An early wal to Salzburg Haupbanhof started the day. Mum's ticket to Mauthausen was 51E or there abouts- very expensive! It is time like this that I bless the sacred Interrail pass, though I did have to buy a 14E ticket from Linz to Mauthausen- damn private local links. Very impressed by Austrian ticket machines- by far the best in Europe- pay on card, can select a different departure destination- all those things you can / or can't do in the UK even. But the card machine is odd- seems to reject card, ask for it again- then print ticket, despite the number pad not asking for a pin?

The journey to the town of Mauthausen was pretty painless, but then we pondered whether to wal or tae the bus to the memorial. It turns out we picked the wrong option however the walk at least gave you a sense of the long trenchuous journies the prisoners had to do- authenticy to every part of my trip. 6km or so and 50 minutes later we arrived- most of the journey was a steep-ish incline through Austrian wilderness and the temperature around 34/35.

Mauthausen memorial was very thought-provoking, a small exhibition introduces the visitor to the procedures of extermination, the 'camp' staff and the liberation. The original site is substantially left intact, but the walls and barracks are filled with memorials, particularly notable are:

>the wailing wall (nicknamed this by prisoners because it was associated with torturous treatment) -this held plaques to different nations, Roma/ Sinti, Jehovah Witnesses and homosexuals.

>The gas chamber and crematorium- adorned with personal memorials at every turn. Two candles stand inside the oven.

>The administration barrac - which now contains the flags and memorails to different nations and a chapel covered in disturbing images of camp life (Art work) juxtaposed with images of divinity on the bac wall. It was disturbing to see some Spanish ids sitting on one of the memorials here- but more disturbing was the young Italian boys who posed in front of the Jewish memorial then played catchwith the stones whilst their parents watched- p****! Why?

The finishing touch to Mauthausen memorial site was the memorial park where each nation or group had created a monument of remembrance, this was accompanied further down by the stairway to death- the labourious stepped entrance to the hard labour quarry. I felt bad not being able to make it quite to the bottom as the, now, 38C heat punded down on me- thoug this made me saddened in remembering that those who did this daily wal- did not have the freedom of choice I did. The quarantine areas of the camp had now been turned into graveyards for American soldiers and inmates. The Mauthausen site engaged visitors both in education (Audio-guides and books and guided tours were available) but it also served as a site of remembrance- it was left up to the visitor how they may wish to make use of it.

After the two hours or so we spent at the site we opted for a taxi bac to the town, which the staff kindly ordered for us. Mauthausen, the town is a typical Baroque town situated by a seren rier and forest- it is hard to imagine Mauthausen and Gusen so close to this beautiful, quiet town popular with hikers and cyclists. We stopped at a cafe by the river and I impressed myself with my German skills (in that I was able to at least read enough of the menu to be able to order food I liked!). After eating, we headed back- this time the train journey was a little more confusing as we had to cross the tracks at Mauthausen (which seemed utterly bizarre to my mum, whilst I'd been jumping off 2 foot platforms in Lithuania and running across tracks just a week or so ago), then change at St Valentin's, but luckily the Linz train also went to Salzburg so there was no extra charge still.

Once back in Salzbury, we had, by far missed the Marionette Theatre- no puppets for us! I did however go dwarf hunting in the Mirabell Gardens- as Ari (Yesterday's tour guide had recommended these) - yes I am a big kid, they are ALL grumpy and ugly, maybe they are just grumpy because they are ugly?

We grabbed a drin in the Old Town, then headed bac wit some food for evening and breakfast and it had come to that time of the evening which we shall call "Packing Politics"- what could I off-load to mum and what did I THINK I still REALLY needed to carry around on my back for the rest of the trip? ...The debate continues