Paris (Vienna to Paris, France)

Look out, dear reader, it's a transit day, so photos are there to provide you with relief. It's the day where something will go wrong, in abject defiance of my meticulous planning. Today was no different. Sigh. Thankfully there is only one more transit day after this one. It's huge though, all the way back to Sydney. I'm getting ahead of myself.

We set an alarm although it wasn't required. We lounged in bed reading the news online from Australia and checking email until it was time for breakfast. Our wonderful host, Gerhard, had checked out the various modes of travel to the airport. The train was the cheapest but for an extra €10 we could pre-order a taxi. Door to door - no bag drag. Of course we chose the latter. I'll save the wheelie bag versus cobblestone event for the Olympic city.

Somewhere in Hofburg.

The taxi was scheduled for 10am and arrived a few minutes early. The company app alerted me to his approach. We wrangled the bags into the lift and down the few stairs out onto the street. Our driver was there within the minute. The suitcases were placed into the boot of a black Mercedes that I probably couldn't afford to drive at home and we settled into the leather interior and chatted with our driver. He was originally from Turkey but had been in Austria for 27 years.

The conversation soon dried up and we relaxed into the drive. The traffic was light so we would make the airport in plenty of time to enjoy the Air Austria lounge. And then, you knew there would be an "and then", dear reader, didn't you? We entered the freeway and all was fine for a few minutes, and then the traffic increased significantly and gradually we slowed to a crawl.

The Mozart statue in Burggarten.

Our driver was somewhat perturbed by this occurrence. There was no way of telling what the problem was and he assured us he had chosen the route because his app indicated light traffic. As annoying at it was, we were never going to be inconvenienced by arriving later than anticipated. I was concerned for our driver who was on a fixed fee fare and was losing work.

The Sydney style traffic crawled on and more traffic joined us from the on ramps, slowing things further. As you would expect in a situation like this, we were tantalisingly close to the airport exit. Less than 4 km in fact.

While there were roadworks, they were not the problem. As we exited the freeway, we could see they had chosen that particular spot to commence narrowing lane access from three lanes to one. Another km or even 500m would have made the world of difference to those heading to the airport. Once again, organisational issues.

Burggarten again.

The approach to the terminal was smooth. The doyens of Sydney airport could learn a thing or two. Taxi parked, he helped with our bags. I over tipped because he had lost at least one fare in the traffic chaos. And he seemed like a nice person.

Inside an unfamiliar terminal, we found the Air Austria desk to be told Business check in (I won an upgrade bid) was elsewhere and we were waved away with vague directions. We stumbled across their service desk where one of the attendants finally acknowledged our presence and pointed us down the adjacent corridor. 

The Opera House stage and our guide.

Business check in. Deserted. Luxury. Bags checked, tickets in hand, it was time for security. Fortunately there was also a Business line here. In no time at all, we were on the other side, breathing normally and thinking of the lounge.

We set off toward our gate. My belief, (mistaken as it turned out), was that the lounge is usually in proximity to the departure gate. As it was in just about every other international airport I had visited. Off we wandered towards to the F gates, pausing to purchase a T-shirt on the way. Several times, Jayne questioned where we going. I held firm to my belief that the lounge would be nearby. Wrong. We turned and retraced our steps.

A marble relief on the wall in the Opera House.

Of course Jayne, being female, had to ask for directions. She approached someone at the Air Austria service desk who directed her, allegedly - I didn't hear what he said, back down the corridor towards the security area and up the escalator on the right.

Still smarting from my directional failure, who was I to question? Out we go and Jayne points to the first escalator. There. Um, it doesn't say 'Lounge', it just says 'Gates'. You can adlib the next interchange, dear reader, but be nice. As we are about to enter the escalator, a woman is running down towards us ... teenager style at the shopping centre. Except she keeps saying, "Pardon, pardon, pardon."

The front of the Opera House from across the road above the trams.

When we reach the top, I understand why. No man's land. To go forward takes us into the exit gates for flights. There is no going back unless we too run down the escalator. I'm up for it. One look at Jayne says that is not the way forward.

Anyway, we commenced roaming around on the wrong side of the barrier, hoping to find someone who can help. That didn't happen. After several minutes of mild, sweat inducing panic, we were spat back out at security. Fun times.

Yeah, nah. It was just there. I have no idea.

We lined up and arrived at the point of choice. I chose to stand behind the woman who looked like she was ready to go. But no. She was a decoy and proceeded to remove items from her bag, one by one, and place them in the tray. Assiduously blocking access to those behind her. As her partner moved down the line, Jayne walked to the space where he had been and procured a tray for our belongings as well as a dirty look from the woman who was still fluffing around.

Our gear was in the trays and we sailed through having just completed this process minutes earlier. Through the metal detector, we stood waiting for our trays to pass through x-ray. The guy in front had his bag detoured. No drama because his partner was still dicking around putting things into the tray.

The Belvedere pond. Sorry on a good day it's a fountain.

It was with much dismay and disbelief that we watched Jayne's backpack get detoured into the 'naughty bag' lane. Our other belongings gathered, we waited at the end of the desk. Nothing happens quickly here and the bag checkers worked in pairs. I grew a beard waiting for our turn.

The guy in front was having his bag searched as his partner finally made it through the metal detector. At least she's not a robot. He seemed pissed that he couldn't take his 'savings size' bottles of shampoo and conditioner in his carry on luggage. The very large, sharp looking scissors that came out of his bag next surprised me. Maybe he was intending to cut hair on his next flight. Who would have thought those things would raise an alarm?

A 3D ceiling.

While he was still remonstrating with the security people, someone finally attended to Jayne's backpack. The same backpack that had successfully passed through an x-ray machine further down the line minutes ago. He looks in the pack. Returns to the x-ray machine. Looks in the pack again and removes a cylindrical silver object. "What is this?" he asks. Hmmm, what to say? How stupid are you? Have you never seen one of these before?

"It's a solar powered torch," Jayne deadpans. What did you expect, dear reader? "I will show my colleague." he replies. Seconds later he returns with the torch and we are on our way to the lounge. Again. The lounge for F gates was at G. Of course. Makes perfect sense. This is Austria.

Inside the Museumquartier.

The lounge was not quite what we are used to but at least we were on the right side of the barrier with about a 15 minute walk to our departure gate. At the appointed time, we headed down to find the priority boarding for Business Class was non-existent and passing through the boarding gate was a free for all. Once we made it into the corridor, dejá vu... we came to a screaming halt where we soon realised we were not walking directly onto the plane; we were waiting for a bus to take us to the plane somewhere out on the tarmac. No one could go any further till the transport arrived. Really? How third world.

Eventually a bus arrived and we all piled on to then queue up again to get onto the plane. While there were both a fore and aft entry available, everyone, for whatever reason, decided to go up the front stairs. So once again we waited in a queue, not going anywhere. Once we did get on board, of course there was no locker room near our seats so our bags had to be stowed at the back of the section while we were seated right at the front. Not feeling the love for Austrian Airlines at this point ... or Austrian organisation in general. I haven't read about the collapse of the Hapsburg Empire but I can speculate, based on recent experience.

The entrance to Hofburg.

Once the flight commenced, however, things improved immeasurably with good cabin service, decent food (yes really), and an uneventful journey to Charles De Gaulle, where our bags appeared promptly on the carousel and we then worked out the shuttle service between terminals to go to where we needed to be to catch the RER train into Paris.

And here we are at the title song. There are so many, many songs about Paris. Today though we have chosen Paris by Tay Tay. I'm no Swiftee, I'm not even sure how to write Tay-Tay, but is this 2022 song a nod to her current partner? Some people might care, I'm  not one of them. Enjoy the music, her lyrics are good.

Carved pews.

The service at this point was very good as well, with staff designated to assist passengers with correct ticket purchases. So much friendlier than our previous arrivals in France where we were barely acknowledged.

The lady who assisted us, inquired where we wanted to go. "Luxembourg s'il vous plaît," was the reply.  "Just checking, do you mean Luxembourg the station, or Luxembourg, the country? I have had someone think they were going to the country to find out they had just bought a ticket to do a circuit around the Paris Metro."

Ukrainian artwork from the Lower Belvedere.

Our destination confirmed, we headed down to the platform and only had to wait a couple of minutes before the Line B train arrived and off we went. While all this was pleasantly smooth, we refused to be lulled into a false sense of security, as the last time we caught the train into Paris, we inadvertently found ourselves caught up in train strike which resulted in us and our baggage being jammed like sardines into a shockingly overcrowded train. The trip had been extremely stressful since we were not certain if we would be able to push our way off at the desired stop. While that unpleasant experience ended successfully, we were not keen to repeat it over a decade later.

Happily, no strike was on the cards today and, while the train was crowded, we knew we would be able to get off at Luxembourg for the 20 minute bag drag to our final home away from home in the Latin Quarter.

I shan't bore you with the devious routes planned by our GPS or the usual stories of bags on cobblestones. Both occurred. Down narrow streets when we could have traversed a boulevard, past a film shoot and finally to our door. The codes worked, keys secured we then lugged the bags up to the second floor to battle with the old French locks. They seriously love security in this country.

The door to the street has a push button code. The internal door has an electronic swipe. The door to the apartment has two separate locks, both have two levels of locking mechanism. If there's a fire, I will die.

Once I was comfortable with the locks, we went exploring our neighbourhood, our first stay on the Left Bank. We are surrounded by boulangeries and patisseries. Rue Mouffetard, a well known restaurant strip is within 5 minute's walk. There are also numerous supermarkets and a marché that appears across the road on Friday and Sunday. 

Supplies purchased, we settled in for the night. Almost. We were sitting and discussing what we would do with our time in Paris when I became aware of voices. It was not possible for them to be from next door because that was a solid stone outer wall. Upstairs? Yes, as it eventuated. Stupid boys. Probably gaming. It lasted until midnight. One of them in particular was extremely enthusiastic and his yelling and jumping around ensured we knew when he'd scored a win. I wanted to push him down our narrow spiral staircase and break his inconsiderate neck.

Jayne sent me to bed.

À demain.

Danke Schön (Vienna, Austria, part 2)

The day dawned, apparently. I was vaguely aware of the rain pattering on the window sills. The sound was familiar and I knew I recognised it but the fug of sleep and double glazed windows kept me from complete comprehension. Finally, it dawned on me, brighter than the day. Rain. No rush to get out of bed.

Our last full day in Vienna commenced with the mundane. Domestic chores such as ironing and a minor reorganisation of bags in preparation for tomorrow's departure. The rain was due to clear early so we thought we'd wait it out. As has become practice, our last day is generally not too strenuous. With the weather and the drop in temperature, we were never straying far from home base.

Mid-morning the rain looked to have cleared so out we went. No umbrella, although I was wearing my yellow jacket. Twenty metres into the walk, the drizzle recommenced. Just heavy enough to be annoying and make us consider returning to the apartment for a brolly. 

I was in a reflective mood.

We pushed on. First stop, St Stephen's Platz. Yes, dear reader, we have been here previously, but the weather today ensured reduced crowds. Photography would be easier but the photos would suffer from a lack of blue sky. As we wandered the main areas around the platz, coffee was on the agenda. Higher on the agenda was Pandora.

Another spire visible from everywhere.

Strangely, Jayne had remembered exactly where the store is situated. Inside we were greeted warmly by the staff and the warm air conditioning. They made us feel very welcome, unlike the Pandora staff in Prague. The Vienna staff also made a sale, unlike the Prague staff. They recommended the Central Café as the pinnacle of Viennese destinations for coffee and cake.

Where were the crowds?

The Central Café was also on the exhaustive list of things to do in Vienna from Aaron and Adam. I also knew we had little chance of getting in. The queue was lengthy by my standards and it was very cold in the wind. No go at the Central. I noted earlier that Café Sacher was equally in demand. We settled for Aïda, which provided good coffee and brownie ( no not that sort) and a shelter from the elements. Unless you are smoker, then you have to stay outside, indulge your habit and freeze. As many opted to do.

We had booked a tour of the Opera House and so decided to make our way there, thinking we would be able to burn some time in the foyer. After circumnavigating the building to locate the entrance, we discovered there was zero access until 15 minutes before the scheduled start of the tour.

It was time to bite the bullet and try that quintessential of Viennese cuisine, the würstel. One the most highly referred stands was across the street from the opera house. We had two recommendations of würstel to try, bosna and another one that was chopped and drowned in 'ketchup'. I saw the latter, whatever it was called and it was a straight up no. So we split a bosna.

The würstel stand.

The verdict? It was the worst. Come on, you knew I'd do it. A sausage on a roll with raw onion, parsley, curry powder and more mustard than was necessary. And there was a queue to purchase this substandard fare. I'd rather go hungry.

Back to the growing queue at the Opera House doors. Eventually we made it inside to a rather grand foyer area which was the various tours' gathering point, all of which had been segregated into language groups: French (for the massive school group), German, Spanish, Dutch, Italian and lastly English. There were no instructions and no one really appeared to be in charge. There were, however, people darting back and forth beyond the ropes that corralled us.

Part of the foyer. They love ceiling art.

Eventually the groups began to move off in order with a guide. The English speakers were last. We longingly watched the other groups depart, one by one. Occasionally they re-emerged on a stairwell or landing and criss-crossed each other. Our group was divided in two before we moved anywhere which meant there were 7 separate groups being escorted around the building. The sort of precision that was required to ensure groups didn't merge or crash each other's areas was akin to the skills of a high diver completing a reverse four and half somersault in pike position. Today's result? A belly flop.

Heading up from the foyer.

The tour itself was interesting, if a little rushed. Our enjoyment was diminished by the crowding of other groups as their commentary collided with ours, making it difficult to hear.  I know it is a money making venture and they are trying to limit the impact on the daily functioning of the opera house, but some organisational planning and limits on the number of groups would go a long way to improving the experience for everyone. We are intending to visit the Palais Garnier in Paris so there will a viable comparison in a few days' time.

A chandelier from underneath.

Out into the cold we walked home via a very different Burggarten. It was the antithesis of the crowded, people-filled space we'd seen on a  sunny afternoon, not long ago. Today it was virtually empty, there were no picnicers in sight.

The boxes.

That is pretty much our last full day in Vienna. We dropped into the supermarket to get some supplies for tomorrow's train trip and went home to pack. Paris is our next destination and for the first time we have abandoned train travel and are flying. No bag drag, we have pre-booked a taxi.

Which brings us to the song and title. The song is spelt, Danke Schoen and was made famous by Wayne Newton. It was given a second life in the movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Funny, I always thought it was sung by a woman.

Until next time.

Palace (Vienna, Austria, part 1)

Ah, Vienna. A return visit, dear reader, because we did not have sufficient time here in 2022. Being the second time around also meant not having to see some of the more obvious tourist spots because we've already ticked that box.

This post will cover two days because the pictures will do the talking for me. Unless you would like a history lesson? No? Ok. There are a few interesting anecdotes to share along the way. 

We spent almost the entire day in the Hofburg precinct. It is about a 25 minute walk from our flat as our host insisted on calling it. It was Sunday and there was definitely something happening in the adjacent Volksgarten. We'll check that out on the way home.

Looks like a good spot to make a speech.

The Hofburg is a massive sprawling complex that contains the Sisi Museum, monuments, statues and a church among other things. It is naturally home to the Hofburg Palace. Sadly we were unable to go inside. Hitler delivered his speech from the balcony of the palace following the Anschluss in 1938. He always did have an eye for the grand moment. A pity he was a delusional narcissist. Comparisons anyone?

We spent the next few hours in the Imperial Treasury looking at gowns, crowns, jewels, church pieces, riding crops, swords and so, so much more. Sadly photography was limited, not so much by the darkened rooms but by glass cases surrounding the artefacts. Taking a photo that wasn't destroyed by reflections became the challenge for the day.

A series of royal riding crops, y'know.

A fancy hat.

Something for the smoking room.

The royal crib.

A very large emerald.

The spear of destiny. Constantine!

The next stop was the Prunksthall. In English, a state hall and in this case, the National Library. I haven't been this gobsmacked since walking into an overly gilded and decorated church. Just wow. Antique books from floor to domed ceiling. Well almost to the ceiling. Timber shelves. Timber ladders. Frescos everywhere you turned. It was just astonishing. Curiously, it fails as a library, you can't borrow the books.

This

is

a

library. Books!

From one extravagant building to another: Augustinerkirche. No further comment required.

They love a chandelier.

It was time to commence the walk home through the Burggarten and then to the Volksgarten and Maria Theresa Platz, that vast space in between two museums. The Volksgarten seemed to be enjoying some sort of music festival. Not for people for our advanced years. We kept moving.

Sunshine = Burggarten.

As you can imagine, dear reader, all this walking and standing and reading plaques and listening to audio guides takes its toll. As we approached the Museumsquartier, we decided it was time for a refreshing beer. Aside from the numerous museums, the interior courtyard houses several cafés. Just the place for a beer, some people watching and research about the museums that surround us.

The entrance to the Museumsquartier.

The wind whipped up as we were enjoying our beers and people watching. The viewing spectacle was enhanced by hats being chased across the courtyard. The nearer the former hat wearer moved to the hat, the further the wind moved it away. It was as if the wind gusts were timed by some hidden comedian. As the man at the next table picked up his beer, the wind gusted again. What was to be his first sip through the copious froth became a salvage mission as he wiped the foam from his face, shoulder and sleeve.

Later we watched an older couple (like really old, older than us) who were bicycling their way around the sites, arrive in the middle of the courtyard. They peddled to a stop, dismounted, had an animated discussion with finger pointing and then the male indicated to his better half that he was walking off and left her with both bikes. Her response was to calmly survey the area, remove her helmet and light up a smoke. Eventually her absconding partner returned (not sure from where), helmet reclaimed, smoke finished and off they peddled out of sight. Happy holidays!

After reviewing the museum options, we chose to continue our walk home to wine and dine on the balcony, chasing the elusive clear shot of the woodpecker.

Yes. It happened. 

The Austrian winter announced its imminent return the next day, sneering at those who had become comfortable with the two days of warmth and sunshine. The cloud was back, accompanied by a cold breeze. Regardless, we charted our course for Belvedere.

We accidently discovered the Naschmarkt.

The Belvedere Palace or Palaces are quite grand. The upper sits on top of the hill and the lower palace is, you guessed it, down the slope. In between is a garden and a huge water feature into which stupid people throw money.

It's a Monet. Looks good from a distance.

We commenced on high. Once I had rescued the tickets from my phone. When I booked, I was only permitted to purchase 1 ticket. Prior to the 'checkout', I could continue shopping and did so, to discover that I couldn't buy a second ticket for the same entry time as the previous one. Who designs these sites?

The Belvedere Upper from the Lower.

Anyway, we turned up at the door together. Tickets scanned. In we go. It was very crowded. There are two floors of art works, some contemporary, some more classical. Some you were allowed to photograph, some you were not. Curiously, it was some of the more recent works that did not allow photography. Tbh they were pretty shit anyway and I didn't want to photograph them.

The first artwork I was permitted to photograph.

We worked our way across the top floor through each room and then moved to the first floor to repeat the process. It was here the more historic and famous works resided. A gallery of Klimt for instance and that famous painting of Napoleon on the rearing horse. We arrived in this room to find it packed and with little oxygen. The reason? A tour group from Asia. Every individual had to have their photo taken in front of Napoleon. And then have it retaken if they weren't happy with it.

Loved the title: Naked youth standing between two rocks.

If you can close up ... RBF

Napoleon. He was actually on a donkey, but ...

Klimt.

This group had literally commandeered the room and the artwork. Everyone else sidled in and worked around the group, attempting not to photobomb them. I do not understand the 'selfie' culture, of which this is a part. Anymore than how people could be so ignorant of those around them. Fortunately for my blood pressure, their tour leader called them away. Most followed dutifully. Some stayed for further photo ops that resulted in them sharing their frame with me and other people. Enough is enough.

I liked this guy's work. Egon Schiele.

As beautiful and expansive as these palaces are, nothing compares to Versailles. The gardens, which needed weeding and mowing, would be a lovely place to enjoy a summer's day, but they aren't that impressive. Schönbrun also was far more interesting and eye catching.

Down through the sculptured garden we trundled. The water feature had water, but wasn't fountaining.

From the top because the water is not flowing.

Belvedere lower also held art exhibitions, access to which was gained by traversing through some of the restored palace rooms. 

It needs more gold, or mirrors.

The horse stables contained an exhibition of religious iconography. Through particular periods of history, artists and goldsmiths were kept in work by the varying churches. 

The Orangerie contained artworks highlighting a pioneering woman, Broncia Koller-Pinell, who not only painted herself, but sponsored the careers of other fringe artists, even in the face of Nazi threats. There are no photos. I can't recall whether this was through regulation, disinterest or lighting.

An installation outside the café. Our reflections were there.

Thankfully the Lower Belvedere also contained a very nice café, which provided a well-earned rest and a decent coffee before we headed off to our next destination, KarlsKirche. 

A memorial fountain on the way to St Charles.

Named as the finest Baroque church in Vienna, and resting place of the famed, if controversial composer Bruckner, we were keen to see inside, until we saw the entry fees, €10 per person. Seriously? It's a church and I've seen a few in my time. I'm not sure if any were worth that much money. Unless entry came with eternal life or forgiveness. We were not the only ones to baulk at the cost as we witnessed others come to the entry and decide to walk away.

KarlsKirche from the front.

The rain commenced so it was time to suspend our sightseeing and head up the hill for home. Like most of the rain we have experienced in Europe, it has been light drizzle. At best it is just aggravation value. However, a long walk can ensure you are wet through. Fortunately this was not the case for us on the walk home.

No idea. Tried to photograph it in '22.

Dinner was at a traditional Viennese restaurant, Weinschenke, less than 10 minutes walk from our door. The rain recommenced as we entered the street, this time a little heavier. We were prepared with umbrella and yellow jacket.

The staff at the restaurant were delightful. Umbrella and jacket stowed we settled in for a gin and tonic while we perused the menu. A traditional Viennese restaurant calls for traditional Viennese food and wine. Schnitzel and Tafelspitz with a Grüner Veltliner.

If you at out one night in Vienna, you can probably go without food for three days. OMG the serves are huge. My schnitzel and potato salad (hey, it's thing here) were served on separate plates. Jayne's Tafelspitz was almost as big. I struggled to finish; but I did. 

The rain had disappeared for our walk home. In truth I would have preferred a longer walk to move some of that food.

And you've made it this far so you must want the song reference in the title. Palace by Sam Smith from 2017, not about physical palaces, but hey, it's a great song.

Until next time.