This morning, I enjoyed the complimentary breakfast and WiFi from the dining room looking across the Inn to the old city. Coffee, salami, cheese, bread with butter and jam, museli.
Thus fortified, I walked over to the Congress street station and terminus of the funicular line. Starchitect Zaha Hadid has an oddly intimate relationship with Innsbruck. She designed their iconic ski jump tower, as well as the stations for its funicular system. Actually, I like these stations the most of her work. They are early Zaha, small works. Swoopy curved plastic pavilion roofs in glacial sky blue lightly touching down on top of more rigid and angular concrete entryways and below ground. The swoopy parts look like they were inspired by melting chunks of ice, the glossy and organic curved plastic surfaces (artificial, smooth, mechanically formed) contrasted with the board-formed concrete (textured, hand made).
I bought a full ride up to the top of the mountain which turned out to be not so great of an idea. It was fun to take the big cable cars up and watch the rain turn to snow and climb higher into the mist shrouded peaks, but the problem was at the top, beyond the tree line, there was nothing but a mostly empty overlook, a closed trail to the peak, and nothing but blinding, excruciatingly white blankness beyond. It was like we were surrounded by a glowing white curtain.
I'd intended to do some hiking around at the lower stations but decided against it and rode back to town. Innsbruck is probably one of the few places you can stand in a Zaha project and look at another Zaha project, so I decided to hike over to her ski jump, which is also characterized by what we architects like to call "Swoopiness." It's also in the hills above the town, and on my way, I stumbled across a museum/restaurant overlook which looked suspiciously like the new addition to the St. Louis art museum. Oh, David Chipperfield, you trickster!
At that point, I was Zaha'd out so I took a photo at the entry gate and declined to pay the $10 entry fee to ride up to the top. Hiked back to the town, and hopped from cafe to cafe, writing postcards and drinking coffee, trying to avoid the rain as much as possible. I also stopped by the outdoor international climbing championships, which was having a youth climber day, so that was at least a level 3 of adorableness.
Picked up a few souvenirs and some Austrian Mozart themed chocolate for the other team members at the office. It seems like every city in Austria claims a part of the Mozart commercial legacy. I think that Mozart might have been born in Innsbruck? Or lived here for a certain number of years? Or his parents were from here? I can't remember.
The European City train was packed, not very nice, and filled with tourists coming from Italy. The ICE I'm riding now is much nicer. It feels like an upgrade to business class as we whiz across the dark Bavarian countryside. Back to work tomorrow, but at least it's the weekend after.
Thus fortified, I walked over to the Congress street station and terminus of the funicular line. Starchitect Zaha Hadid has an oddly intimate relationship with Innsbruck. She designed their iconic ski jump tower, as well as the stations for its funicular system. Actually, I like these stations the most of her work. They are early Zaha, small works. Swoopy curved plastic pavilion roofs in glacial sky blue lightly touching down on top of more rigid and angular concrete entryways and below ground. The swoopy parts look like they were inspired by melting chunks of ice, the glossy and organic curved plastic surfaces (artificial, smooth, mechanically formed) contrasted with the board-formed concrete (textured, hand made).
I bought a full ride up to the top of the mountain which turned out to be not so great of an idea. It was fun to take the big cable cars up and watch the rain turn to snow and climb higher into the mist shrouded peaks, but the problem was at the top, beyond the tree line, there was nothing but a mostly empty overlook, a closed trail to the peak, and nothing but blinding, excruciatingly white blankness beyond. It was like we were surrounded by a glowing white curtain.
I'd intended to do some hiking around at the lower stations but decided against it and rode back to town. Innsbruck is probably one of the few places you can stand in a Zaha project and look at another Zaha project, so I decided to hike over to her ski jump, which is also characterized by what we architects like to call "Swoopiness." It's also in the hills above the town, and on my way, I stumbled across a museum/restaurant overlook which looked suspiciously like the new addition to the St. Louis art museum. Oh, David Chipperfield, you trickster!
At that point, I was Zaha'd out so I took a photo at the entry gate and declined to pay the $10 entry fee to ride up to the top. Hiked back to the town, and hopped from cafe to cafe, writing postcards and drinking coffee, trying to avoid the rain as much as possible. I also stopped by the outdoor international climbing championships, which was having a youth climber day, so that was at least a level 3 of adorableness.
Picked up a few souvenirs and some Austrian Mozart themed chocolate for the other team members at the office. It seems like every city in Austria claims a part of the Mozart commercial legacy. I think that Mozart might have been born in Innsbruck? Or lived here for a certain number of years? Or his parents were from here? I can't remember.
The European City train was packed, not very nice, and filled with tourists coming from Italy. The ICE I'm riding now is much nicer. It feels like an upgrade to business class as we whiz across the dark Bavarian countryside. Back to work tomorrow, but at least it's the weekend after.
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