The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

December 28

My wallet and I were looking forward to breakfast, which was going to be an actual sit down breakfast (instead of a croissant on the go) and free from the hotel. It was a buffet style breakfast, so it was a fairly typical hotel breakfast … but still, it was good to sit, eat, and not pay money. Also it was certainly European style rather than American – random cheese plate with deli meats? Sure, I guess I can eat that? Am I supposed to make a sandwich here? What am I doing?

After breakfast we walked to an art museum that was not far from our hotel – I was excited about this, the first art museum of the trip! There’s not much to say about the art museum … I mean, I could say a lot, but it’d be me doing a poor job of describing beautiful paintings, and I think we can agree that we don’t need that. The museum did have one really interesting, in a dorky way, display about the history of how the museum is decorated. It is something that I don’t give any thought to, but it was interesting to read about periods of the walls being full of paintings (as it was for our visit) versus times when they were sparsely adorned. Something something reflection of the popular culture of the times? I don’t know, I visited that display at the end of our visit so that information was mostly lost.

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After the museum we got on the hop on/hop off bus and rode that for a while. The bus was very crowded so the lady and I took different seats on the upper level. The bus had cheap ear buds they gave you, and jacks at each seat, along with a control where you could listen to descriptions of what you were driving by in up to 15 or possibly more different languages. I ended up sitting next to an old Italian man, and my wife had my ear buds. The Italian man was with a big group and he spoke no English, so we exchanged awkward nods and half-hearted smiles with each other. He was plugging his ear buds in and apparently having troubles, I pointed to the volume and he shook his head no, I pointed to the language options and he shook his head no. Somehow (how? really? how? I have no memory of this) he communicated to me that no sound was coming out at all. The bus stopped and my wife ran back, handed me my ear buds, and went back up to the front of the bus to her seat. I plugged my headphones in and sure enough, no sound for my input jack either. We looked at each other and gave a language-independent, ‘eh, whatever’ look. I felt pretty good about my old Italian buddy.

Soon enough the Italians all hopped off and my wife came and joined me. We rode the bus for a while more, seeing the city and making notes of all the places we would love to visit (still bummed I didn’t visit the military museum!) but knew we probably wouldn’t have the time for.

We made our way back to the hotel early because we needed to get ourselves some food and then prettied up for the opera. THE OPERA!

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After some room service burgers (pretty tasty – and ironic, considering we were also preparing for the Vienna Opera) we headed out. I had not bought a tie or blazer (we were in a nice part of the city and ties were not cheap, I didn’t even bother looking at blazers). Had there been a cool Viennese tie I would’ve bought that, but it was just overpriced brands I could get at home – and who wants that as a souvenir? Hey check out my Ralph Lauren tie from Vienna! Pft.

The opera was the Magic Flute, written by some nobody … Wolfgang something or other. Who names their kid Wolfgang? You want your kid hanging out with wolves? I mean, come on.

The opera house was BEAUTIFUL inside, and there were some very beautifully dressed ladies there. Fur coats, apparently, are not a faux pas like they are here in the States. Little old ladies wearing their weight in fur, younger women in beautiful gowns, fellas looking nice (we fellas have the nicety of not having to try hard with our standard nice outfits, but we also don’t look quite so glamorous). We pulled out our tickets and were directed to our seats and … THEY WERE BOX SEATS! WHAT?! Who are we? How fancy are we!?

We had arrived nice and early thinking we would have to go do coat check (a fancy thing already) but instead we have our own little entry room to hang our coats? What!?

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Our box had six seats – in front of us were two French people (an older man, and a woman), ourselves, and then a couple from Chicago. They had apparently tried to buy their tickets a year in advance, were on a waiting list, and eventually got them. Either our hotel clerk is a magician, or we are very lucky people (because our tickets weren’t that much).

The box had little displays to show the translations of the German opera.

The first act was enjoyable, but the warmth of the place was leading me to be a little sleepy. It’s not that I wasn’t enjoying it, it’s just that it had been a long day of moving around and it was so soothing to be still and warm. I kept doing little tricks to stay awake, and at intermission I walked around. They had someone selling ice cream or gelato. This made me respect the Viennese opera even more – ice cream at intermission? Be still my beating heart.

The second act was better than the first, and as I wrote in a postcard, it featured the most beautiful singing I have ever heard in my life. The aria from the Queen of the Night was incredible – I could feel my body warming from the power and beauty of the woman’s voice. It was incredible.

My wife and I had our first (and so far only) opera experience at the Vienna Opera, which may have been a mistake. I imagine we will have to try hard to reach that level of amazing (the costumes, the voices, the setting, everything was incredible – but most especially the Queen of the Night). Nevertheless, we are now two opera admirers which is not something I ever would have guessed (don’t get me wrong, I love me some Frasier, I just didn’t think I’d take on Frasier’s love of opera).

After the opera we walked back to our hotel feeling elevated and lifted by how beautiful things can be. Not a bad set of thoughts to carry off to dreamland.

(Ok, not to detract from that pretty ending to the day, but … at the opera the other fun thing to observe was the couple in front of us. The woman was maybe 10-20 years younger. At one point during the show she was excited about how good it was and she grabbed the mans hand to hold it and set it on her leg, then a minute later very sternly and annoyed removed his hand and gave him a look. My theory: she was using him for gifts/shows, the lady’s theory: she was his mistress. What fun is the opera if you can’t make up a little theater for those around you?)

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December 29

Waking up in a foreign country is exciting, everything is new and worth observing and paying attention to, everything is exciting and full of potential, and when your wife has a cold, it’s worse than a cold at home. It takes even more out of you because it’s sapping you of so much potential. The lady woke up feeling worse instead of better, the magic drugs were not so magical after all.

We had breakfast and then headed to the buses to see Schönbrunn Palace, which is where Marie Antionette lived for part of her life (among other names in history). The palace was a big tourist draw, and despite the fact that we arrived right at opening (10 am) it was still a packed house that we walked through.

The tour takes you from room to room, and you can get a little audio device that tells you what you’re looking at. The rooms had wallpaper that was noticeable (normally that’s not something I pay attention to) – the colors were so rich and beautiful you couldn’t help but admire walls. That’s a feat, to have walls worth admiring (Trump joke goes here). The furniture was also impressive, and we saw a royal bed. This made me think of how weird it was back in the day … mistresses and public sex. Public sex because how would you know a future king is from the right pair unless you hang around and watch the magic happen. But with how common side cars were, couldn’t a queen have given birth to an illegitimate kid? (Maybe I’m watching too much Game of Thrones.)

Anywho.

After the palace we walked around the Christmas booths that were set up there and bought a few little ornaments. More exciting than those, in theory at least, was a booth that was all bread stuffs. I bought a pretzel doughnut which did not live up to its name. Pretzel doughnut is a hard notion to really live up to, though. It was basically just a pretzel with sugar on it.

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From there we headed to lunch nearby. There was a pizza shop and we thought it’d be good. We walked in and realized, apparently, that right next to this tourist hub is a much more mean looking area. Our waitress was a very Russian looking woman with tattoos – a lot of tattoos. This is worth mentioning because she may have been the only person I saw there with tattoos.

(Europeans vs Americans: Americans are big on beards and tattoos these days but have kicked the cigarettes, Europeans are the opposite.)

The pizza we had was delicious, despite the fact that we were seated next to the smoking room. (A glass door separated us from a small room, I thought it was some sort of cool private lounge area but no – it was the cancer lounge. See?, they’re still big on cigarettes.)

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After the food was done we made our way back to the hotel. The lady took a nap (sicker, and sicker) while I putzed around taking pictures of things including: one attempt at a selfie with a statue of a half woman/half lion with her chest exposed … I didn’t try too hard to take this picture because I felt very self-conscious, but I thought it’d make for a funny picture for me to show the lady.

For dinner we went back to the cafe where we had lunch the first day. We had figured the food there was good, it was close by, and the lady was not feeling top notch so it seemed a good idea to get more soup for her. It was fun staring at everyone around us, dressed very nicely, wondering what shows they were going to.

Vienna, I would like to visit you again one day and see more of your shows and more of your city. The shorter days of winter really worked against our ability to cram as much into a day as possible. But hey, it’s good to have a reason to go back.

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