We drove through the desert to Los Angeles for a red eye to Sweden, and after a short layover with salmon sandwiches in a pitch-black afternoon, we flew to Vienna. Oh, Wien. I could scarcely believe I was ACTUALLY returning to my beloved city until we parked at our hotel literally right next door to Schönbrunn Palace. 

     Poor jet lagged Daddy didn't catch a wink, but Mom and I managed a good 4 hours before we hit the snowy roads. The misty, white-laden Alps were astounding. My first German was to the cash register lady at a gas station; the words felt like a clumsy newborn foal as they stumbled out of my mouth, and yet I got the hang of it quickly. 

     Innsbruck is a famed among the missionaries of the Alpine German-Speaking Mission for being a "dream area." Nestled under the mountains, this Austrian town is surely worthy of this appeal. We explored the busy streets and hit up a bustling produce market for its amazing variety of meats, breads and cheeses.