Traunstein and Herr Scheissschopper

Our next few days, after a fruitful visit to the huge Salzburg Mercedes dealership (advice about tires, oil, other matters), were spent near Traunstein, in Germany, where we had finally, at great length, and trouble, located an RV dealer (Grunaugl, mit two umlauts) and repair shop that would obtain for us and install a new macerator. Our previous macerator had expired; and, let me tell you that, in a rig like ours, and in a place like Europe, life without Mssr. Macerateur is very unpleasant. (The Germans were translating macerator as "shit chopper"). Traunstein is perhaps half an hour from Salzburg. Fortunately, we were able to park free at the dealership, which has its own stellplatz.

The failed Scheissschopper

In Traunstein, we ran into a large monthly flea market...ein floh markt

It was fun looking around at what ordinary people buy and sell at such events; 

out of the ordinary, perhaps, I found an original 1895 leather-bound, fully-intact 

illustrated edition of Houston Stewart Chamberlain's Wagner book, for 25 euros; 

he was one of the earliest British Wagner idolizers; also some traditional clothing, 

but the market closed before we could collect more geld from the wall

We made our way next back into Salzburg, en route to Berchtesgaden, and 

encountered a wedding procession

Austrian wedding security; note the earphones

We drove on through Berchtesgaden and spent an afternoon nosing around cheesy

Koenigsee; marmot oil is a popular home remedy (for what I don't want to think about); 

Europeans everywhere seem fascinated by marmots

And then found a lay-by, on a beautiful creek, between

The ancient toll-house on the German-Austrian border

And the Untersberg

Vicki, who had by now had quite enough of Salzburg, felt she was being sucked back into it...this, the Obersalzburg, was our base of operations for a couple more days...and it was not our last return to Salzburg.  For possibly obscure reasons, we spent the evening watching The Producers, a film we love and live by. Possibly our only meaningful connection with Berchtesgaden.