In the summer, wisps of white thread along the ridges that shroud Innsbruck on all sides, capping off the craggy massifs that cascade towards the meadows of edelweiss and Alpine pastures at the valley bottom. In the town itself, a chocolate box of treats distracts ramblers before their walks to the regal tombs of the Hofkirche, the great rococo edifices of the Hapsburg Hofburg, the fiery façades of the Goldenes Dachl. In the streets, Stiegl and Mohrenbräu slosh in steins, Innsbruck tour guides herald Klimt and Troger at the Ferdinandeum, and beer gardens overflow with schnitzels, schnapps and hiking shoes fresh from the crags.

Come winter, the whole Inn Valley retreats beneath a covering of ice and snow and glaciers shimmer on the mountaintops. The Hungerburg funicular and Nordkettenbahnen rattle away, beckoning skiers once more with the promise of pistes aplenty at Kaunertal and Stubaier. In the town, icicles serrate the apses of baroque buildings, the cobblestones freeze up and locals have excited discussions about who will dominate the jumps at the Begisel stadium this year. Snow gathers as the après party continues on; Innsbruck is alive.