Above Ground and Counting: Vienna and Salzburg … Music to My Ears

Over the last few years, Anne and I have developed our own style of travel planing. To some extent , we have swapped roles. Somehow or another, I have morphed into an anal trip planning fanatic. Every detail is examined and reexamined … from what to see and where to go, to what to eat and what to pack and what to buy. What is different now for me is my need to "see it all". I find the thoughts of missing something important overwhelming. It is not about making choices and prioritizing our time. It is about missing something because I did not know it was there. That seems tragic to me. When the day had finally arrived, we were more than ready. In fact, the last two days before leaving for Austria had been spent completely revising the schedule to accommodate some last minute thoughts. We headed into the airport, as yet, unaware of what we forgot to pack … despite our overzealous preparations. It occurs to me that the need for security, unknown to younger travelers, might be behind all of this.

Anne does all the prep for electronics on our trips. The phone and cloud storage are mystical phenomenon to me still. We upgrade our phones for GPS access in foreign countries, data usage, and texting options. A separate storage bag is selected to store the myriad of cords, chargers and converters we will need on our trip to be technically ready. This year I had visions of texting daily with my grand niece, Barrett, but it did not work out. Oh well, would have been fun …looks like snail mail will be required. Postcards to the rescue … I would send them from Toronto, Vienna, Salzburg, Bratislava, and Munich.

Much to my surprise, the commuter plane to Toronto was able to lift itself off of the ground and into the air, a misconception fostered by the moaning and grinding noises of the engines as we raced along the runway. It had been a long time since I had seen a plane with an actual propeller. I still, however, cling to the thought that this plane is a loaner from the Weeble People Factory. Anne and I are seated in the rear and that alone is reason enough for the extreme nose-up trajectory upon which we have embarked … unless by chance we are actually gaining altitude. The guy seated in front of me … at the emergency exit … unrelentingly twirls a small batch of this hair. I hope that is not the last thing that I ever see. The small A/C vent beside me looks alarmingly like the muzzle of a Civil War Gatling gun, which makes me wonder if there are such things as genocide flights and that the real reason Anne and I are seated on this plane is because of a small, hidden chip embedded in our passports. Excepting the nervous guy on the emergency door, no one else seemed to care and the I wondered privately if the orange-brown landscape below me was foliage or the residue of an agent orange dusting enacted since the plane stewards made me turn off my cellphone. Nothing I can do … so I sit back and take a wait-and-worry attitude while watching the Campbell Bean can being passed among the passengers and knowing soon it would be my turn on the porta-potty.

Louis and Susan met us in Toronto and flew with us from there to Munich and then Vienna. Given that we were officially in Canada, we all enjoyed some poutine. Poutine does have the ability to clog all vessels instantaneously and kill you on the spot, but it is a Canadian must. Meanwhile, I discovered that I had left my snack bag on the last plane and was without my Skittles or Mars bars. What was there left to live for?

Let's face it …a long distance flight can be terrible experience. We, however, have a strategy. We were leading a charmed life … our seat strategy of booking two seats with an empty seat between (hoping no single would choose to sit between us) worked again. All the more room for us. Don’t think for a minute that meant we had sufficient room to be comfortable. Any way you look at it, you have to fold me up to fit me in an airplane seat. If it wasn’t for the delicious airplane food, I don’t know if I would survive.

I like flying Canadian Airlines. On our flight to Munich, I listened for a couple or hours to opera (Mozart of course). While I was bathing my synapses with Mozart, I had the sneakiest suspicion that my traveling companions were soaking up disco rejects and watching cheap sex movies and blood-letting extravaganzas. Would that they would only recognize the appropriate behaviors that I am modeling for them … from atop my pedestal of refinement … a vision to others of cultural and intellectual man at his best. The flight saw me finish my Louisa May Alcott biography and delight in the melodic voices of the operatic greats. I was there for my companions … my insight and wisdom at the ready … an intellectual dam at the bursting point. My head swelled with the with knowledge available for the asking. My breast swelled with the pride I so rightfully deserved. Clearly, I am destined to have a swell time. But, no one knocked at my door.

Our flight continued and we reached Munich without incident. There were about 400 people on the flight, so there were minor glitches. This time, it was a bloody nose, a possible heart attack, a broken toe, and a seizure … all of which made us a little late and almost caused us to miss our connection to Vienna. People can be so inconsiderate.

Somewhere there must be an owners' manual for us. Every machine or engine you get has one and as one well knows, to keep an engine running requires the right oil, fuel and additives and proper maintenance. How true this is for us, especially when we travel. We carry with us and endless supply of powders, salves, oils, lubricants, preventatives, bandages, bandaids, stool softeners, stool hardeners, skin treatments, shampoos, conditioners, tooth paste, dental rinse, corn pads, heat pads, eye drops, neck pillows and pills, pills, pills and extra back-up pills. We are ready for every contingency from a bad hair day to the bubonic plague from dry skin to overflowing ankles. The boy scouts would be proud of us … we are prepared. We lug with us at least one extra bag devoted to the care and maintenance of the human engine and we fill the zippered pockets with the "what if's" of our senior citizen paranoia. Sadly, we are self-fulfilling prophesies. Our human engines don't do hills so well anymore. We require more fuel, but get less mileage for the gallon. Our engines continually overheat and must be parked to cool down. We listen for every click, pop, whine, and groan anticipating the breakdown just around the corner and true to our imaginings, we limp through the majestic gardens of the Schonbrunn Palace, wrap our ankles while gazing at the ceiling of Stephansdomkirche, and fall asleep in the subway and the restaurant.

Like my dad before me, I am a walker. Those hills are a bit more challenging these days, but given flat ground, I do pretty well. Add to that, the notion that I might miss something and some might say I am fanatical. And, I walk fast … a combination of that need to see it all and my long legs. It is a problem for sure. It means that I spend most of the time way ahead of the rest of the group, or waiting. Needless to say, I equate waiting with missing something and quite often have popped over to the next corner to see something that caught my eye while the others catch up. They say I am having another "look … a squirrel moment". It's a good description I believe. Waiting certainly is difficult for me … the result being that I am either tyrannical or grumpy or a martyr. Without a doubt, I am more annoying than annoyed. It is a problem that I have created for myself There is a happy median there somewhere, but clearly I have not found it yet. In my mind, I liken it to leaping into a car to head out. We shift into first gear and let her rip … but the tires don't squeal … and the engine doesn't rev … and we never shift out of first gear. I think I need to see a mechanic!

Traveling is different for us now … we are senior citizens now … more purposeful … anticipation at its peak. We plan our trips ad nauseum. I actually enjoy the process and generally do most of the trip planning for us these days. The problem with a plan is that it is a reflection of the person making the plan. It reveals what I believe to be important, my priorities, and a strategy to make the most of our trip. It also is a reflection of what I believe the group is capable of doing, what they would want to do and what they should do. There are certain flaws in this process. My plan is based on my pace and predominantly my interests. When you make a travel plan for a group, there are certain givens. You seek information from the group as to what they want to do, but you never get as much as you wanted or their wants aren't really what you think they should have wanted. You rough out a schedule and ask for input. Generally, when you do a schedule for a group, no one really looks at it until it is time to go on the trip. Then, the input that you get is about what is wrong with the schedule, not what is right with it. Meanwhile, you are defensive about the schedule because you made it and love it (because it is exactly what you want). All of this should be of no great surprise to anyone who makes a schedule. The reality is that the schedule is just an idea and the real work is adjusting it to what the group needs and wants as you go. Schedules are like your dog. Nobody loves your dog like you do.

Here is a major flaw in my planning approach. I over-plan for the time we have. I have far more activities in the plan than we can possibly do and then have a list of extras, just in case. The flaw is that I then try to do everything that is on the plan and resting is not an option. My travel companions have developed a love of the daily pub stop to check out the local beverages. My suspicion is that this may be more about rest than beverage.

Everybody has their own style when they travel. Our arrival at our first hotel is a good example. It turned out that we walked a little further to our hotel from the trolley stop than we had anticipated. Later, we would find a a shorter route. Hence, our group was somewhat tired. I mention this only in that it might be a contributing factor. My style is to get to the hotel, throw the bags in the rooms, quickly check out the place, and hit the streets to start getting a feeling of just where you are. The style of my companions was quite the opposite. Their style is nesting. I am jumping out of my skin to get out there and see what the city had to offer (it was on my schedule) and as I looked around they were all unpacking their suitcases. Things were being hung on hangers so as not to wrinkle. Drawers were being cleaned for socks and underwear. Coats, that we would put on right away were being hung on the hangers at the door. The pharmacy was being set up in the bathroom. They were even changing clothes. Thinking back, I believe I heard the words "unwinding from the sleepless flight over". Sleepless night? Every time I looked around during the flight they were all comatose. I was sleepless because as we all know you can't stuff a copy of War and Peace into a business envelop or me into an airplane seat designed for Twiggy. Call it what you will, they were moving into their new home … they were NESTING. What next … eggs … and sitting around hatching?

Our first day in Vienna was spent getting transportation tickets, exchanging money, and getting to the hotel, but took a lot longer than we had anticipated. Later in the afternoon, we headed to the Prater, Vienna's amusement park, to attend the Wiener Wiesn Festival, a local folk festival.

Translated that means three large tents sponsored by local beer companies with um pah bands and the locals dressed in dirndl dresses and lederhosen ... standing on the tables they busied themselves clinking huge steins of beer and singing and dancing.

This is not a great place for a teetotaler, so I opted to check out the Prater while the others checked the festival. The festival ended at 6:00 PM … at least for us it did, because we went during the free afternoon sessions. I surmise that the real beer drinking was reserved for the night sessions.

Several years ago, when we all went to London, we rode the London Eye, a huge Ferris wheel overlooking the Thames and London. The London Eye was the slowest ride I had ever been on in my life, took forever to finish, and I thought (as I sat in the floor reading) that I would virtually die of boredom. My companions enjoyed it to no end and I still think it was because the ride was a safe haven from me dragging them down the street to see something else. A very tall rest stop!

Alas, Vienna had its own historic Ferris wheel overlooking the city … in the Prater. Against my better judgement, I had scheduled a ride on the Ferris wheel for our group. Even as I typed it into the schedule, I felt death creeping up my spine. After the festival, I took everyone to the Ferris wheel site. I look at it … my face brightened with hope … it wasn't moving! I looked again … a snail raced across my line of vision … molasses sped by … I had a vision of what eternity means. I was wrong. It was moving. I was wrong. The London Eye was not the slowest Ferris wheel in the world. This was. I didn't want to die … I couldn't do it! I loaded my beaming companions onto the ride and sat on a bench in the Prater for a year waiting for their return.

Louis, Susan and Anne oozed off of the Ferris wheel. Unbeknownst to them, I had a little surprise. Only a short walk away at Am Hof Square. It was a little harder to find that I had thought … it was a little further away than I realized. The walk gave us plenty of time to talk about exhaustion … to talk about being up all night on the plane … to talk about being hungry … to talk about being lost perhaps … to dampen spirits. The surprise was an art installation called "Yellow Fog" where at dusk the foundation of a building was bathed in an eerie yellow mist. I admit conditions were not perfect and it was a little anti-climactic. Even when I pointed it out to the others, they kept saying, "Where? What?"

Later that night, in the last moments before sleep overtook me, I realized that we were the installation … we were the yellow mist … we were the Yellow Fog creeping along the street!

Don't get me wrong … I am not totally the poster boy for a traveling Yellow Fog installation. Sometimes I see quite clearly. Like in Bratislava. Bratislava was to be a rest stop of sorts for us. It was an open schedule. We had a list of possible things to see, but nothing was set in stone. A leisure day. But, it was not to be. Instead, we reenacted the Bataan Death March … the Cherokee Trail of Tears. I was approached in the main square near the info center by a woman offering to give us a short tour around the Old Town section of Bratislava to which I said "No thanks". Minutes later, Anne came out of the info center trailed by the same woman saying that this tour guide had some time before her next tour and would be happy to show us around a bit before then … and it was Free. The implication was that the woman was associated with the info center, like some kind of tourist ambassador. I was pretty sure I knew how this would work and knew exactly which comment to make to cut through the veil being placed over our eyes. But I did not want to be the "asshole" in the group. Instead, we were off on a whirlwind tour of Old Town with a lady speaking accented English that we could barely understand, practically running for the next two hours. Yes, we saw Old Town. Yes, we learned a lot. Yes, it was technically free. My problem is that it was a lie and a scam. At the end, the lady stood before us, removed our veils and politely chatted until we understood that we were expected to tip her. This is her job. Yes, she did a good job. But why pretend? Why not tell me you will do this for $10 or $20 and I can agree to do it or not? Instead, I stand in front of you at the end feeling like a cheapskate if I don't handsomely tip you. It is like the restaurant that puts bread and olives on the table for you as if they are free and charge you when you eat them. I walked away as my companions reached for their wallets. I guess I am the "asshole" in the group after all.

The churches have always been the cornerstone of any trip we have ever taken to Europe. They never disappoint and can only be compared in terms of lesser or greater magnificence. The churches of Vienna, Salzburg and Bratislava were no exception. The grandest and clearly the cultural center of Vienna was Stephansdomkirche.

Interior of Stephansdomkirche

Splendor and grandiose, bordering on decadence prevail here and in the lesser churches as well.

Whether listening to the voice of a single priest, a choir, or an orchestra, it is almost impossible to describe how beautiful voices sound echoing about the huge domes and arched ceiling of these churches.

The dome of Peterskirche

The altars are incredibly ornate.

The alter at Michaelskirche

I never tire of checking out out the architecture of these artifices whether they were built in the 1400's, 1800's, or in modern times.

We were lucky on this trip to visit Stephansdomkirche on a day when the orchestra and choir were doing a final practice for a concert that night. They were performing "Requiem" by Giuseppe Verdi. We were able to sit in on about a half hour of their practice session and it was great. We checked out about 14 churches in all while on the trip, each with its own special highlights.

Augustinerkirche - The pyramid tomb of the niece of Maria Theresa

St. Martin's Cathedral in Bratislava

Beautiful cemetery at a small church near the cliffs of the fortress in Salzburg

Old cliff chapels

Karlskirche and the Thomas Moore sculpture in the fountain

Construction scaffolding inside Karlskirche for restoration of the dome

Alter at Maria am Gestude church

Another standard for our trips is to seek out the local farmers' markets and flea markets.

By seek out, I mean I try to find the local sausage or hot dog and do a bit of sampling.

This huge mound of chanterelles was incredible … haven't seen chanterelles like this since we were visiting friends in Sweden. We gathered our own there. The red hat is pretty cool as well. Makes me want to yodel!

Lou has a hat kinda like this one. But, I don't think Lou can make a sandwich piled high with this selection of delicious meats.

One of the things I like about markets are the great colors … like being in a contemporary art gallery.

How is this for a cheese knife? He looks like he might be planning to use it on me.

Rhinoceros horn is so hard to find these days. Wonder if ground antler would work just as well.

You have to wear a beret if you are going to run the cheese shop. It's the law.

Looks like this lady in the Austrian hat means business … and the hanging sausages looked wonderful.

The fruits looked great … there were several that we had never seen before.

Sauerkraut by the tub ...

I wasn't the only one looking for samples … Lou found the pig knuckles!

For years, Anne and I traveled during the February school breaks. Besides being cold, it also meant that we never saw a flower. I can assure you that bare, gray an brown gardens are not nearly as interesting as the green ones. Once we retired, we were able to travel at other times. What a joy to see leaves and green grass and flowers. We savored the gardens of London and Wales. The Keukenhof Gardens and immense fields of tulips in bloom in the Netherlands blew our minds. A huge emphasis on our Austria adventure was to explore the numerous palaces there. The formal gardens associated with those places would not disappoint … they we unbelievable and gorgeous.

In many ways, the Hofburg Palace Complex is the heart of Vienna. The palaces now house a variety of tourist and administrative activities and we spent the better portion of a whole day enjoying the complex. The buildings were immense and beautifully ornate. I never tired of looking at the incredible sculptures adorning the outsides of the buildings.

Outside the main entrance, an archaeological dig was being conducted to unearth ancient Romans ruins predating the construction of the Hofburg Complex.

We visited the Residential Apartments of the Hapsburg family and they were luxurious to say the least. Nearby were the stables and performance rink for the famous Lipizzaner stallions. We looked in the stables, but were not wiling to pay the price to see one of the performances. I know you are thinking it already … yes I can be a cheapskate!

We also took the time to visit the Sisi Museum also housed in one of the building. Unfortunately, it was crowed and unimpressive. My advice is to skip this one.

Definitely, one of my favorites was the National Library, The Prunksaal, also housed in one of the palace building. I could not believe what I was seeing. Hands down, the Prunksaal was one of the most exquisite interiors that I observed in all the the palaces and buildings we visit while we were in Austria.

Tell me that this doesn't make you want to check out a book or two!

We took a day trip to Bratislava, Slovakia and stopped by the Presidential Palace ( now used for administrative functions) and gardens there. The gardens colorful and well-kept. I had brought four of my hanging stones to Austria with me. I hung one of the stones in this garden.

There was an interesting selection of sculptures that were also installed around the gardens. Lucky for me, the fountain sculpture was currently dry … practically a formal invitation for a picture with the fountain nymphs.

In Salzburg, we toured the Mirabell Palace. When we arrived, we headed straight for the gardens and were not disappointed.

The trees were starting to turn and lined the walkways like palace guards.

A small side garden was ringed with a collection of concrete dwarf sculptures. Later in the day, we watched a group of about 20 pre-schoolers in yellow rain slickers racing about the garden to examine every sculpture … eyeball to eyeball.

Can you really go wrong with a pair of unicorns in your garden?

It was really difficult to decide which photos to choose to adequately represent the gardens. The contrast of colors and the smooth, slender lines of the nude made this one a must.

At Mirabell, the gardens are definitely the star. However, it is worth the effort to check out the Marble Stairway and Room.

Mirabell Palace … in a word … WONDERFUL!

We were still reeling from our Mirabell experience when headed out for our next adventure. On the outskirts of Salzburg along the Salzach River was the Hellbrun Palace and the Trick Fountains. I found a tour of the palace that included a cruise to the site and return from the palace on a London doubledecker bus. Who could resist? I have a confession to make. Those who know me well and have traveled with me know just how much I hate boat rides. Floating along the river watching the snails race by … trapped with no means of escape except to drown oneself. The Salzach cruise lived up to all of my expectations, but everyone else seemed to enjoy the experience. By the time we had unloaded and waked up the hill to the palace, the rain clouds had gathered and were biding their time to unleash fury upon us at the most inopportune time.

First on the agenda was a guided tour of the trick fountains. The fountains were a series of especially designed fountains and mechanical assemblages for the archbishop to squirm water on his guests when they least expected it. For the most part, our guide chose to demonstrate how the fountains worked without actually squirting on on us directly. For the most part …

The fountains were fascinating. That archbishop … what a jokester. I bet he was a riot at funerals. Meanwhile, what the guide was reluctant to do, our friends the gathering clouds were more than willing to implement. The skies opened above us and put the trick fountains to shame.

My favorite fountain was this one of two Mermen (??) wresting. It reminded me of the students when I was at BAMS. Children will be children.

We didn't spend a lot of time inside the palace, but it did have some interesting displays and room decors.

The grounds of the palace were somewhat formal yet simply decorated with a few colorful flower groupings planted amid the numerous water features and statues. Again, the architecture and grounds were the true stars and made the visit. All this, and a ride home on the upper level of the double-decker London bus in a driving rain.

We journeyed back to Vienna. On our list of things to do was the Schonbrunn Palace. The Schonbrunn, they say, is the Versailles of Austria. By far, it was the most magnificent of all the palaces we had seen thus far. One is immediately blown away by its size … both the palace and the grounds.

Little too much wine at the palace party. Perhaps it would be best to spend the night. No problem … The Schonbrunn Palace has about 1400 rooms. The vast courtyard at the entrance of the palace was just a taste of what was to come.

The gardens seemed to stretch on forever in every direction and were accentuated with flower gardens, pools, magnificent fountains, grand statues and hundreds of trees planted and groomed as if they were a simple hedge.

Trellis

Gate to side garden

Enormous fountain on rear grounds with huge gate/sculpture in background

The Schonbrunn Palace was like being in a fairy tale … one hated to have to wake up. For good measure, just in case you weren't impressed enough … throw in a maze and a zoo on the grounds to boot! I try not to lose sight of the fact, regardless of the overwhelming impact of the size of the grounds and gardens, that the multitude of sculptures composing the fountains pieces and other installations about the grounds were in and of themselves exquisite pieces of art. Look out France … you have a rival!

I thought to myself, this cannot be topped. Any other palace must pale in comparison. Pale? Yes. But, does that mean take a back seat? Hardly. For there was the Belvedere Palace. Two palaces separated by a huge expanse of formal gardens and fountains. Highlighting the museum in the upper palace, were the four atlas columns sculptures supporting the ceiling of the gallery. In the lower palace, the work of Klimt … including both The Kiss and Judith. Sit back and enjoy the view.

The gardens

Sculptures at the upper entrance

One of the atlas columns

Fountain sculpture

From Upper Palace at sunset

Rainbow at the palace

Our trip was in many ways like being transported back in time … back to the 1800's … back to the pomp and circumstance of another time. Kinda like being trapped in a library for eternity with nothing on the shelves to read but Jane Austen and Edith Wharton. There was, however, another side to Austria and I must confess, I am always intrigued by it. Graffiti. It speaks volumes about today's culture. Vienna, Salzburg and Bratislava provided some interesting examples.