Vienna (warning-- VERY LONG!)

I boarded the train and found my car. There were 4 women taking up all the space with lots of bags. The one woman asked me if I could give them about 5 minutes to get organized and then I’d have space to come back to. So I went out and bought a soda in the station and came back. The women were Ukranian and only 2 of them spoke any English. We started conversing in broken sentences and even before the train left it seemed like we were all going to get along and have a pleasant evening.

But then three people came to our door and said that they had reserved the beds in this room (I have the most amazing Daddy ever who bought me a ticket for a couchette, which I’m told, in English, is “sleeper car”… a bed in a cabin with 6 beds). So now there was mass confusion because there were 8 people holding tickets for 6 beds. It didn’t take too long to figure out, my Ukranian friends were in the wrong “wagon”… car?? Is that the word we would use? So they grudgingly got all their belongings and unmade their beds to take their sheets and off they went to find their real place.

My three new roommates were Austrian, from just outside Vienna. The girl was 16 and was in high school studying tourism and economics. The parents were both in the medical field in some way. At first I thought they were a little rude, just the way they spoke with the Ukranians, but as we chatted I discovered that they, too, were great people. The dad spoke English best, the mom just a little and the daughter understood but couldn’t really reply in full sentences. Soon enough we were joined by one other roommate- a young Indian woman, about 26 or so, who spoke perfect English. She was useful to help me out when my own English failed me—being in France for so long and speaking only with people who understand both English and French or only French has messed with my English. She’s the one who told me that a couchette was a sleeper car. She saved me a couple of times. 

We all sat around chatting until about 11:00 or so and then got in our bunks and went to bed. It was so easy sleeping on the train. The rocking just puts you right out. I woke up a couple of times, looked out the window, saw we were still moving and went right back to sleep.

I woke up around 7am when one of my roommates got up to use the bathroom. The breakfast of coffee (or hot chocolate) and a bread roll with jam were already being brought to the cabins. So I pushed the sheets aside and got up. My new Austrian friends gave me some advice on foods I need to try in Vienna and I had them write them down so I couldn’t forget—this was important information!!

We got into the station around 8:20AM or so. The friendly Austrian family helped me out of the station and pointed me in the right direction to find my hostel. I thanked them, said bye to them all, including the Indian girl, and went on my way. My hostel was not far from the train station, so I found it quite easily and I checked in and paid. I couldn’t get into my room yet, but I could use the guest shower. After spending a night sleeping on a train I felt like I needed it. So I got cleaned up and changed my clothes, left my bags in the luggage room and headed out to explore.

I asked the lady at the front desk where I could find a church service in the area. She said that the Vienna Boys Choir did mass on Sundays at 9:15… oh, but fail… it was already 9:30 or so and it would take me about 20 minutes to get to the church.  Sad times. She didn’t know where else I’d find a service, but she said I could check at St. Stephen’s. I decided to walk into center town since I needed to sort of get my bearings and besides, I wanted to SEE Vienna! I found a church along the way that had just started mass and I snuck in, despite my distaste for coming to mass late: late was better than not at all. And although I didn’t understand anything they said, it was a beautiful little church and a nice service.

From there it took about 25 minutes or so to walk to the Opera- my first destination. My loving and amazing mother bought me a ticket to see the ballet Romeo and Juliet at the Vienna State Opera house. I was going to pick up my ticket.  YAY! (Because of my remarkable parents I truly lived a blessed life!)

So I get to the Opera house… and I can’t get inside. But luckily there are tourism people (dressed as Mozart no less) standing outside the Opera and they informed me that I can pick up my ticket one hour before performance time- which was at 7PM. They pointed me in direction of the tourism office and I went to see about doing a walking tour- I didn’t really know much about Vienna and I thought it’d be a good way to start.

I got to the tourism office and looked at the tours offered. There was an interesting one that would take place on Wednesday, but I was leaving Wednesday, so I settled on the “main sites” tour which was daily at 2pm. By this point it was about 11:30. That left me just enough time to do not really anything. So instead of tackling a museum or heading out to one of the palaces I went to grab some lunch and check out St. Stephen’s Cathedral. For lunch I ate Wiener Schnitzel with Kartofelsalat (not sure about the spelling on that—it’s like breaded pork (or veal) with German potato salad). It was good, not outstanding, but not bad. I left with plenty of time to spare and headed to the big church. They were doing reconstruction outside and the inside looks like a lot of other gothic-style churches across Europe. (Being here for so long and seeing so many churches desensitizes you to the amazingness I think… I know it’s amazing and beautiful but I’ve become habitué … ummm… used too… seeing it and it makes it less special. It’s kind of sad really, but I can’t change it.)

I still had about 40 minutes to kill so I wandered around; sat in the sun for about 20 minutes and just chilled—I was tired despite the fact that I had gotten a good 7 or 8 hours of sleep on the train. I went down to where they said the tour was meeting and there was one other couple there waiting. I went inside the office to be sure that I was in the right place and he guy said, yes. And then we waited… and waited… about 15 minute after 2:00 the woman in the couple that had been waiting went in to try and figure out why no one was there for us. The guy from the tourism office called the walking tours company and no one answered. He had no answers… no one showed up… he was sorry, but it wasn’t his fault, they weren’t affiliated with the tour company. The couple found another tour by a different company that was supposed to start at 2:30. We all waited around another 10 minutes and sure enough, that woman showed up and her tour was similar enough to the tour we had planned. But… fail… she would only do the tour in German… which served the couple perfectly well, but I was SOL. I walked away and tried not to freak out about how I had wasted basically the entire day-- it being 2:30 I now didn’t have time to go to the Palace and I was worried about feeling rushed through the museums—after all, I needed to be back at the hostel to get ready for the ballet so I could get back to the Opera by 6 or 6:15.

I carefully pulled myself together and went wandering alone. This was the first time I didn’t really like being alone upon my travels, but I knew I’d be fine so off I went. I wandered aimlessly for a while and found a few cool things and then I pulled out my map and went in search of St. Ruperts, an 8th century church my Dad told me was really pretty. I found it without much trouble and he was right, it was beautiful- the way the vines and the trees seemed to be a part of this tiny old church. It was a lovely, almost woodsy picture smack in the middle of this city. Unfortunately I couldn’t get inside- they were closed. Everything seemed to be going wrong.

So I gave up on making it a productive day and I tried to return to the hostel to get ready for the ballet- THAT at least had to be good. I got slightly lost along the way, which only served to make me more frustrated, but I succeeded in the end. I got myself ready and headed out- metro-ing this time so I didn’t have to walk the distance in heels. The rest of the night was smooth sailing. I picked up my ticket I wandered around taking magnificent photos of the Opera house. I went and found my seat and the two people to my right were also “loners”- the guy was about my age I would guess, a German who liked classical music but wasn’t that excited about the ballet in particular; and the girl was only 18, a Canadian who came to Austria to be an au pair (is that how you spell that?—you know, a nanny). She had only just graduated high school before coming over. SO YOUNG! But she was living outside Vienna and was excited to see the ballet for the first time.

Our seats were fantastic!! First row of the balcony- when it started we all leaned forward and the two ladies to my left along with the Canadian girl on my right and I—we all set our head on our hands on the railing- leaning forward in anticipation and excitement. The guy sat back, restraining himself a little better.

The first Act passed and it was lovely!! The woman who played Juliet (I’ll look up her name later if anyone is interested, the program is packed away right now) was outstanding. The energy expanded out of her body so completely!! It was like invisible forces pulled on her limbs to make them seem almost never-ending. She had pretty feet and her technique was flawless. She was fun to watch. The other dancers in the company were typical for a professional company- there were some really good dancers and a couple that were still good, but not as outstanding- with certain shapes or timing being just slightly off. But all in all, it was lovely and fun and exciting and wonderful!!

At the first intermission the Canadian girl took off to go grab something to eat at the bar—they had little sandwiches and she hadn’t eaten ahead of time. The German guy and I followed a little slower and got in line to grab a glass of wine. By the time we got it we didn’t have much time to drink it, but that’s how things go I suppose.

The Second Act was less classical—the clowns did flips and cartwheels and while it fit in perfectly, I noticed the subtle more contemporary influence to this Act. Still outstanding, just less Classical.

At the second intermission the Canadian went to grab another set of little sandwiches and the German guy wandered away to the bathroom or something. I sat there and watched the musicians. I don’t think I mentioned this yet, but it was a live orchestra- and thus was all that much more amazing. To be honest, sometimes, like during the fighting scenes when the dancing was less exciting, I liked to watch to the string intruments—they moved so quick and with such precision. It was like they were dancing too. The whole combination brought tears to my eyes a couple of times. The orchestra was definitely just as exciting as the dancing.

The third Act came and I noticed a twist that instead of drinking poison Romeo stabbed himself. Choreographers interpretation, didn’t bother me. The whole death scene was not put together as well as I’ve seen it done in other renditions, but it was still the story and it was still ballet and it was still Vienna State Opera with the live orchestra and so the third Act was just as wonderful as the rest. At the end the three loners all walked out to the metro together and then we each headed our separate ways. Me returning to the hostel- it had been a long day and a wonderful evening—now it was bed time!!

Day 2:
I slept in. I knew I was in Vienna and I should get up and take advantage of my time but I was just so tired and it felt so good. I got up around 9:15 or so and meandered down to breakfast at the hostel. I decided today I was going to see some important stuff and find the Vienna my dad was in love with instead of the Vienna where tour guides didn’t show, churches were closed and things kept going wrong. I headed out to Shurnbrunn Palace.

I was a little worried that after my non-excitement about St. Stephen’s the day before that this would be the same. I’d seen Versailles in Paris and Powerscourt in Ireland and Chenanceau, Chambord and Ambois in the Loire Valley and most recently the Doge’s Palace in Venice. Was this going to be different? Was this going to hold my interest? Or, like the Cathedral, was I going to feel like I’d seen it all before- just another tapestry (like the many I’d seen in palaces and museums across Europe)? Just another bed someone famous slept in? Just another room with gilded ceilings and walls? I hoped not, I hoped it’d be different; I hoped it’d be more… but all the same, I was nervous it would be more repetition.

It was not. I mean, yeah, some of it was, There will always be certain aspects that are the same- but it was lovely and outstanding and impressive in every way. It held my interest and I wasn’t the least bit board. The audio guide was informative and interesting. It gave neat stories about the character of the Emperors and the Empresses. It was more about discovering who these people were by way of what they left behind for us to look at than just about the pieces of furniture themselves. I think I like Franz-Joseph. He seems like a cool guy. 

And that was just the palace! Walk out into those gardens!! This, I’ll admit, was a lot like Powerscourt in Ireland, but that made it no less impressive! The sheer vastness of the gardens was unbelievable. I walked through them for a while, but they’re so expansive and I’d already walked through all the Palace rooms, I was getting tired and hungry. I stopped and had bratwurst with fries at a little restaurant right there in the gardens. Then I went off to see the mazes. Yup, this dude had to be cool! He had games in his gardens!! There were three labyrinths- two that just seemed to wind- you couldn’t lose your way- they had games you could play along the way!! And one was a full out maze with the high shrub walls and all the twists and turns. This, I thought, would be more fun to do with someone but I still did it alone and didn’t let my single travel status impede my good times.

I finished there and headed up to the Gloriette- I paid for it, I had to go see it. I walked up the hill (thinking of Regan and our trip to the Grand Canyon we’ll make shortly after I return home… this felt like training). Finally reaching the top, it was, of course, worth it and the view was nice.

I walked back down through the side paths- thinking about how amazing it would be to have been an Empress, wandering through my acres upon acres of gardens, getting lost in their expanse, sitting to enjoy a statue that had been placed amongst the wood for my personal pleasure. How regal this daydream felt!

Exhausted from my 4, almost 4 and a half, hours of walking around I decided I would not tackle another palace or museum today. I headed back to the hostel. But it was too early to end my night there and I couldn’t imagine missing out on so many things I had yet to see, so for dinner I took the bus up to Grinzing. A charming little town in the foothills outside the city, it is known for its wine-cavern style restaurants with live music and a cozy ambiance. Ineed, it was just that. Eating dinner alone at a nice restaurant was, again, not my first choice, but my roommates back at the hostel weren’t interesting in joining me and, again, I wasn’t going to let my seulness get in the way.

The musicians were endearing- an older gentleman played the accordion and he kept winking and me and trying to set me up with the violinist- who was younger, but still too old for me. The older guy would put his hand over one eye and blink—his personal version of winking  and nod his head and point to the violinist and point to his bare fingers and smile. The violinist seemed to be used to this behavior and just kind of went with it- not pushing but not letting it drop either. Cute. They came over and the violinist, who spoke a little English, asked me where I was from, then the Accordian player started in on some song that had something to do with Chicago. When they found out I was living in France the violinist started in on a Parisian love song I recognized but couldn’t name. They were funny. At one point the Violinist refered to his friend as “Casanova”, which made me chuckle.

I had ordered wine with dinner and it came in this big round glass filled almost to the top. It was a ¼ Liter of wine, haha. Nothing like the French who serve their wine in tiny little glasses—these people were drinkers, even if it wasn’t beer. The wine was made there at the winery, or so the information on the placemat said. It was pretty good wine.

I ordered apfelstrudel for desert ‘cause I felt like I couldn’t be in this part of the world and not eat it—so tasty!

The house the restaurant was in is actually 300 years old. It used to be a convent and is labeled as a national monument (again, according to the placemat). It did, honestly, have a lot of character with carved wood ceilings and different kinds of wine corks in cases on the walls. It wasn’t quite a “homey” feeling, but it was definitely… what’s the word I want??... welcoming… relaxing in a fun way… yeah… I don’t know the right word. But it was good.

I finally said goodbye the musicians, paid my bill and wandered into the streets of Grinzig. I was getting dark so I didn’t stray too far before heading back to the bus, Vienna and the hostel. I had a free drink ticket for the bar in the basement of the hostel, so I went down to the bar when I got back and had another glass of wine, just a little one this time. I chatted with the bartender a little. I was doing some laundry so I had a baileys as I waited for it to finish. I chatted with a French guy at the bar for a while too- he had been traveling for a while (strange for a French person, he admitted) and he was enjoying the opportunity to speak in his native language. When my laundry was finally done I took my stuff and headed to bed.

Day 3:
I had heard that the Lippizan Horses at the Spanish Riding School were spectacular, something to see. I wasn’t going to be in town for one of their legendary performances, but daily practices from 10 to 12 were open to the public. So I went. I got off the metro and found the right building and was blown away- it was so ornate! So…European  I went to take a picture and realized I had left my camera back at the hostel; “this is a great start to the day,” I thought to myself sarcastically. But as it turned out you’re not permitted to take pictures of the horses anyway, so it wasn’t too great a loss.

To be honest… the practice was not super impressive. The horses did a lot of practicing their famous prancing; we saw a little of their diagonal walking and different things like that. But they didn’t practice any of the jumps or rising on their hind legs that you see in all the pictures and videos. I waited and waited but the walking and prancing just droned on and on. They switched horses every half hour- never more than 6 at time in the beautiful performing square. By the end of an hour and a half I was ready to fall asleep watching horses walk in circles. I gave up. They were pulling out the last group of horses and I figured there was no way that after all the warming up all those other horses had that they’d bring out this last group and then make them jump and do fun things without all the same prancing and warm up time. I guess I’d have to wait for a real performance to see their tricks.

In the same building as the Spanish riding school is the Imperial Apartments and the Sisi Museum. So I crossed the underpass, stopped for some Goulash lunch- it was chilly out and the warm thick soup tasted good, and then headed in, again, without my camera. But no worries, you can’t take pictures in here either, so I didn’t feel like it was that bad. I got the audio guide and again, just like the Shunbrunn, I found that the guide was better than most, informative and telling the stories. In the Sisi Museum especially it helped you get a feel for the character and personality of these people (Sisi was the nickname for Empress Elizabeth). I was highly impressed with the museum and would recommend it to anyone travelling to Vienna.

After leaving the museum I went back to the hostel briefly to grab my camera. Then I went back to “The Ring” to wander and take pictures of the regal-looking buildings that line Ring Street. Pictures, will, of course be posted soon.

From there I headed over to the Sache Hotel to eat what I’d heard was the most famous and delicious chocolate cake Vienna had to offer. The 175 year old recipe has been kept a strict secret and only here at the Sache Hotel can you eat the original Sache Torte. It was, indeed, a very yummy chocolate cake. I contemplated sending one home to my Nana as a present because I knew she would like it… but then I check the prices to ship one overseas… The cake was good, but it wasn’t THAT good.  Sorry Nana.

I walked further down the street, checking out a few touristy shops here and there and finally reaching the metro that would take me to the famous old ferris wheel. I forget the dates exactly, but it’s the oldest ferris wheel in the world and has been around for well over a hundred years, lasting through both world wars and natural disasters. Unlike most ferris wheels as we know them today, the Prata Ferris Wheel has large cars that hold 9 people very comfortably. Apparently some of the cars were damaged over the years and they have been replaced, but the origionals have been kept and now house little figurines and scenery describing the history of the ferris wheel and the town around it. See pictures… as soon as I load them that is.

I road in car 24 I believe and the other tourists with me were kind enough to take my picture once we rounded near the top. The view was pretty spectacular. Plus it’s just fun to say that I rode in something THAT old! Not gonna lie, it is simultaneously a little concerning and comforting that the apparatus you’re circling on is THAT old and has made it through THAT much!!

At this point I was feeling tired from all my walking around and I knew most the museums and things were closing anyway, so I headed back to the hostel, grabbing dinner on the way. I felt like the utter American because not only did I have to stop at Starbucks to pick up their Austria mug for my friend Marine (she collects them and asked me to grab one for her) I was both tired and craving a simple hamburger. So I walked down the street back to the hostel holding my purse, a Starbucks bag and a McDonalds bag filled with burger and fries. I might as well have a neon sign above me flashing AMERICAN in bright blue and red letters. Oh well, the Europeans love their starbucks and Micky D’s just as much (if not more) than the average American.

I spent the next hour and a half or so getting some work done for school and sending a couple emails online. I was internally debating as to whether, in my exhaustion, I should just go to bed early, or if I should go back to the bar in the basement and have a baileys… I started wondering this around 8:30 and it wasn’t until around 10:00 that I took my computer upstairs, deposited it in my room and returned to the bar in the basement.

I had my Baileys- delicious as always- and the girl behind the bar asked if I’d like another one. We had a brief conversation about how I was contemplating just that but that it truly wasn’t fun to drink alone. She pointed out that there were plenty of other people in the bar and I pointed out that I didn’t know any of them. Soon enough she grabbed her keys and we proceeded to grab one of her friends and one random guy (a Canadian named Mike) into a free game of Foosball. The bar tender and her friend, Doris, were both Austrian and Doris was GOOD at Foosball. After 2 free games Mike’s friends and some other guys that had been playing pool came to watch the fun. Lena (the bartender) had to get back to work, but she gave us one more free game and one of the pool-players took her place on my team. We stank. Doris was so good! She was practically a professional and anyone silly enough to be her opponent (which I somehow always was) never won. As teams changed around and we continued to play (paying for our games now) we came up with fun names for our teams. Team UberProst was a favorite derived from Mike, who loved the “Prost” (cheers in German) and felt the need to PROST! at every score of either team clanked a little too forcefully with Nick’s drink and there was some spillage on the table. Thus it was an “over prost” or UBERPROST!!! Another great name choice was Team Wiener Schnitzel. My team mate Markis, Mike’s brother, was Wiener and I was Schnitzel. Fun times. Clearly the drinking continued, though Bailey’s didn’t quite seem like the appropriate choice here so I switched to Cider. (For those of you who aren’t familiar, Cider is basically beer made from apples. Not to be confused with French cidre or calvados which are bubbly more like sparkling wine and liqueur respectively, also made from apples. You can get alcoholic cider, as we would call it, in the States, but it’s harder to find.)

Between foosball and chatting and losing track of time we ended up closing the bar at around 2am. So much for going to bed early. We headed up to the lobby and I sat around as Mike, Nick, Doris and the guy behind the reception counter all played a game of pool. I was not interested in playing pool at this point. Lena joined us shortly and as the fun of foosball and loud music faded I began to get sleepy, wished everyone a pleasant evening, thanks Lena again for the foosball and helping me meet people to drink with, and headed up to bed thinking that this was a good way to say goodbye to Vienna.