained.. you just sort of, well, fly.

The ground fell away, my eyes went wide and eventually i stopped trying to run. A wind seemed to gust up out of nowhere, as though it had somehow hid itself away from the ground on which I was standing. There wasn’t even much of an adrenaline rush… just a sense of euphoria, as we glided over the treetops. I even had a bit of a chuckle as I sighted a few ma-ma-ma-moo cows hanging out in the mountainside forest below me.

We glided our way down, with me saying ‘wow’, ‘incredible’ or ‘random profanity’ about every twenty seconds. If only we had some mountains nearby back home, I think I’d have a new hobby. The landing was soft, and I was back on solid ground. Incredible. Highly recommended.

The rest of my time in Innsbruck was much less exciting.. I partied a bit, wandered the city, took some photos – essentially a lot of yadda yadda yadda in comparison.

Now I sit in Salzburg again, having worked the three nights prior. The Salzburg Weltmeister Foosball Tournament did take place on Saturday afternoon, but it’s best not to mash two good stories into one. That and my wrists are sore from typing. In the morning I’m piling into a car with a friend bound for the Croatian coast, and I’m looking forward to lots of sun, sand, wine and calamari.