Exploring Vienna

When we first opened the discussion as to the itinerary of this journey, Savannah and I took turns naming any and every place that even remotely captured our imaginations. “Oooh, Vienna!”, Savannah offered with wide eyes.

“We’ll definitely add it to the list", I said. "But what in particular makes you want to go to Vienna?”

“We’ll, I’ve always wanted to go to Germany”, she started. “And it’s Vienna. You know, it’s Vienna. People say that. It’s just…Vienna”. We took a moment to clarify the geography, but frankly, I knew what she meant. Despite being entirely uneducated on Austria and its history, it holds a reputation of regency and an air of importance. As we’d come to find out, our romanticized idea of vague Vienna was born of several hundred years of Habsburg monarchy that shaped the world through the rise and fall of their rule. Of all the places we’ve been or might go, only a select few have left as big of a mark on human history as ‘Wien’.

The transportation systems of European cities are not too dissimilar from house cats. For the most part, they are of a similar nature but each one is just different enough to where you should really become familiar with it before getting hands-on. For this reason, we took an hour-long walk into the aorta of town known as District One. It’s hard not to look up in Vienna. Every building is so antiquated and interesting that one can almost ignore the blaring SUBWAY SANDWICHES sign that’s been retroactively drilled into the side of it. It’s funny how the things you pass on your first day in a new place feel so foreign but quickly become trusted milestones to navigate by. On our way to visit one of the world's largest palaces called Hofburg Wien, we passed Karlskirche ( or St. Charles Church for those of you weak in your religious German).

Together, they and St. Stephan’s Cathedral became the magnetic poles that guided our internal compasses. The Hofburg Wien was a spectacular complex with a rich history and more horse-drawn carriages than there are bachelorette parties in Nashville. We bounced about from courtyard to courtyard snapping photos and eavesdropping on passing tour groups in anticipation of our own walking tour scheduled later that day. Not wanting to spoil the excitement, we exited the complex in search of the nearby Schmetterling Haus (or Butterfly House for those of you weak in your lepidopterous German). For a few euros, we entered a humid paradise of tropical trees, ferns, and flowers absolutely abundant with the little creatures. Home to the worlds least threatening Air Force, fleets of butterflies flutter by in masse, perching on the trunks of trees and spectators alike. From the size of a quarter to the size of your palm, they’d circle your head at eye level as if you’d entered the world of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The most striking of them all were electric blue and notably the largest. You’d spot them flying from across the conservatory but fail to see them from inches away because of the natural camouflage on the underside of their wings. Against the bark of a tree, they are unsightly if not unseen, concealing the content of their colors. Only when they leave hiding and take flight can one fully appreciate them. I’m sure there’s a lesson or drop of poetry somewhere in that.

After the Schmetterling Haus we visited the Vienna clock museum which is home to one of Europe's largest and most intricate selections of sundials, pocket watches, grandfather clocks, hourglasses, and chronometers of every kind. Ironically, it wasn’t worth the time. As we tend to do, Savannah and I turned the underwhelming experience into a game by selecting our favorite pieces and guessing which ones we believed the others to be.

Owning a small number of them myself, I will say that the museum featured a brilliant collection of beautifully crafted pocket watches. All of the clocks struck 3 and we ran off to our walking tour.

Unfortunately for the rest of our group, many of the questions posed to us on our tour revolved around Greek mythology and religious history. Suffice it to say that even I became tired of hearing my own voice offer up answers. After a certain point, I chose to remain silent out of an internal sense of politeness and an external one of public annoyance. Explained by a local, the tattered history of Vienna’s rulers and its role in WWII was easy to appreciate and held our attention. Appreciated more so was the recommendation for the best pastries in town. Vienna may have been home to royal marriage pacts between cousins and a few of Hitler’s diatribes, but it’s also home to the best Apple torte I’ve ever had. Should you visit District 1’s Neuer Markt, ask no questions and locate a confectionery called Oberlaa. A few streets further, our walking tour came to an end. As much as our feet ached from travel, our stomachs ached from hunger. On the advice of a nearby tourist office, we dined at a Gasthaus (or Gastropub for those of you weak in your culinary German). We perused the entire menu for authentic Viennese dishes and settled on schnitzel as we’d done virtually everywhere else. Schnitzel fills all of our requirements:

1. It’s delicious

2. It’s hot

3. It qualifies as authentic local cuisine

4. It’s essentially a giant flat chicken nugget

With our hunger met and an apple torte to share, the two of us sat on the steps of the Karlskirche reflecting pool waiting for the evening’s activity to begin. By day, the churches around the area function as intended. By night, they transform into concert halls where people like us congregate to hear classical music from the minds of Mozart, Beethoven, and (in our case) Vivaldi. In the second to last row, I craned my neck out into the aisles to watch the string group expertly execute the entirety of Four Seasons. Music filled St. Charles for close to 80 minutes and Savannah managed to stay awake for almost 75 of them. In fairness to her, by the time the musicians finished Winter 1 (my favorite piece), I too felt as though I could fall asleep from the mix of melody and miles marched.