… to my hut in the mountains. The road is long and winding, almost like in that Beatles’ song. An hour and a half drive from Innsbruck through freshly cut Tyrolean meadows on the backdrop of a mountain ridge and an excess amount of churches along the way, and we are finally in Obergurgl. The tiny Austrian village (no more than 400 inhabitants live here all year round) presents a strange combination of hectic days (on the slopes, that is) and calm nights (if you don’t go to a bar). Everything here is simple: the accommodation (a thick wooden floor and some checkered linen), the food (a good old käsespätzle), the people (strangers saying hello on the streets any time of the day may be overwhelming at first). Only the extreme politeness of the receptionists gives away the price point of the place.

A stroll from one end of Obergurgl to the other takes no more than 30 minutes, at a fairly leisurely pace. And there you have it all: the church, the shopping mall, the tiny coquettish souvenir shop, and a number of restaurants. A micro world that mirrors reality. But truth is, it is all surreal – the strength of the sunlight, the murmur of the river, the way the snow melts on the palms. It is a reality escape.






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