When one hears the word “Tyrol,” wonderful visions dance in the mind—lush green fields with lazy cows munching grass, their huge bells ringing with the rhythm of each step; little boys with apple cheeks wearing leather shorts held up with jaunty suspenders; little girls with blond braids dressed in gay dirndls; picture-perfect villages with every small chalet bedecked with geraniums; simple little churches standing on mountain ledges in isolated splendor; enormous farmhouse-barn combinations with plump down pillows dangling and airing from the windows; meadows of wildflowers stretching as far as the eye can see; powerful mountains rising like walls of granite into the sky. All this is true—and more.