September, Salzburg. Now that the tourists departed from their star-gazing vacation of the Festspiele, Salzburgian’s can now enjoy enclosed harmony the joys of ländler dances complete with hopping, stamping and if you are lucky-yodeling, they can wear with pride tracht-the traditional costume of southern Germans and Austrians that has inspired an entirely new fashion style, called (Country Estate Style). This Landhausmode, influenced by the costumes of the farmers, peasants and rural people, and characterized by the use of linen, felt fits right in with St. Rupert’s fair, held in honor of Salzburg’s patron saint. Complete with carrousel, faces of glee swing around and around as dusk falls, safe in the knowledge that they are in the Diamond of Austria.

The air is full of mountain freshness after smog filled Vienna that makes me dizzy, so I sit in front of the neon fountain. Flashes of light blink out of the gradual descent into night as tourists failingly attempt to capture the fantasy fountain. I begin to shiver, so I take a walk along past the cafe Bazar, once a hub of intellectual debate, now empty, except a couple of men dressed in suits idling leafing their newspapers. Domesticated teenagers shout at each other in the darkness, looking for action. I enter the long driveway laid before the Festspiele flanked by Austrian flags. The medieval buildings with iron-barred shut windows tower above me. I see odd concrete box lit from the inside, as I walk towards it I realise it is modern art installation. I peer in at trees sticking out of planks of limestone, facing the earthy oil painting and my eyes fix upon A.E.I.O.U centered on the back wall. Out of the corner of my man dressed in fine, tailored clothes lean against the other side of the light box. He gazes as the painting and I sound out the letters A. E.I.O.U. to which he cuts in, “Do you know what it means”? I want to say it reminds me of childhood elecution classes, repetively sounding out vowels for perfect pronuciation, instead I say, “Nope” He comes closer and I can smell the alcohol on his breath as he whispers “Let me tell you” He is clearly an educated man, albeit forgetful in his drunken state. He begins to reveal that the letters were actually code, a beloved device of the Habsburg emperors, particularly Emperor Frederick III , (1415-93). This acronym that was kept secret until shortly before his death stood for Alles Erdreich Ist Österreich Untertan or “All the world is subject to Austria.” “That my friend” I can identify that it’s whiskey now, “Is the ONLY reason Salzburg Stadt bought such a piece. He might as well have written a cheque addressed A.E.I.O.U.” “Ah yes the perfect code so that the plebeians of other countries such as “the island” the pejorative Austrian name for UK will remain blissfully ignorant and have to wait for a wandering intellectual to lift the veil” He laughs and invites me for a glass of wine with his chess compardres waiting for him in the Old town. He amuses me, I go.

The night unfolds in more of a usual manner, as he performs intellectual turns of phrase and pleasantly boasts about his status as physics and mathematics professor status at Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität (LMU) Munich, I smile seemingly impressed whilst at the back of mind I ponder on the politics of memory that are mobilsed to maintain political power. I finish off my wine after agreeing to a musical jam, keen to walk in the night air.

Breathe. I cross Dom Platz. Monumental catholic churches stand before me, sturdy and strong. I hear the rise and fall of cheers that get louder as I approach the Stiegel tent. As I wander inside there is an electric energy lit-up by a golden glow, joyous laughter and confident young men and women, faces up in the air, drink from stone jugs and ebb to the ländler. The air of certainty is intoxicating. I leave quickly, not liking the feeling I get as my memory falls back to a scene from Bob Fosse’s Cabaret.

Half way up Festungasse, overlooking the museum of modern art I discover that AEIOU also represents a transliteration into Latin or German of the Tetragrammaton—Yahweh, the name of g-d as found in the original Hebrew text. Dr. Emil Brix Minister of Foreign Cultural Affairs exclaimed a couple of years ago that it seems “Faith is back in town”-quite. Faith has married geo-politics and nestles quietly confident from it’s perch on high.