Retrospective Vienna

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I’ll be honest. I have tried to write about this particular day for the past month. I have looked at it from every angle and toyed with different styles, trying to think of different emotions I would like to evoke in you. I wanted today to have some meaning for me which I can share to you in some profound way whether it be a childhood dream realised or a small stepping stone to some greater understanding of myself or the world’s existence. Do I want to create profound inspiration or inspire through laughter and funny stories? Do I make this piece informative and inspire you to learn more or will I continue to write it as a journal of the inner workings of my mind (scary as that may be) in a series of what I have come to learn from the entire trip. Remember guys, I am writing this retrospectively. I mean, I know you know I do, but so far I have written it as if it happened on the day. So here is Day 2 in all its brutal honesty with no pharf, no sentence structure, no greater meaning hidden between the lines.

If you had asked me what I know of Austria, I would have thought of Julie Andrews running through the hills with a wimple askew in a country whose name is a dyslexic version Australia. I can vaguely point out where it is on the map, I know of Sacher Torte and they speak German. Habsburg Empire? A Habsburg could be a new Austrian MacDonald’s hamburger special for I knew. I am completely and utterly ignorant of the Austrian Empire, Ottoman Empire and wasn’t there an Austrian-Hungarian Empire. Franz Ferdinand is a Scottish Band, right? All my history education comes from the trivial pursuit questions, 2000 edition. Shamefully but not regretfully I did no reading on Austria, Royal families held no interest for me. In fact, I didn’t even consider the Austrian’s had a royal family.

Dan counted us on and off the U-Bahn (highly efficient and much less claustrophobic than the Tube) dutifully, much like an auto save on Microsoft Office. There is a slight pause, concentration and business at usual speed when satisfied. (For interests sake, there was never a complete malfunction in the head count, despite my attempts to organise a scatter manoeuvre. He caught us every time. Bravo.) The orientation walk began at the Jewish Quarter, predictably at the oldest church in Vienna. I could give you random facts about the church, but that’s just random. Around the corner from the Bermuda Triangle was a pristinely clean cobblestone street of no particular “wow factor”. You know what I mean, you don’t turn around, walk into, look up and think “WOW! Check that out!” It was astonishingly ordinary.

Retrospect. I can’t remember what Dan told us, apart from this “This is the beginning of understanding Anti-Semitism, which is a theme you will find throughout this trip.” This not a direct quote by the way. But once again, you get my drift. He points out the Jewish Synagogue, I think it was to the left of me or it could be the right. The reason why I can’t remember is that it was as ordinary as a residential building. I am certain he told us why, but I wasn’t listening properly, I was still pondering the statement he made previously about this being the beginning of the theme of anti-Semitism.

There is a ‘wow factor’ to St Stephen’s Cathedral though and if you wanted to, you could pay for the privilege of climbing 343 steps to the top of the spire for a view of Vienna through green mesh and scaffolding. Needless to say, avoided. The Hungarian roof tiles is a testament to the blurring of country borders and cultural influences for centuries. Nice sentence huh? But I just thought it was pretty at the time. Dan was enthusiastically (well he sounded enthusiastic which is what counts) telling us one of the many stories of the different Cathedral towers. One was a stubby version of the other, which is unusual as symmetry was quite important. This is my problem, my attention span. Dan was telling the story of the architect who while in the process of designing, constructing or something or rather to the tower, fell in love with the daughter of who commissioned him to do so blah blah blah. His story became background noise as I was entirely distracted by the many men and women dressed up in 20kilos worth of finery of Mozart and Opera singers. They were also wearing the equivalent weight in make up. Miraculously they looked immaculate despite the baking European sun. I looked like I had done two rounds of the treadmill and there was not even one sweat streak on any of the Opera hawkers. Also, why do the female Opera singers all have a mole on the cheek? It seems like a prerequisite, like the powder white horse hair wig. Anyway, digression over, I turned my attention back to Dan and he had already finished the story. That’s the thing about me, osmosis. I at least managed to filter in the basics of the story (not unlike having the television on and being able to work out the plotline of the present week’s Neighbours by the commercials while doing some required house chore) - male in the building business, gets distracted by female and screws up the job. Sounds rather familiar if you ask me. This is in no way reflection of Dan’s ability to engage the group, it is me, not him.

Behind a piece of sturdy Perspex on a stone block by the door of the cathedral is historical vandalism. Carved into the stone is ‘O5’. Dan explained it was the symbol of the Austrian Resistance to Hitler’s occupation of Austria. I can tell you this much, five minutes after he explained what O5 meant, I forgot. What I do remember is this “This is a reminder that not all Austrian’s supported Hitler during the war.” My reply, “I believe the Sound of Music taught us that.” Its true, what can’t those wily Von Trapps teach us? If I was in Salzburg, I would be on the Sound of Music Walking Tour. If not for the kitsch value but to at least see Lisa spinning around the hills in a wimple.

Dan took us to the Winter Palace of the Habsburgs which is now home to some Museums (about the Austrian Royal Folks and their royal belongings), the Viennese Boys Choir and Spanish Riding School, (Dancing Horses are unnatural. I will firmly maintain they shouldn’t be made to wear frilly outfits and walk sideways).
“What about the rest?” Lisa asked, “Are they just rented out as business space?”
“Yes. Can you imagine, such and such business, address ‘The Hofberg Palace’.” Dan replied. I laughed, not just because it was funny, but I was thinking along similar lines. Despite the rather informative history lesson we were getting, he was still thinking like, well, me.

Next, we were sat down in a quiet corner of the garden devoted to Sisi, wife of … of… ugh, I don’t remember. I think it was Josef but really all of them were called Josef or Franz with a number tacked behind it. Doesn’t matter because they were cousins. What is with the royal family and inbreeding? No wonder there is no surviving Habsburg, they had managed to inbreed themselves out of existence. At any rate, it was a nice rest stop for us without any other peripheral noise to distract us from what Dan had to tell us. Sisi was the much loved people’s Austrian Princess of her time, not unlike Diana, Princess of Wales. Both adored by the public, but hated it. Both beautiful and in cold marriages. Both had eating disorders and both died in tragic and slightly controversial circumstances. “On a trip abroad in Italy, a young anti-royalist, having found out that the Austrian Princess was in town decided she was a better target than the Italian Royals (side note, were there Italian Royals? Besides, I am not even sure if he said this, but you get my drift again). As Sisi was walking down the street, he stabbed her to death, in broad daylight!” The performance was quite dramatic if anything else. My thought, ‘I wonder what his re-enactment of Diana’s death would be like? Would he hurl himself into the tunnel wall? Hhhmmm… that would be painful but quite dramatic.’

The walking tour eventually ended at the Sacher Café for the famous Sacher Torte. A technically perfect chocolate cake. The glossy smooth even icing its trademark. “You’ve made a Sacher?” Dan asked. I nodded in between mouthfuls of torte and swallows of Sacher Coffee.
“Why didn’t I get any?” Lisa asked in a semi-perturbed tone.
“Can’t remember, I think it was for a clinical practical. And yes it takes forever and no it didn’t taste this good.” I have this theory. No supervisor will ever fail you if you bring in baked goods. If my clinical supervisor had known what a real Sacher should taste like, I probably would have failed.

Dan left us to our own devices or mischief. Rosie, Lisa and I stood around indecisively for a while before I suggested going back to the Hofberg Palace. I wanted better pictures and the tourist in me figured it is something you should see while in Vienna. I had a feeling Lisa would have liked to go inside the Museum so I suggested that. Armed with audio guide, we all went in to look at plates. At lot of plates. If a sign of wealth and importance is by the number of plates you should have, then the Austrian’s have it. Not that I have much to compare to as I can’t remember going into a museum devoted entirely to plates. Mind you, no other royal family had such a fetish for dinner ware. By audio guide station number 24, I was bored with who gave what dish to which Austrian Emperor/Prince/family for which occasion. It was a glorified home wares department and frankly there were some horrendously ugly dishes. Not to mention a silver plated chamber pot. Rosie and I finished at roughly the same speed and to make the most of our ticket we went through the Kaiser apartments.

“She must be anorexic,” Rosie whispered to me, holding her audio guide away from her ear. Only Rosie could say that to me and understand what I would be thinking when I nodded and rolled my eyes. Even though Dan had already told us that Sisi had an eating disorder, the signs of the classic anorexic/bulimic was glaring at both Rosie and I in the face. From the fan of vanity to the 14th century wooden equivalent of an abdominiser, this woman had issues with her self-esteem. She was a martyr for herself. I couldn’t stand her! Honestly, her son dies and she spends the rest of her life wearing black and became mysteriously recluse. Look, I am not being cold, yes I know I am not a mother and I wouldn’t know what it would be like to lose a child BUT, she had other children. There was nothing about her other children in this tribute to Sisi and in fact there was no mention of her son till he carked it and she went all maudlin. His death was an excuse for her behaviour. If she truly loved her children there would be more about them and if she was a truly wonderful and loving mother she would have gotten over it and loved her LIVING children all the more. Okay, I’ll pack away the soapbox now. By the time I reached the end of the museum, I was a little ball of frustrated grump until I read about her death. “On a trip abroad to recuperate (from what it doesn’t say), she was walking along the street when she was bumped by a young anti-royalist who sought to kill Sisi, the Austrian Princess. Falling to the ground, Sisi thought nothing of it and was helped to her feet by her ladies in waiting before continuing onto her ship. Unbeknownst to her, the youth had nicked her with the tip of a knife under bodice and a drop of blood was forming. A few hours later on the boat she looked down to see the drop of blood and promptly fell over in her cabin and died.” Not quite as dramatic as Dan’s version but made me laugh untastefully loud in front of an old couple. Whoops but it brought a smile to my face and made the price of the ticket worth it.

At any rate, I found myself sitting in the sun with Rosie waiting for Lisa to finish. “She must be reading every single thing and stopping at every single station.” Rosie commented.
“Yes. That’s Lisa. In fact that was me four years ago, but things have changed.” I looked at the crowd of people laying on the grass enjoying silent company under the warmth of the mid-afternoon sun. On a day like this, why be inside? I know I wouldn’t be back in Vienna (or so I thought at the time) anytime soon, but I just did not want to be indoors looking at dinnerware.

The balcony where Hitler addressed the Austrian public during the third Reich is surreal. I will give you that. A little over fifty years ago, people stood shoulder to shoulder to listen to a man who went on to commit the biggest what? Atrocity? Moment in history? Genocide? What ever it is we would like to call it or what you would like to call it, it makes me sick and scared to think that it ever happened, that it could possibly happen again and what I would do if I was one of those people in that crowd. Would I be the old woman with one hand held in the air hailing Hitler but weeping uncontrollably into her other hand in fearful resignation or would I be that stubborn youth hands, firmly by his side and possibly sealing his deadly fate? Either way, that moment last about five minutes but it was an important five minutes.

Eventually the rest of the day was all about international food fairs, mega daiquiris and Mozart on the big screen at the Rathaus.
“Wouldn’t it be cool if you had that room?” Dan whispered pointing to the balcony of the rather grand Town Hall.
“Yes, but you wouldn’t get the view of the Town Hall which is the best bit,” I replied.
“True,”
“However, if you had that much money that you were living in the Town Hall in the first place, you could put up a giant mirror opposite it to give you a reflection of the Town Hall.” I theorised.
“Ahh, good point.” Then I thought to myself, think of the endless hours of amusement watching pigeons fly smack bang into it. Like I said before, my attention span is not so great and I had long lost interest in Mozart. Not long before the end, the mega daiquiri called and I made my way to the temporary loos to be confronted by a toilet bouncer. Big, burly, balding man in a green plaid shirt and grey pants held by suspenders. With a dirty rag slung over the right shoulder (yes, I know, I don’t remember which side of the street the Jewish Synagogue was on, but I know which side the rag was over the toilet bouncer’s shoulder), and thumped open a cubicle. I walked in and he shouted some instructions to me before proffering a fat thickened palm for fifty euro cents. I don’t know what he shouted at me, what with my German being non-existent, but I dearly hope it wasn’t going to incur any further rapid German wrath once I was done with my business. I didn’t.

The night ended with me saying goodbye to Rosie as we were to head off to the Czech Republic at the crack of dawn and feeling no more for Vienna than I came with. Or so I thought. Whether or not I realised it, a seed was planted in my head about the history of the Anti-Semitism, the holocaust and the unnecessary deaths of so many people and or reasons I fail to or refuse to understand. On coming back to England and beginning this blog, I read about Austrian Jews and the Freedom Fighters. And while at the time I couldn’t tell you what Dan told me on the walking tour, I can now. While I did no research about Austria before arriving, I certainly did when I came back. Is that not the meaning of travel? Being inspired to find out more? The reason why I couldn’t I tell you which side of the street the Jewish Synagogue was on is because it was built to resemble a residential building by orders of the Austrian Powers that be as only THEIR churches and places of worship were allowed to be free standing buildings. The synagogue only survived Hitler’s Nazi troops because they too didn’t know what it was. Irony.

I remember what O5 means now. I know how many Austrian freedom fighters died in the concentration camps and I know that the black plague killed less than 10% of Austrians than Hitler did. I can tell you all that now. That is Vienna for me, the beginning of my own understanding of the holocaust and genocide, whether or not I knew it. I am back to where I started, writing to you this now (Pickwicks Café, slightly miserable day weather wise and scuppered plans to go to a museum with an empty coffee cup next to my non-travel friendly laptop), hoping that maybe you will want to come to Vienna and leave, wanting to know more.

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Photos

A Midget's View
St Stephan's Cathedral as seen by little me.

O5
a bit glary but you get the point...

Historic Damage
Unrepaired damage from WWII - kept as a reminder.

Old & New
Moving ahead in St Stephansplatz

Sissi's Playground
Solemn after Dan's dramatic renactment of her assassination...

Murder Victim
The outline of a chapel destroyed in WWII.... CSI?

Hofberg Palace
Of what I could squeeze in without the millions of tourists in it...

Alpha Male Statues
One of many statues dipicting the talents of man... fighting naked men, clubbing 2 headed snakes, strangling horned beasts...

Third Reich Balcony
The Balcony of Hitler's declaration of Austria's unification with Germany.

Rathaus
Beautiful Old Town Hall & International Food Festival, mega daiquiri anyone?

Rosie & Me
A night out with Mozart and saying goodbye again!