Arriving in Salzburg, ahead of this week’s Whitsun music festival, the first thing that greets you is a rather grumpy statue of the greatest composer who ever lived. Johann Chrysostom Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born in this implausibly pretty Alpine city, and each time I return here the boyish creator of the world’s most beautiful music seems more ubiquitous than ever.
Wandering the narrow alleyways of Salzburg’s medieval Altstadt, its cobblestones worn smooth by centuries of tourist traffic, Mozart’s pale and pensive face stares back at you from the window of every souvenir shop, emblazoned on every conceivable knick-knack, from fridge magnets to action figures (my personal favourite is the Playmobil Mozart, which comes complete with violin, frock coat and powdered wig). The apotheoses of this personality cult are the omnipresent Mozartkugeln – chocolate baubles wrapped in silver foil, each one adorned with a mugshot of Salzburg’s musical Wunderkind.
Mozart is big business here, and the competition for tourist Pounds and Dollars (and Yen and Yuan) is intense.
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