Looking back at country paying respects to their 'precious Dianer' 
By DAVE PAYNE Sr. 
SALZBURG, Austria - Four weary British travelers, on their way from Slovakia to London pay their respects to Princess Diana, two weeks after her 1997 death, stop at a bed and breakfast for the night. 
At about 4 a.m., Austrian police kick in their hotel room door, with automatic pistols drawn, and jerk them out of bed. They look the men over for a moment and exited as quickly as they had barged in, leaving only the hotel clerk to explain what happened to the startled Englishmen, as the door hangs loosely on its hinges. 
Police were looking for Slovakian men who had allegedly stolen something. They checked local hotels for any Slovakian men who had recently checked in. 
The men worked in Slovakia and thereby were considered suspects until police realized they weren't the ones they were looking for. 
Such a police search is accepted in much of the world, where one's innocence is not assumed before proven guilty, but an outrage to British nationals who enjoy many of the same fundamental freedoms Americans do. 
But there is no room for anger in the hearts, which are torn with sorrow. "What good are freedoms," says one, "when our precious Dianer was taken away from us." 
They spend the next afternoon in the hotel bar, drinking away their sorrows with American bourbon. They drink round after round for themselves and a few for American college students who try to share their grief. 
"To Dianer," they say as they lift their glasses of whisky mixed with tears. 
In London, four days earlier, life, for the most part, goes on as normal a week after Princess Diana's funeral. 
In Hyde Park, squirrels still jump on people's wrists to eat grain or bread out of their hands. Thousands of pigeons still converge on Trafalger Square, where a statue of George Washington, boldly donated by the Commonwealth of Virginia, looks on from across the street. 
Television station BBC 4 shows Monday Night Football, between Dallas and Philadelphia at 3 a.m. Thursday. Dallas wins. 
Big Ben keeps ticking and Bobbies break up a fist fight in front of the Duke of Leicester Hotel and though the heat is stifling, refreshment stands still sell their sodas without ice. 
But at Kensington Palace, where Diana once resided, dozens of workers, volunteers and police work frantically to pick up millions of rotting flowers and carry them away in white cardboard boxes where trucks haul them away. 
But they can't work fast enough. A backlog of rotting flowers are piled up waist high for several acres, still await transport as a steady stream of teary-eyed British citizens and foreigners lay more bouquets outside the palace. 
Foreign mourners, from dozens of nations place hang their countries' flags on the iron fence surrounding the palace. 
On one section, a woman posts an American flag, standing on her tiptoes to display it higher than the others. In the white stripes she has written a lengthy inscription, ink smeared in spots, perhaps by falling tears. 
"Diana," it says, "we love you." 
Beneath the river of tears, there is a strong undercurrent of anger and suspicion, driven by snowballing rumors and tabloid headlines. 
One hotel clerk said he was sure his beloved princess fell victim to foul play. There is similar talk restaurants, newsstands and on the streets. 
"Maybe I'll never know for sure what happened," he said, "but I do know this ... she was beautiful in every way." 
She certainly was. 
Staff writer Dave Payne Sr. studied during the fall 1997 semester in Europe during his senior year of college.