before the day

It is interesting, watching a town ready herself for the day. She goes through much the same routine as a woman would in the early morning – the rubbing and scrubbing, the cleansing, the momentary self reflection, the makeup.

Hallstatt’s morning is the early spring, her working day the summer and fall, her night the end of winter. Everything seems to open on April 26 – the funicular to the salt mine, many of the larger shops and restaurants, several of the pensions. And until that time – until that hour when she must face full-force that worldly crowd of tourists and their cameras – she will beautify herself, and ready her face for the lights.

And it shows. Tractors and cranes rumble around every corner of market square – there are men with ladders and paint brushes, wheelbarrows sloshing with cement, puzzled looks and long drags on cigarettes. It all seems very hectic for this tiny, peaceful town on the edge of this pristine lake.

But perhaps the seasons weather a small town faster, and with more ferocity, than a large city. Or maybe Hallstatt is just more self conscious, more self aware – perhaps it is her constant reflection in the lake that makes her question her natural beauty.

Hallstatt should be known at all times of day – during her snow filled night, her shuffling early hours, her bustling noon. But if I had to chose – or recommend – one time to visit, I’d say come when the flowers are in bloom, and the children swim in the lake, and the paint and caulking have all since dried, and set.

But regardless of the hour – should the opportunity arise – come, by all means come, to Hallstatt.