Our stay in Vienna was short and eventful. Hostel Ruthensteiner was a really cool hostel with probably the best common room of all the places we stayed. The main attraction was a bar stocked with local beer as well as hot wine. Across from the bar laid comfy couches and coffee tables, perfect for surfing the internet if you had a laptop. Beyond the bar were standard chairs and tables, a good layout for board games or cards. Musical instruments lined the walls and the lighting set the mood for a relaxed night in.
During the life of my two “big beers” at the bar, I feel like I got to know the bartender, James. James is English and has been living in Vienna for a short time. He spends his time taking 15 hours of German class a week, working at the hostel bar 3 nights a week, and teaching English on the side to make ends meet. He lives a simple life and I can only assume he doesn’t have many possessions (based on the fact that he lives in the hostel). He likes his jobs and he doesn’t work all that much. With James being just two years older than me, there’s something about his situation that lights me up and gives me a glimmer of hope. Maybe it’s the idea that if you pack your bags and completely relocate, you can make it. Something tells me James hadn’t planned on living in a hostel before he came to Vienna. It seems that he followed his heart to Vienna and decided to stay. James is an example that I’ve been looking for to show me that you don’t have to live in your parent’s home until you find a job. Things will work out in the end.
After falling asleep quickly, the whole dorm was rudely awakened by some drunkard snoring his face off. Mind you I take out my hearing aids to go to bed and this guy’s snoring kept me up. I couldn’t handle it and showered before 7AM. Breakfast cost me 2.5 E and I got a bowl of muesli and some bread with nutella.
Once Matt was ready, we hit the streets and headed in the general direction of the Schloss Shonbrunn, a massive yellow palace owned by the Habsburg royal family. We walked around the “backyard” which reminded me of Central park more than anything. It was humungous with fountains and statues and gardens and even a zoo. We climbed a hill which overlooked the city, magnificent.
Inside, we toured the palace’s grand and ornate rooms. The palace was the essence of luxury. Rooms were dedicated to the most unremarkable things such as the Breakfast room. Most of the rooms served little practicality. They seemed to be there just to be beautiful and take up space in an impossibly large home. An interesting thing was the lack of hallways in such a place. The rooms just went from one to another. Also the heating system was well designed with large porcelain heaters built into the walls to prevent soot from getting everywhere. Charcoal could be added to the heaters through passage ways in the walls.
After exhausting the palace, we headed for the Naschmarkt for lunch. We rode the U (which you don’t really have to pay for) just a couple stops. The funny thing about this market was the lack of variety. Stall after stall would be selling the exact same kebab doners, olives, cheese stuffed peppers, falafel, and candied nuts. Full from falafel and hummus and Matt from a kebab doner, we continued to walk the streets of Vienna.
Underground, we came across the “Opera Bathroom”, a bathroom which attracted passersby’s by playing, you guessed it, opera music. Matt couldn’t resist his curiosity, nor his body functions and paid to go inside. He recorded his experience but was disappointed to find music wasn’t actually being played inside, only outside. This is when we discovered the most tragic event of the trip. Matt’s water bottle emptied itself inside his backpack and soaked nearly everything. Books were damp and his video camera screen got damaged. Miraculously, a few days later the water spots disappeared.
The opera bathroom reminded me of the travel guide I had read on the train (thank you Matt Morris). The book said there were frequent opera performances in the city and standing room only tickets could be purchased for just a few Euros. I asked Matt if he was interested and he was. Luckily, we were just outside of the Opera house and after several minutes of bumbling around, we found our way to the extremely long line. We clearly weren’t the only cheapos looking to watch Don Giovanni that night. We had to wait in line a couple hours before the performance began. Then the torture ensued. I was practically crying in the back of the place and it wasn’t because the show was tugging at my heart strings. Don Giovanni is at least one and a half times longer than any live performance I have ever seen, sitting or standing. The pain in my legs was unbearable and surrounding spectators were suffering as well. Throughout the show, people trickled out, leaving only the iron legged viewers. I’d be boastful if I told you I was one of iron legged viewers. We finished the opera but by the end I was trying to squat in the very limited space we were allotted. I couldn’t fully squat so I’d squat on one leg at a time, just to relieve the opposite leg. The experience was truly awful but the opera was great.
The next morning we caught the train to Budapest. I wish it had been that simple but after getting thoroughly lost; we made it to the station 5 minutes after the train was scheduled to leave. Karma was on our side that day as the train was running late as well.
No comments:
Post a Comment