08/24/2023
Very soon, the Time foe Peace Magazine page will publish new stories in French and in English. But now, let go back to the past with a selected stories that were published in the magazine.
JAGDHOF SPA-HOTEL
by Marion Einbeck © 2006
The church bells in Neustift were ringing the hour at which we arrived. When we stepped out of the car it was exactly five o’clock in the afternoon.
As we were walking to the entrance of the Jagdhof Hotel my companion took my arm. The courtyard had a sweet fragrance, which the rain accentuates when the borders are overflowing with flowers. We were carefree and totally unprepared to find out that our room reservation was not valid until the following evening.
The room we had just entered, which served as the reception area, had light walls, wood paneling, and seats in hues that gave the place a warm elegance. The welcoming face of a young girl appeared from behind the attractive marble counter and as she raised her eyes she began to speak. As soon as we mentioned our name – without waiting to be asked – and she had checked her computer screen, she left her post and disappeared into the office, part of which was visible from the entrance hall. After a brief moment she returned with a gorgeous dark-haired young woman who seemed to be in charge. Claudia Reichenberger was the director of the establishment. She turned around and her lovely blue eyes observed us in the light of the entrance.
“Yes,” she said smiling, “you are arriving on the wrong day. We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow and since the hotel is full for tonight I’m going to make an apartment available that is nearby, which we normally reserve for families who stay for longer periods of time. Don’t worry about your bags, we’ll take care of them and deliver them to you there.”
I was the first to enter the huge apartment on the second floor of a large bright house, a few hundred meters distance from the hotel.
From a comfortable armchair I contemplated the living room, kitchen, balcony, the small-checkered carpet, the Tyrolian furniture of pale wood, and the baroque lighting of the chandeliers shedding a dreamy light in the rooms behind me. Our bedroom was at the other end of the apartment and furnished in the same Tyrolian chalet style. The bathrooms adjoining the bedrooms had white tiles with almost imperceptible marble veins. They contained immense bathtubs with a whirlpool bath and the smallest one had a sauna.
We were hungry and for the evening meal we would have to leave the cozy apartment and cross the bridge over the little river that chattered like a mountain waterfall. It was raining when we entered the restaurant at nine o’clock. The head waiter immediately guided us to a comfortable table located in the back of the superb room with its sculpted wood ceiling, beneath several paintings and a few hunting trophies, where we felt quite special and were able to see the room without being seen. We ordered two glasses of fine champagne and toasted Claudia who had made us the happiest of couples by allowing us to begin our stay a day earlier than expected.
The melancholy candlelight gave us a sense of utter privacy. Over the impeccable tablecloth we put together a menu that we would long remember with unmitigated pleasure. We studied the list of sumptuous appetizers displayed on large sideboards. Vegetables, fruit, pâtés and terrines, meats and fish blithely contributed to the splendor of our celebration. After regaling ourselves to these, they brought us the main dishes – equally superb. My fish with its gleaming white flesh came off its bone in tender fillets. I heard my companion sigh with contentment as he tasted a succulent beef fillet with truffles and a shallot and potato conserve. The ceps were extraordinary, and the chicken with noodles was subtle and flavorful. We drank a 1990 Château Latour that had been aged in the old and generous vineyards of France, and finished our dinner with a delicate, creamy white chocolate mousse.
When we left the hotel it was still raining, but they made sure that we were taken home by the hotel shuttle and its charming driver. We were in bed and fell asleep a few moments later.
Daylight was coming through the curtain when we woke up. It was a beautiful day and time to get ready for a solid breakfast at the hotel buffet. The air would do us good and we were looking forward to retracing last night’s path on foot. The breakfast buffet at the Jagdhof was incredible and gargantuan. in every way .
That day it was our delightful task to spend the time visiting the hotel, finding our new, luxurious suite, going to the village to discover the glitter of the shop windows and the painted façades of the houses.
Thanks to Claudia we had scheduled massages and other health care programs for the next day. The spa was impressive and the staff unbelievably efficient and amiable. It was pure bliss for me to let myself be enveloped from head to toe in strips of fabric soaked in sea salt and minerals. Once unwrapped, it was a revelation to find how much lighter and smoother my body had become. My companion had his muscles treated with a therapy that originated from the Indian Ocean and he admitted to me that he felt stimulated and ten times more energetic. Having gone from one treatment to the next, we didn’t want to miss the evening meal, which we had in any one of the various hotel restaurants, depending on our mood and appetite. Before going in to dinner we visited the wine cellar with Armin Pfurtscheller, the attractive, spirited proprietor. It was a delight to spend some time there, have some fine wine or just contemplate the impressive collection of Mouton Rothschild and Romanée Conti, or choose a Vosne Romanée 1990, 1er cru - Les Brulées du Domaine René Engel to have with dinner.
Christina, Armin’s lovely dark-haired wife, came to get us so we wouldn’t be the last ones to arrive in the restaurant. Some evenings we listened to zither music during the meal. We enjoyed the sound of the instrument and could have spent hours watching the musician’s hands as they dissolved, were suspended above, and then leapt over the plucked strings. These were perfect moments, enough to make your heart tremble. The gathering applauded the performer, modestly settled beside his musical instrument, and asked him to play the theme of The Third Man. That precise moment always caused a few tears to flow like rosary beads down some cheeks. They were only the water drops of memory.
In the hotel one day we ran into a magnificent tall woman dressed in Dirndl, a long black dress with a décolleté embroidered in multicolored roses. From that meeting on, Armin’s mother would invite us to have a drink with her at the bar and we’d talk about the snow that had just fallen on the glaciers.
We didn’t spend much time in the suite and were sorry about that because it was so lavishly beautiful. We liked the way they made the bed, differently every day. Some evenings the quilts were arranged like white rolls on the immaculate bed, other times they were laid out together and formed one huge heart. Everything smelled good. The towels and sheets were smooth, soft, and beautifully ironed. They sent body and soul into raptures.
Not long after we arrived, we were sitting on the terrace to take advantage of the bright sunshine when a tall gentleman, with his hair tied back, stopped at our table. Dietmar Frölich was a gifted cook and a lovely man. He was utterly devoted to anything having to do with cooking and during our stay he had regaled us to marvelous things – meat the color of wild roses and vegetables reminiscent of fruit. He managed our gastronomic sins with the true talent of a great chef.
A few weeks after we left the Jagdhof Hotel I still didn’t know what I had liked the most during that memorable time because so much about it was enchanting and unforgettable.
