It was a great event when, on the 7th of Feb 1939, I left home to stay with some friends in Vienna, where I was to learn the language and, mainly to satisfy my own curiosity, to study the people and their manner of living.
I arrived in the middle of their afternoon, and my friends were there to meet me. At first it was quite bewildering standing on the simple countrified platform of this great city, and drinking in the fresh smokeless air, for it is no pleasure to sit eighteen hours on a hard wooden seat with all ventilation shut off.
On the whole, it was a very comfortable and interesting journey; especially as I, unexpectantly, was accompanied by a friend of mine. She was going to Switzerland for three weeks skiing, so that we travelled together as far as Koln, where she was to change into another train for Bale.
(Incidentally, I heard later she had the misfortune to fall the first day on the ice and break her elbow, which put a sad end to a lovely holiday.)
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