Vienna

As some prefer what I consider to be castrated writing, I shall now summarize Vienna in only 17 syllables.

Went to Vienna.

I had a wonderful time.

Can you believe it?

Also, I don't wish to trespass to chattels (which is what I discovered "spam" is this semester), so if these emails and the replies from the peanut gallery are too much, let me know and I'll pull you off the list (and rest assured, I most certainly won't be offended...except if it's from you, Mom and Dad).

For the rest of you who might care to hear the overblown story:

First I must thank the inestimable David T----, who caught an egregious typo in one of the previous emails. The Parthenon in Athens is not a dome; the Pantheon in Rome is. I was concentrating a bit too hard on these strange German keyboards and didn't catch it. Also, David informed me that the Pantheon was surpassed by the Duomo in Florence in 1440, though there's some contention as to that fact (at least on what I could find on so reliable a source of information as the Internet). But, without further ado...

I got off the train in Vienna and headed into town. Different country, same bleak weather; I love it. The hostel is called "Believe It or Not Hostel." I hope I don't wake up in the middle of the night with a knife to my throat and a husky voice saying, "NOT!"

I ditched the bags and set out for the heart of Vienna, the old town, and was delighted to discover that the Viennese are classy people, what with the "Peep Show!" club and the dirty video store, whose sidewalk window proudly displayed the uncensored cover to "Anal Adventures", along with several items that even I, with my warped, soldier perversity, couldn't figure out how they could possibly be used on the human body. Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore.

I stopped to eat at a restaurant that specializes in schnitzels as I'd only had pork for every meal since I'd arrived in Europe. Before I spoke, the waitress handed me an English menu and sat me down. When she came back, she asked me what I wanted to drink. I responded with a perfect Bavarian accent, "Haben sie dunkelweizen?" She took a step back and gasped, as though the family poodle had spoken. She regained her composure and came back shortly with my dark, wheat nectar. As for the meal, I guessed and ended up getting a schnitzel (deep-fried pork loin) covered in ham and cheese to go along with deep fried potatoes. At the rate I'm going with vitamins and vegetable consumption, I'll have scurvy in the next few weeks.

I carried the bowling ball of food in my gut as I explored the city. Vienna is flat-out gorgeous. From the museums (which I didn't go inside...all museumed out for a few days), to the palaces, to the parliament, to the rathaus (city hall), every building was larger than life and exquisite. In front of the rathaus was a Christkindlmarkt that put the one in Berlin to shame, and when I entered the rathaus, there were all sorts of arts and crafts classes for children being held, where they learned to make cookies and paint ornaments. As there were many hundreds, if not over a thousand, small children screaming in one place, I quickly got the hell out.

I stopped by the Freud Museum but didn't go in. I wonder how many first-year psych majors would love to go there. On a completely different note, why are psych majors usually crazy as hell? Maybe the population as a whole is and I just notice them because of the hypocrisy, like dissolute divinity majors.

After stopping off to see Roman ruins and inspecting the perfectly nice but forgettable Dom, I made my way to the Karlskirche (St. Charles Church). I've never seen a church with triumphal columns in the manner of Trajan or Napoleon before, but that wasn't the remarkable part about the church. It was undergoing extensive renovations to the dome frescoes and had scaffolding up 100 feet above. There was an elevator for tourists and so up I went.

Arriving at the rickety platform, I grabbed a rail and looked down. Looking down that far inside a building makes a strange, strange feeling. On that platform was another smaller scaffolding that rose another 40-50 feet to the cupola. Up I went again, taking my time to admire the massive frescoes and to ponder how exactly the then-75y.o. (now long dead) artist managed to make that in five years (right as he finished he died). From up in the cuppola, the view wasn't spectacular, but that was definitely a case where it was the journey, not the destination.

As it was dark, I went back to the rathaus to soak in the ambience of the market and I was mightily impressed by the lighting. During the day, I hadn't noticed, but, up in the massive leafless trees on either side of the market and in front of the rathaus, all sorts of ornamental lights in the shapes of hearts, stars, candy canes, etc. had been hung up. At night, the skeletons of the trees couldn't be seen, just the lights, and so they looked like they were floating in place. Those, along with the white and blue lights used to accentuate the 16th century gothic rathaus, were indescribably beautiful.

I was in such a fantastic mood about the vibe of the whole place that I didn't even mind the bazillion tiny children caterwauling. For some reason, it make me think of when I was small and they used to dress up King Street and shut down traffic. I don't know if that memory is real or not, but I hope it is.

Finally, I tore myself away and headed to one of Vienna's many coffee shops. Admittedly, I felt stupid asking for a decaf Irish coffee, but that damn caffeine is a killer. In all honesty, I've been drinking much less over here, away from all of my friends. I guess I was right when I told one of them, "I drink to make you more interesting."

With one day in Vienna in the books, I can easily say that this is a fantastic city and one of the best Christmas experiences I can remember having. It's too back I enjoyed it so much, because, of course, I won't remember it.