I'm up at half past four for the first of the two flights that will take me to Graz. It's dark outside and raining hard, and the long line of people flying to Orlando are shivering in shorts and flip-flops.
The sun is out when we land and everything around the airport is green. There are low-lying mountains and a crowd of people standing on a rooftop, waving Austrian flags at a private jet. We walk across a single-lane road and find the train station platform on the edge of a village. Ten minutes later we're in the middle of the city.