Vienna - Day 1
We learned later, from our guide, that the big, beautiful Gothic church has three names: one in reference to Emperor Franz Joseph, who had it built in 1910; one in reference to St. Francis of Assisi, his patron saint, and one in reference to Mexico - “the Mexican church” - in remembrance of the fact that Mexico, of all the countries in the world, was the only one to officially condemn the Anschluss, Hitler's invasion of Austria in 1938. Later we saw the balcony from which Hitler announced the annexation of Austria.
The guide also told us that that wavy building across the river is the tallest building in Austria which, she said, is not so big a deal, at least on the world stage. The “modernist apartment building” is actually an office building, with another behind it, and they are the headquarters of the UN International Atomic Energy Agency.
Overcast; the pre-dawn light is pearl gray. Breezy and warm; I'm sitting next to the plexiglass barrier on the roof deck, out of the wind.
Today we go in to Vienna by bus, take a bus tour for about an hour, then get off the bus for a walking tour. The walking tours have almost all been about the same length – about one and a half hours, and anywhere between a mile and a half to three miles long. This has been every day except one, and I think I'm doing OK with that. I can't keep it up forever, but tomorrow is Schoenberg Palace, the next day is Budapest, and we're off to Prague!
Two big crows, black with dark gray on their backs and bellies, saunter down the deck pecking at crumbs. After a while they talk to each other a little, but Merlin can't come up with a name. Probably a Grumbling Tiddlywink, right Merlin? OK they're talking more now – and there are more of them – and Merlin says they're Hooded Crows and/or Carrion Crows. I prefer the Tiddlywinks.
And on to Vienna. As promised, a bus tour around town and then a walking tour, then free time.
Vienna for a day is really a tease; it's like looking at a great painting through a paper towel tube. The beauty and drama is all around you all the time – and that's just the architecture. It's truly monumental, the legacy of an impossibly rich and powerful empire – the Austro-Hungarian one – and the Hapsburg family at the center of it all, for centuries. Their armies weren't particularly successful, but their families had lots of children, and they married them off to the right kings and princes (remember Marie Antoinette?), thus maintaining their wealth and status without the burden of debilitating wars all the time.
Anyway, the buildings the Hapsburgs left are unbelievable. The Empire lasted until the end of WWI (the assassination of Hapsburg Crown Prince Ferdinand in June of 1914 set off that war). In addition, may people became insanely wealthy by operating in Vienna, the heart of Hapsburg power., and they built “houses” - many of them blocks square – to show of their wealth.
Remember Richard the Lionheart, whose ransom paid for the first defensive wall around Austria? Well, the wall was strengthened and widened (at its widest a tunnel under it could fit 17 carriages in a row) and was instrumental in the very famous Siege of Vienna in the 17th century, after which the Ottoman Turks had to retreat to Constantinople empty-handed.
Anyway, in the 1850s the Viennese, aware that walls around cities were no longer relevant in the age of modern warfare, tore it down and created the Ringstrasse, a wide boulevard, and built some of the most impressive public and private buildings you've ever seen on that boulevard. We drove by many (most?) of them today.
In addition, Vienna is graced with the Hapsburgs' Winter Palace (Schoenbrunn Palace, which we'll see tomorrow, was the Summer Palace), which has 18 “wings” (individual enormous buildings) containing over 2,600 rooms in all.
As noted, I feel like I got only a brief glimpse of all this in the three hours or so we spent in the city.
St. Stephen's is, according to our guide (who was excellent, but spoke really fast and packed a lot into the time we had), in a perpetual state of cleaning: when they get around the whole outside, it's time to start again. Which is nice, but it means, I suppose, that no one will ever see the real, complete, un-scaffolded cathedral ever again.
Our walking tour ended in front of St. Stephen's and we had an hour free time; our assembly point was the same spot in front of St. Stephen's. So we went in.
St. Stevens was built, in the form we see today, in the fourteenth century. So - not Baroque. Not even close.
Interestingly enough, the main stained glass windows in the cathedral (below right) seemed like they were purposely simplistic – just ranks and ranks of rectangles in a small range of dull colors. That's it – no decoration or Biblical storytelling to be found.
Abbey had her copy of The Message with her, so we did our daily (or, on this trip at least, not-so-daily) devotions. Then a family walked by with a one-year-old in a stroller; the kid was fussing so, obviously, Abbey had to intervene. She waved to the little girl, and made some silly faces and sounds, and the parent stopped, grinning, and let it continue. Then Abbey started a pretty involved (for a one-year-old) game of 'peek-a-boo' and in short order had the kid playing too. A wonderful little moment in the day.
As you probably know, Abbey and I went on a singing tour of Europe in the summer of 1980, which we will tell you about at length at the drop of a hat. This story is about the three hours we had to explore Vienna. We did one-night-stands, so the normal day was get up, get onto the bus, drive to the next place, rehearse, perform. If there was time left, we could explore. So we had three hours to explore Vienna, and in St. Stephen's Abbey met a group from our chorus who were going up in the tower. I didn't want to, so we split up. I got back to the bus and suddenly realized that Abbey may not know how to get back to the bus, and may not stay with the group she was with. I had thought she would stay with the group and return with them; she though I would be at the bottom of the elevator when she came down. I had remembered how to get back to the bus; she hadn't. I ran back to St. Stephen's (back in my running days) in a panic and just saw her in the crowd in front of the cathedral, disappearing off in the wrong direction. One minute later, and she would have been adrift in Vienna, not knowing the name of our hotel or even the name of the concert hall. It would have been a major disaster, and it was averted by a hair's breadth.
So we both, I think, had little twinges of that trauma reappear today, and neither of us was willing to become a carefree wanderer, no matter how enchanting the city is.
I came back here to the journal this evening because I didn't think I had described Vienna – or the slice of Vienna we saw – adequately; maybe I can't. There is a uniformity in the architecture throughout – it is elegant, regal, and larger-than-life – but in style, each building is very different from the next. It surrounds you with another age. It's different from Van Haussmann's Paris, which is much more uniform, just as elegant and pleasing, but not nearly as monumental. The muscular power of the Hapsburgs and the Austro-Hungarian Empire is turned into beauty and elegance without losing the power.
Anyway, it was a great artistic experience today, even though we never got to Viennese coffee, chocolate, tortes, sausages, or the Vienna Woods.
So – we're back on the ship, and we had a great lunch out on the front deck – grilled salmon, grilled right there on the deck, and available only to those few of us who were eating on the deck. Dessert was opera cake, which would be very dangerous to have around the house in any great quantity. Look it up! We've had a relaxing afternoon, during which we both did some of the mundane chores that tend to get put aside on a trip like this, and then I wrote, and ran lines, and I think Abbey is taking a nap.
Just a note to say that the food has continued to be extraordinary – whatever it is, there's something remarkable about it. We will remember this food.
Those who have had the kindness to read these journals in the past may remember my extensive rant, in the Japan journal, about cruise-ship music. I refer you to it and will not repeat it. On this much smaller ship, we have one musician, a pianist, who is technically brilliant and can probably entertain music lovers all night, but instead plays melodramatic old-person favorites over and over. OK – end of rant.
We have, of course, heard of the effects of WWII in every town, and the difficult memories are significant. However, on the second half of the trip, we've also heard of Napoleon's sweep through here in 1805; his troops laid waste to a lot of the countryside and the infrastructure. For instance, his troops bunked in the Baroque Melk Abbey, and lit fires, inside, on the parquet floor. That kind of stuff. You remember that, even 200+ years later.
It's warm enough out on the roof deck that we can sit here, in the breeze, me writing, Abbey painting, and watch the sun set. A carrion crow arrives to check for scraps on his way home. Tomorrow, Schonbrunn Palace. Being the summer place, it only has 1,441 rooms.
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| Church of St. Francis of Assisi Franz Joseph Church The Mexican Church |
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