2022/09/02 City Review: Vienna – the Vintage City, Part 1
I have a couple city reviews backed up, so hopefully I’ll work through my backlog now I’ve graduated and am a lazy NEET.
Journey
Back in June, my girlfriend and I went to Vienna for four days. Having only planned and booked the trip a mere week and a half prior to our departing, the flights and accommodation we found were surprisingly cheap; but it did mean an early 4:30 AM train journey from Nottingham to Gatwick. We had already made our way through security and passport control when I discovered something I really wished I hadn’t: the name on my ticket was abbreviated, not matching my passport. Operating on three hours sleep, and being inexperienced with flying, I was shitting myself. We tried phoning the airline, Wizz, but they wouldn’t accept calls, unless you wanted to pay two quid a minute. The help desk at Gatwick was bare; the same people we saw standing when we entered the terminal were still standing there as we headed for the gate. What a ridiculous system, where you can’t even ask for help! Wizz’s website claims you can change small errors for free, but the feature appears to have been deleted since it certainly was nowhere to be seen when I looked (and yet the flotsam of good press remains). The flight was quite delayed, but we spent the time chatting to a man also heading to Vienna, which certainly helped to calm my nerves. At long last the gate was announced, and we walked down; there, I asked the lady at the desk whether it would be a problem, and the kind Mediterranean lady shooed me away saying it’ll be fine, with that reassuring lack of concern or bother which only someone from the Mediterranean can show. My fears had been merely a mirage.
After a near-narcoleptic nap on the plane, wherein it felt no time had passed from take off to touch down, we had finally arrived in Vienna. And blimey was the sun hot. Austria is further south than Britain by some margin, with Vienna sitting on a latitudinal line with much of central France; but when imagining Austria, one doesn’t usually think it to be hot. Perhaps it’s the association with the Alps and skiing flurrying our vision. Either way, there was little time for dilly dallying – we needed to check in at the hotel and drop off our bags. Following my infamously poor sense of direction, we repeatedly got lost on the complex network of trains, buses and trams, until we eventually dragged ourselves to the hotel. Exhausted, we arrived at our surprisingly affordable studio-style hotel room; outside of the city centre, accommodation in Vienna is unexpectedly good value for money.
Day One
The time was around 7PM, and it was time to hit the streets of Vienna. Despite not being in the city centre – outside of the main enclosing ring road – the architecture was very much uniform. Wherever you are there are four story tall apartment blocks watching over you, each with enough slight stylistic changes to be interesting to the eye, but not so many changes that the view becomes a confused and intimidating London-like mess. Vienna maintains a kind of warmth in its architecture because it’s pretty. It’s not that each individual residential building is a work of genius in its own right, but rather that there’s a sense of synergy, of cogency, of thought which structures its design. Walking around London – a city I know and will compare to Vienna throughout – there is very little sense of form; instead, London has a kind of Conway’s Game of Life-style evolutionary hodgepodge look. From the banks of the Thames you can see the classical St. Pauls, concrete car-parks like the National Theatre, and that agonising stake through London’s heart, the Shard. London is a a city without logos; whilst for Vienna this is not the case. These architectural differences are an echo of the thoughts and cultures which designed them – the Austrian empire plays tall, whilst the British empire plays wide – but we’ll touch on these differences later.
We were hungry after our day of travelling, only pecking at snacks here and there over the journey, so we asked Google Maps, an ally without whom navigating Vienna would be a herculean task, to lead us to what it called an Austrian restaurant. Arriving there we could tell it was a local pub. It’s not that we felt unwelcomed at all, just that we didn’t belong there. Nevertheless, after we walked through the door and sat down, a lady who spoke scant English gave us a menu, and we replied with our far scanter German. In the end we got her recommendation, the platter for two. The platter possessed an unholy quantity of food: two schnitzel, two pork chops and two pieces of liver; all on a bed of rice and chips. Herby butter blocks were strewn across the dish also, soaking into the meat and carbs below. What a beautiful introduction to Austria. After the tenseness of the flight and the getting lost on the way, sitting down to this massive platter of local Austrian food with a hearty pint of Kaiser beer (draught, 7/10) was a well-needed welcoming gesture from Austria. After paying with the aid of Google Translate, and heading back to the hotel, we played three games of billiards (1W, 2L), and crashed into bed exhausted.
Day Two
But alas! A day had passed, and not a single sight on our lengthy bucket list had been seen! Day two began with me forcibly dragging my girlfriend out of bed for an early start; as much of Vienna had to be seen in the two and a half days remaining there. Leaving the house, we passed a Greggs-style bakery, where we went for breakfast. There, they sold a lot of bready things, and also salty things, like these soft Viennese pretzels and pretzel sticks. I can’t say the food was all too pleasant in truth, and would’ve rather picked a good meal at Greggs any day. Nevertheless, we acquired sustenance for the long day ahead.
Our first location to visit was the Imperial Treasury. There, they had the wealth of treasures which once blessed Vienna as the cultural centre of Europe. Included, were the orb, sceptre, and crown of the HRE – the orb, sceptre, and crown which once ruled central Europe. The crown was of particular splendour, with fine detailed embossings adorning its gold sides. At first after the first few rooms, I worried the museum wasn’t very big and there wasn’t too much to see – but after turning each corner, my worries were further alleviated as we were greeted with yet more rooms filled with exhibits and doors to traverse. Because the museum was comprised of smaller rooms rather than great halls, the exhibits could be properly curated and placed in their various sections. Many of the sections were populated with tabards embroidered with noble crests, stubby little poles, which I presume noblemen and royalty held, and bright sparkling jewellery. From the halls of worldly political power, we progressed to the halls of heavenly power; religious icons, busts, and then relics. Relics like part of the real Lance of Longinus – finally after having written about it for so long – and a portion of the true cross. There was even a real unicorn horn. And then we moved on to the affects of Charlemagne, although the crown with which he became emperor, severing Europe in two, was on tour and not present. Nevertheless, the bible on which he swore – a beautifully bible decorated in gold – was there. Charlemagne is such a distant character of history, it feels, that he’s faded into the firmament of mythology; much like a Caeser or an Alexander, he’s a kind of pillar of light shining through an era of darkness – a name and a legacy too powerful to comprehend. But, to my knowledge, the heroes of antiquity named above have no affects through which we can connect to them, unlike for Charlemagne. It almost feels as if Charlemagne should be too ancient for there to be such exhibits.
After leaving the dim-lighted treasury, we entered the marble-amplified, yellow Austrian sun. A small stall selling sausages in the town centre sold us some incredibly rich and fatty sausages with a neighbouring piece of rye to mop the grease. From the sliced sausages, grease bled into the paper plate, and with each bite the roof of my mouth was layered with a thin patina of fat. Nonetheless, it was rather tasty. They also sold cans of beer to be drank in public, so understandably I couldn’t stop myself from trying the much advertised Gosser beer (can, 7/10). Every coaster, every sign, and every pub veranda had the ‘Gosser’ brand adorned, so it was merely a matter of time before I gave it a try. Walking around a small park in the centre of Vienna looking at the flowers with a beer in my hand felt a little strange, but Mr Google reassured me that public drinking was the done thing in Austria.
We proceeded to wander shop-laden streets, until we found an artisan gelataria and chocolatier into which I was dragged by my girlfriend. There, I had a scoop of ice-cream bobbing in espresso, whilst my girlfriend had two ice-creams, becoming guilty friends with the server. Notably, we overheard an American couple behind us ask a most American question. They asked if they could have the gelato as a milkshake, and when denied, asked if they had a blender with which they could quickly make one! Whenever I have the opportunity to meet Americans, they happen to fit an angle of their stereotype.
Vienna being the imperial heartland has what any axis mundi of culture should have: a lot of museums. Collected in museums are the collected culture and wisdom of the past; and those who hold the keys to the past can open the doors of the future. Whether it be the Romans pilfering the relics of Greek civilisation on early imperial invasions of the peninsula, or rich British aristocrats buying up the riches of ancient Egypt, museums are where the strong display their mastery. On our travels down the many pretty streets of Vienna, we stumbled across the Globe Museum – a museum dedicated to the history of globes. Famous globes, some up to two metres in diameter, were displayed in what felt like a smaller under-advertised museum. The museum was a simple older style of museums, from an era when museums weren’t trying to ‘make you think’ nor ‘have a message’ but rather just show you a grand collection of antique items. On the same ticket was the Esperanto museum, which was very much the ‘we don’t have much to display, so here are some wiki text boxes to read’-style of museum. Although, it was rather interesting. The small exhibition detailed the political ramifications of Esperanto, beyond the simple early conlang angle. Esperanto was a pan-European movement aiming to unify Europe through language as a kind of preparation for a greater unification, born and grown in the era of nationalism’s zenith. Despite popularity amongst internationalist groups like communists and socialists, the fledgling language was harshly persecuted by later nationalists such as Hitler and Franco. After the collapse of nationalism with the fallout of the Second World War, the seeds sewn in European soil by these earlier movements like Esperanto sprouted, and, fertilised by nationalism’s ashes, became the European Union, and other such modern internationalist movements.
Our next stop was the Imperial Crypt where the many emperors of Austria are mummified in sarcophagi. The mood was grave – absolute silence was requested – and walking through the chilly underground past ornate tombs with preserved people within was sombre. The most magnificent of the graves was the grand grave of the mother of modern Austria: Maria Theresa. I spent a while admiring the masonry of her tomb, when I felt a very strange presence coming from the tomb for a moment. Feeling a little unnerved from the experience, I continued, over to the austere tomb Franz-Josef, the mourned final father of Austria.
Before I continue, it’s worth going into Franz-Josef and modern Austria. It’s hard to move far in central Austria without being greeted by a statue of the former emperor. The loss of their last great monarch due to the First World War lingers as a kind of trauma over Austria; it’s as if Queen Victoria was the last British monarch, and was deposed due to losing the war – it would be unbearably painful for the proud British soul. There is a deep sense in Austria of what I can only really describe as ‘vintage’. The buildings have an old look to them, with few to none of the modern monstrosities warting Vienna; Corinthian columns and imperial grandeur are hard to avoid in Vienna, but the grandeur is that of the past. The Austrians know that the emperor has been absent for a century, but his imperial seal is firmly stamped all over the city. London too has the beauty of the gothic and classical projecting our historic power to the world, but we too have the unfortunate buildings which project modern power in Canary Wharf, like the Shard and the Walkie-Talkie. And in that sense, it doesn’t feel like London is gripping to the past, but is rather growing healthily and living in the present. Vienna on the other hand has no modern power to project: the power is only historic and that of the empire. The slight evening feel of Vienna is that of the quiet, sleepy evening after a day industrious in the hot summer sun. The empire’s time in the sun has ended. And Franz-Josef is the icon through whom that earlier nostalgic warmth is felt.
After the crypts, then, we proceeded to one of the major museums, the Imperial Apartments. The apartments were part of a greater triumvirate of museums, starting with the Imperial Silverware Collection, the Sisi museum, and then ending on the Apartments of Hofburg palace where the emperor lived. Beginning with the silverware, I enjoyed seeing room upon room of like-looking sets of silverware. Some rooms were older and richer, decorated with wooden interiors, where the displayed silver looked more at home; whilst other rooms were cleaner and more sterile, exhibiting the silver in glass, creating a kind of blinding mirror effect under the bright lights. My girlfriend, however, was uninterested in the silver sea, and hurried me along a little.
What she despised far more was the Sisi museum. Sisi was the reluctant wife of Franz-Josef who has taken on a kind of popular reverence for the Austrians. A modern equivalent, I realised the other day, is Lady Diana, a faerie princess of the people who died before her time. In Austria, Sisi is much beloved, and you can’t walk too far without seeing a Sisi this or Sisi that for sale in a souvenir shop – or any shop for that matter. My girlfriend had a quite gut reaction against Sisi though, and when she explained her case, I mostly agreed. The museum, unlike the others we saw in Austria, was an ‘experience’ museum, one where the lights are dimmed and there are walls of text to read. Many of these quotes came from Sisi’s poetry and letters which were.. chuuni? Somewhat infantile? Much of the quotes bemoaned her awful predicament of having responsibilities and being cooped up in court life. But at the same time, in contradistinction to her almost Prussian-ly austere husband, she revelled in its luxury. She had tailored the most exquisite dresses and used the most expensive of cosmetics. Her long knee-length hair was washed in eggs on the daily, as part of a morning routine which took over an hour. Looking at some of the dresses briefly – for I had to go fast since my girlfriend had already power-walked through – the waist-line was terrifyingly thin. Sisi essentially starved herself and made herself up to become a kind of fairytale princess who never grows old. Maybe its that very image of the eternal empress which resonates so sonorous in the heart of the Austrians who are without an emperor.
The best part of the museum was saved for last. The Imperial Apartments were furnished as if the last emperor Franz-Josef had just headed out, and we were going around for a quick jaunt. The decor was grand, but not over-the-top; I had almost expected a kind of maximalist high-rococo extravagance from the Habsburgs, but the rooms were more subdued, coloured solely with matte white, shiny gold, and red velvet. The velvet was especially pretty with its contrasting texture and gently patterned surface. Unfortunately, however, the small alley through which you could walk was clogged with tour groups stopping in each room, leaving no gap to overtake. It was awkward to get past, and rather claustrophobic given the density of people in each room.
Our last stop for the day was the National Library. The library was the most beautiful interior to a building I had ever seen. Lush with classical grandeur, Renaissance-style art, and maximalist detail on any small space you look. It was truly breath-taking: a vision of Elysium. The sheer beauty made me tear up, in truth. My words can’t do justice to the beauty of the library, so I implore you to either go or find some more pictures online.
By the end of the day we were rather shattered after having taken in the many sites of Vienna. We found ourselves another Viennese pub where this time I got a plate of schnitzel and a pint of a delicious Schwechater Zwickl (draught, 9/10). The portions in Vienna are generous and surprisingly reasonably priced. We returned to the hotel, played our now habitual three games of billiards (2W, 1L), and slept soundly.
Day Two
But alas! A day had passed, and not a single sight on our lengthy bucket list had been seen! Day two began with me forcibly dragging my girlfriend out of bed for an early start; as much of Vienna had to be seen in the two and a half days remaining there. Leaving the house, we passed a Greggs-style bakery, where we went for breakfast. There, they sold a lot of bready things, and also salty things, like these soft Viennese pretzels and pretzel sticks. I can’t say the food was all too pleasant in truth, and would’ve rather picked a good meal at Greggs any day. Nevertheless, we acquired sustenance for the long day ahead.
Our first location to visit was the Imperial Treasury. There, they had the wealth of treasures which once blessed Vienna as the cultural centre of Europe. Included, were the orb, sceptre, and crown of the HRE – the orb, sceptre, and crown which once ruled central Europe. The crown was of particular splendour, with fine detailed embossings adorning its gold sides. At first after the first few rooms, I worried the museum wasn’t very big and there wasn’t too much to see – but after turning each corner, my worries were further alleviated as we were greeted with yet more rooms filled with exhibits and doors to traverse. Because the museum was comprised of smaller rooms rather than great halls, the exhibits could be properly curated and placed in their various sections. Many of the sections were populated with tabards embroidered with noble crests, stubby little poles, which I presume noblemen and royalty held, and bright sparkling jewellery. From the halls of worldly political power, we progressed to the halls of heavenly power; religious icons, busts, and then relics. Relics like part of the real Lance of Longinus – finally after having written about it for so long – and a portion of the true cross. There was even a real unicorn horn. And then we moved on to the affects of Charlemagne, although the crown with which he became emperor, severing Europe in two, was on tour and not present. Nevertheless, the bible on which he swore – a beautifully bible decorated in gold – was there. Charlemagne is such a distant character of history, it feels, that he’s faded into the firmament of mythology; much like a Caeser or an Alexander, he’s a kind of pillar of light shining through an era of darkness – a name and a legacy too powerful to comprehend. But, to my knowledge, the heroes of antiquity named above have no affects through which we can connect to them, unlike for Charlemagne. It almost feels as if Charlemagne should be too ancient for there to be such exhibits.
After leaving the dim-lighted treasury, we entered the marble-amplified, yellow Austrian sun. A small stall selling sausages in the town centre sold us some incredibly rich and fatty sausages with a neighbouring piece of rye to mop the grease. From the sliced sausages, grease bled into the paper plate, and with each bite the roof of my mouth was layered with a thin patina of fat. Nonetheless, it was rather tasty. They also sold cans of beer to be drank in public, so understandably I couldn’t stop myself from trying the much advertised Gosser beer (can, 7/10). Every coaster, every sign, and every pub veranda had the ‘Gosser’ brand adorned, so it was merely a matter of time before I gave it a try. Walking around a small park in the centre of Vienna looking at the flowers with a beer in my hand felt a little strange, but Mr Google reassured me that public drinking was the done thing in Austria.
We proceeded to wander shop-laden streets, until we found an artisan gelataria and chocolatier into which I was dragged by my girlfriend. There, I had a scoop of ice-cream bobbing in espresso, whilst my girlfriend had two ice-creams, becoming guilty friends with the server. Notably, we overheard an American couple behind us ask a most American question. They asked if they could have the gelato as a milkshake, and when denied, asked if they had a blender with which they could quickly make one! Whenever I have the opportunity to meet Americans, they happen to fit an angle of their stereotype.
Vienna being the imperial heartland has what any axis mundi of culture should have: a lot of museums. Collected in museums are the collected culture and wisdom of the past; and those who hold the keys to the past can open the doors of the future. Whether it be the Romans pilfering the relics of Greek civilisation on early imperial invasions of the peninsula, or rich British aristocrats buying up the riches of ancient Egypt, museums are where the strong display their mastery. On our travels down the many pretty streets of Vienna, we stumbled across the Globe Museum – a museum dedicated to the history of globes. Famous globes, some up to two metres in diameter, were displayed in what felt like a smaller under-advertised museum. The museum was a simple older style of museums, from an era when museums weren’t trying to ‘make you think’ nor ‘have a message’ but rather just show you a grand collection of antique items. On the same ticket was the Esperanto museum, which was very much the ‘we don’t have much to display, so here are some wiki text boxes to read’-style of museum. Although, it was rather interesting. The small exhibition detailed the political ramifications of Esperanto, beyond the simple early conlang angle. Esperanto was a pan-European movement aiming to unify Europe through language as a kind of preparation for a greater unification, born and grown in the era of nationalism’s zenith. Despite popularity amongst internationalist groups like communists and socialists, the fledgling language was harshly persecuted by later nationalists such as Hitler and Franco. After the collapse of nationalism with the fallout of the Second World War, the seeds sewn in European soil by these earlier movements like Esperanto sprouted, and, fertilised by nationalism’s ashes, became the European Union, and other such modern internationalist movements.
Our next stop was the Imperial Crypt where the many emperors of Austria are mummified in sarcophagi. The mood was grave – absolute silence was requested – and walking through the chilly underground past ornate tombs with preserved people within was sombre. The most magnificent of the graves was the grand grave of the mother of modern Austria: Maria Theresa. I spent a while admiring the masonry of her tomb, when I felt a very strange presence coming from the tomb for a moment. Feeling a little unnerved from the experience, I continued, over to the austere tomb Franz-Josef, the mourned final father of Austria.
Before I continue, it’s worth going into Franz-Josef and modern Austria. It’s hard to move far in central Austria without being greeted by a statue of the former emperor. The loss of their last great monarch due to the First World War lingers as a kind of trauma over Austria; it’s as if Queen Victoria was the last British monarch, and was deposed due to losing the war – it would be unbearably painful for the proud British soul. There is a deep sense in Austria of what I can only really describe as ‘vintage’. The buildings have an old look to them, with few to none of the modern monstrosities warting Vienna; Corinthian columns and imperial grandeur are hard to avoid in Vienna, but the grandeur is that of the past. The Austrians know that the emperor has been absent for a century, but his imperial seal is firmly stamped all over the city. London too has the beauty of the gothic and classical projecting our historic power to the world, but we too have the unfortunate buildings which project modern power in Canary Wharf, like the Shard and the Walkie-Talkie. And in that sense, it doesn’t feel like London is gripping to the past, but is rather growing healthily and living in the present. Vienna on the other hand has no modern power to project: the power is only historic and that of the empire. The slight evening feel of Vienna is that of the quiet, sleepy evening after a day industrious in the hot summer sun. The empire’s time in the sun has ended. And Franz-Josef is the icon through whom that earlier nostalgic warmth is felt.
After the crypts, then, we proceeded to one of the major museums, the Imperial Apartments. The apartments were part of a greater triumvirate of museums, starting with the Imperial Silverware Collection, the Sisi museum, and then ending on the Apartments of Hofburg palace where the emperor lived. Beginning with the silverware, I enjoyed seeing room upon room of like-looking sets of silverware. Some rooms were older and richer, decorated with wooden interiors, where the displayed silver looked more at home; whilst other rooms were cleaner and more sterile, exhibiting the silver in glass, creating a kind of blinding mirror effect under the bright lights. My girlfriend, however, was uninterested in the silver sea, and hurried me along a little.
What she despised far more was the Sisi museum. Sisi was the reluctant wife of Franz-Josef who has taken on a kind of popular reverence for the Austrians. A modern equivalent, I realised the other day, is Lady Diana, a faerie princess of the people who died before her time. In Austria, Sisi is much beloved, and you can’t walk too far without seeing a Sisi this or Sisi that for sale in a souvenir shop – or any shop for that matter. My girlfriend had a quite gut reaction against Sisi though, and when she explained her case, I mostly agreed. The museum, unlike the others we saw in Austria, was an ‘experience’ museum, one where the lights are dimmed and there are walls of text to read. Many of these quotes came from Sisi’s poetry and letters which were.. chuuni? Somewhat infantile? Much of the quotes bemoaned her awful predicament of having responsibilities and being cooped up in court life. But at the same time, in contradistinction to her almost Prussian-ly austere husband, she revelled in its luxury. She had tailored the most exquisite dresses and used the most expensive of cosmetics. Her long knee-length hair was washed in eggs on the daily, as part of a morning routine which took over an hour. Looking at some of the dresses briefly – for I had to go fast since my girlfriend had already power-walked through – the waist-line was terrifyingly thin. Sisi essentially starved herself and made herself up to become a kind of fairytale princess who never grows old. Maybe its that very image of the eternal empress which resonates so sonorous in the heart of the Austrians who are without an emperor.
The best part of the museum was saved for last. The Imperial Apartments were furnished as if the last emperor Franz-Josef had just headed out, and we were going around for a quick jaunt. The decor was grand, but not over-the-top; I had almost expected a kind of maximalist high-rococo extravagance from the Habsburgs, but the rooms were more subdued, coloured solely with matte white, shiny gold, and red velvet. The velvet was especially pretty with its contrasting texture and gently patterned surface. Unfortunately, however, the small alley through which you could walk was clogged with tour groups stopping in each room, leaving no gap to overtake. It was awkward to get past, and rather claustrophobic given the density of people in each room.
Our last stop for the day was the National Library. The library was the most beautiful interior to a building I had ever seen. Lush with classical grandeur, Renaissance-style art, and maximalist detail on any small space you look. It was truly breath-taking: a vision of Elysium. The sheer beauty made me tear up, in truth. My words can’t do justice to the beauty of the library, so I implore you to either go or find some more pictures online.
By the end of the day we were rather shattered after having taken in the many sites of Vienna. We found ourselves another Viennese pub where this time I got a plate of schnitzel and a pint of a delicious Schwechater Zwickl (draught, 9/10). The portions in Vienna are generous and surprisingly reasonably priced. We returned to the hotel, played our now habitual three games of billiards (2W, 1L), and slept soundly.