Had to set an alarm to get out in time today. Walked to the U-bahn station and picked up some sandwiches along the way. Arrive at Wien Meidling train station (there are 4 in town), and learned a good lesson: confirm departure time before setting off to the station! We could have slept in another 30 minutes, but I mis-remembered the time. Oh well, walked over to Strock and had some coffee, then headed over. Train pulled in at 9:28, and at 9:33, only a couple minutes late, it pulled out.
We’re in for a 5 hour ride – no express train to Praha (Deutche for Prague), so we settled in (yes, we purchased reserved seats this time) for the long ride. No wifi on this, older train, so wrote pages to be uploaded later to the blog, played bridge on my iPad, and enjoyed the misty countryside. Sometimes green, planted fields and sometimes hilly terrain covered with brush. Small towns show us roads, old buildings and beautiful steeples. The swaying of the train on the curving tracks lulls me into a coma-like state (or is that still digestive needs from last night?) and the trip passes uneventfully. I do pull out the slice of sachertorte from the Hotel Sacher, and take a big bite. How life surprises us! The cake is wonderful, but I prefer my sachertorte icing – darker and thinner – to theirs. I guess it’s like growing up with your mother’s cooking: her version is always the favorite. It also serves as another reminder of something I have learned: never assume the person on the other end of the phone knows any more than you do about what you’re calling to ask about. What I mean is, it is SO easy to have a story in one’s head about how something is going to be: romantic, awful, beautiful, luscious, too much, etc etc. But usually those stories are embellished in my head in a way to make the actual experience kind of a disappointment. Having expectations frames every experience so differently than just showing up like a blank slate. But enough of waxing philosophical. I’m lucky I had the chance to finally taste something that was a story of legend for me and to go right to the source. A good cook is a good cook, whether the original or not.
We are met at the train station by our ride to the hotel, Pod Vezi (which means “under the bridge”), right at the foot of the famous Charles Bridge. We’re still pretty tired, so take a nap for an hour or so, then head out for a walk. It’s more like a maze – trying to work our way through the hordes of tourists. Charles Bridge seems like the most popular place in the city (and that opinion doesn’t change throughout our stay) for photos and just hanging out. We cross to the other side of the Vltava river, and wander through the streets. The Jewish quarter, museums and the famous old town square are all incredibly picturesque – at least what you can see through the throngs.
We wander some more, and duck into a pub that I’d read about. Order a couple of dark beers (I decided when in Rome…)
and snacks and play a couple of games of rummy 500. Have some dinner and enjoy the fact that we’re the only english-speaking customers. We do not enjoy the fact that smoking is allowed in pubs. Oh, well.
Pretty tired, we walk our way back to our room, thoroughly enjoy the lit-up buildings
and decide to set the alarm for 6:30ish so we can get out and see the place when it’s empty.