No, I did not have a vision starring Jim Nabors. Woke up this morning, packed, and prepared to spend the morning catching the blog up until we left for the train station and our 3:10 express train. Had to check out at noon, so headed down with everything, planning to hang out in the coffee room until time to head out, and keep the option for a last walk through the ‘hood. As I’m checking out, I notice a couple being helped by the other receptionist, and the woman very stylish indeed. I notice her shoes, which I love, but really am taken by her backpack, which appears both practical and nice-looking. Just the thing I’ve been pondering. I prick up my ears, to see if they speak english, and once I ascertain they do, I swoop in. I explain that I admire her bag, does she know who makes it. We look through together and find the maker. Her husband comments that it takes a long time for her to remember what’s where, there are so many pockets (a plus to me). I laugh and say that’s a good memory exercise. They smile and step back, and she says “your face looks familiar, what’s your name?” I tell her Baydush, and the husband just about falls over laughing and the woman exclaims “I’m Paulette!” Well, for those of you not related to me, she is the second wife of my father’s brother and mother to one of my first cousins! We haven’t seen each other in about 15 years and it’s fantastic to see her again. Not much has changed in her spirit, and she looks great. We chat for about 10 minutes (their cab is waiting) and we do our best to catch up in that short time. A great “small world” story!
So Lance and I head out and walk to the metro, and a couple of stops later, we are in the train station. We are going to take the 1:10 train instead of the 3:10 (Why not? said Henry B. Swap, in a way that’s wasn’t so mean after all). We are in the international ticket office at 12:15, and take a number. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the numbers as they pop us, and we get frustrated that we won’t get called. Another couple buys us a second ticket, saying we’d gotten the wrong ones the first time. That causes the “information” guy to come over and scold us that it’s only one ticket per customer. When we try to explain that we were told we’d gotten the wrong ticket the first time, he continues to hold up his index finger and say “one only…one only” over and over. Damn. It’s now 12:55 and it seems we’re no closer to being called. I run to the information kiosk and ask if we can buy tickets on the train, but he just says no and shrugs his shoulders and says not much we can do about the inefficiency of the international ticket office. So frustrating. Of course, our number is called just as the train is pulling out, long after many people who came in after us have been helped.
Well, it’s a beautiful day, so we take our bag lunch and suitcases outside of the station, sit on a big communal bench, and have a bite to eat while enjoying the sunshine. I actually find internet service out there, so plug away at the blog until I get so baking hot that we head back inside. I sit at a bench and continue to work until Lance signals that our train is in and we head over to get seats. We’re one of the first on the train, so no problem finding any. It’s not until 15 minutes before departure that we’re notified that we’re in reserved seats (and of course the wonderful ticket agent told us that that wasn’t necessary) and we scramble for about 10 minutes to find seats that aren’t reserved. We have to move a couple of times, and we finally land in two seats across the aisle from each other. Close enough. Not our best experience!
The 3-hour express train ride is fairly uneventful. Train travel in Europe is generally a joy – I can play games and read on the iPad and enjoy the beautiful countryside whenever I want.
A delightfully on-time arrival (unlike the seat I had across from a crying 6 year-old little boy almost the whole way. thank goodness for bose noise-canceling earbuds and the federation!) and then into a taxi and we’re at the hotel in about 10 minutes. It’s a very narrow building that looks like it was added onto the end of the block and forced the road to be made smaller – I’m looking forward to finding out the history of this one.
We unpack a bit and hit the street. I am excited to be here, having had a fairy-tale-like picture of what Vienna would be like. We stroll only a couple of blocks to the Ringstrasse (an almost circular tram/road way around the innermost district of the city) and turn right. Another couple of blocks and we are standing in front of the historic Vienna Opera House, where we will be seeing the ballet on my birthday. We continue the walk down Karstnerstrasse, which is a pedestrian mall for the most part, and has side streets with some very exclusive stores. Fun window shopping!
We walk into St. Stephen’s church (yes, another one), but agree it doesn’t compare to those we saw in Budapest. Circle back around and I ask to stop in the Hotel Sacher. Oh my. Let me say that again: oh my. The rich ambience and history in the bar, the sitting room and the Anna Sacher Cafe are impossible to describe (but of course I will try). Wooden paneled walls, incredible antique chandeliers, velvet upholstered chairs and banquets, high ceilings and the quiet murmur of private conversations all make me feel like, yes, I’m in Vienna. None of these rooms are large, but they don’t need to be. I am so thrilled to just sink into one of the chairs. Lance walks by the cheese cart outside the restaurant and suddenly (ha!) suggests we make a reservation for dinner after the ballet (it’s right across the street from the Opera House). We do.
As we leave and walk back past the Opera House, we see that there is a very large screen on the side of this old building, about 15′ x 30’, and they are streaming the Opera, live, from within the (sold out) building. There are cement benches all lined up, obviously permanent, and they are filled with Austrians enjoying the show. There are people standing about watching as well. What a great idea!
We walk back into our neighborhood and head to a little coffeehouse that Lance has researched called “Phil”. Evidently the people who started this originated the concept (here) of everything in the cafe is for sale: books, DVDs, furniture, lights, whatever. And a lot of the things furnishing the store/coffeehouse are put together by regular customers. People are hanging out, listening to David Byrne and then his earlier incarnation, the Talking heads, and we have a snack and chat for a while before heading back to rest up for our two days to experience the city.