TheEagle’s Nest

By June Necchi

Admittedly,itwas quiteafew years ago when vegetarianism wasinits early days ,I was nevertheless alittlesurprised when seated formyfirst dinner in the Austrian hotel ,the waiter appeared nonplussed when Iasked for avegetarian meal.Hetook the menu from the table,quickly scanned it then obviously deciding thatthis particular request needed ahigher authorityhurried off to the kitchen. Iwaited with interest assuming thatthe chef would come up with the appropriate ingredients.The threeegg omeletteset in front of me wasa little daunting,Iadmit,but Iwas gracious enough to clear my platethanking the waiter when he returned.Itried not to showmydismaywhen the following evening another three egg omelettewas broughtto the table.

Maybe I’mabit tooaverse to hurting people’s feelings but almost succumbed on the third and fourth evenings when satinfront of yet another omelette.

Whydid Inot complain? Ineed to think about that. Looking at themenu it washeavily loaded with meatmeals all presentedinavarietyof formsleading me to the understanding that meatwas somehowrevered in this countryand must have been considered,odd,ungrateful perhaps,toturnmyback on their ‘gift’of meat. Thelocation on the shores of one of Austria’s lakes with aback cloth of amagnificent mountain range allowedthe daily egg meals to be incidental to the pleasures of the holiday, fortunately.

Afterafew days of walksaround the lakes taking in the viewsofthe majestic Austrian mountain ranges we decided to book acoach trip combining twodestinations.... Salzburg and the Eagles nest,Adolf Hitler’s hideaway. My memories of Salzburg arenow alittle vague,though abeautiful cityIwas pleased when the tourist guide ordered us back to the coach leaving the crowds of tourists flooding the streets .

Ihad no idea whattoexpectfromthe next stop knowing only thatthe Eagles Nest situated 2820 metres above sea level wasunassailable by the Führer’s enemies.The coachI was travelling in followedawinding mountainside road until reaching aplateau,avehicle park. Leaving the coachwemadeour waytoalift which would take us up to the hideaway. I never did discover whythe wallsofthe liftwere completely brass lined Wasitsimply Hitler’s wish to impress ?

Thedoors opened immediately into the interior of the grand house itself.The huge fireplacecaughtmyattention, afireplacewith Hitler standing alongside featured in much of his photographic memorabilia .I shuddered, as Iimagine manycurious visitors there, did, at actually being in the home of aman who wasresponsible forsomuch devastation. What terrible,inhuman decisions had been made within those four walls?Decisions,which would resonate through the years,leaving a legacyofloss through generations .

It wasa relief to go out to the adjoining restaurantlit by the afternoon’s sun.

My lasting memoryisofwalking along to the summit and gazing down with wonder at the peaks of the surrounding mountains. Howvividly Nature’svista contrasted with the horrors of the historyofthe house thatstood behind me.

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