Thirty-Seven: Cake for Breakfast

After some preliminary research I knew what our weekend in Vienna would be about. Cake. Cake and possibly pastries. We flew in on Friday night. A voice identical to Schwarzenegger's greets us over the terminal's loudspeaker. We take the S-bahn (here's yet another comprehensive public transpo system - train, tram, metro, bus, horse and carriage) to our hotel on the edge of the Old City.

Saturday morning begins with topfenstrudel - similar to cheese blintz - and wiener melange (the Viennese version of cappuccino). Then random strolling. There are Christmas markets on practically every corner. We drink apple punch and eat mohnstrudel (poppy seed strudel) at one, then meander down Kohlmarkt and Karntner Strasse - popular pedestrian fairways. We walk through Hofburg Palace to the Museum Quarter and yet another market. I really want to see the Lipizzaner's practice but they're on tour in Virginia.

We sample the famous torte at Sacher Cafe (they've also got to die for topfenstrudel). We wait in line for standing room Opera tickets - Wagner's Gotterdammerung. For four Euros, we figure we can get just a taste then sneak out of the Five hour performance. We tie our scarves to the rail - per local custom - to reserve our spot then wander off to admire the lobby and get a quick bite. When we return at the designated hour two women have commandeered our spots and will not move. We enlist the help of fellow standing-roomers and the hard-boiled Fräulein Usher, who moves them over just enough to wedge us in. Oh, but it's crowded; we're jammed together like cigarettes in a fresh pack. And it's hot. Looking back toward the exit I think, "we're not getting out of here anytime soon." Kim sisses, "what if there's a fire?" Oh great. Now I'm planning an emergency exit strategy and realizing my jeans are too tight to climb over the balcony like I'll need to... The lights dim and the curtain goes up. Shiver-inducing applause rises all around. I think, "Wow, we're at the Opera in Vienna!" Then the 'action' starts. Ummm. Yeah. Hmmmm. Well, they certainly can sing... What exactly is the plot here? Was that rotund man's wiggle move supposed to be a leap of some sort?

About 20 minutes in I begin to recognize the surrounding balconies as Dante's Levels of Hell, through which we are rapidly sinking. After an hour or so Kim whispers, "are you ready to go?" "Oh so ready" I reply. During a brief pause between numbers we elbow our way through the thinning crowd and past Fräulein Usher - our former hero - who "shhhhsh!"-es us emphatically.

The air outside feels like... AIR! Beautiful, beautiful air. We wander. We bumble onto the spectacular Wiener Christkindlmarkt at Rathausplatz. Apple and orange punch! Fried dough! Potato pancakes! Fifty-thousand varieties of pastry and cookie! Sausage with cheese baked right in! Who the hell needs Opera?

On Sunday we have breakfast at Demel - cake and pastries. It's very, very good. We visit Klimt and friends at Belvedere - you know, Prince Eugene of Savoy's summer place. Then we return to the Rathausplatz market for lunch because we can't get enough cheese-wurst. After lunch it's back to the airport and Amsterdam.

Next up; Christmas markets in Koln.