"How can you dislike Paris?" You will ask. Have you ever been to Vienna?
Paris is billed as beautiful and parts of it are. It is billed as having fantastic restaurants and it does. Some of them even welcome non-Parisians with less than a snooty attitude. Paris has the architecture one sees in movies… in spots but those spots are all over-run with tourists. Paris is everything that it is purported to be, yet it fails to grab my imagination. It fails to make me love it. It holds me off, ever aloof. In short, it suffers greatly from being over-hyped, over-sold, and over-loved. I say over-loved because those who do, somehow, find it within themselves to love Paris, sell it as the greatest, most beautiful city in Europe. For me, it isn't. It isn't even close.
Vienna, on the other hand, is beautiful and gracious throughout. It lacks the areas which, in Paris, look like a war zone, assuming that one is brave enough to enter those zones. I visited an office of the company I worked for in Paris once, and was told to be out by no later than 6 PM. The only other place I have had to leave before dark was in Lagos, Nigeria. Vienna may not have as many Michelin starred restaurants as Paris but it does not lack for excellent food and no one will treat you as an oaf for having the 'misfortune' to be something other than a born and bred inhabitant of the city. As for the architecture, Vienna was the seat of an imperial dynasty second (or first, depending on the year) only to France and it had its peak around the same time. Vienna looks the way Paris should or, perhaps a more fair assessment would be, as Paris appears in all of the movies and all of the travel blogs so lovingly written about it.
Vienna, imperial seat of the Habsburg Dynasty, looks the part and acts the part. It is a true Grand Dame or, put another way, Vienna has grown old graciously and Paris still acts and dresses like a young woman in her first bloom. Have you ever seen a middle-aged or old woman who still dresses like a 20 or 30 year old? I always find the look off-putting, not to speak of depressing.
There are a million reasons why I love Vienna but I don't want this to become unnecessarily long so I will limit myself to mentioning only a few. First, I must name Stefansdom, the principal church in the city. The roof of this edifice is made of colored tiles that make a lovely geometric pattern. The view of Stefansdom straight on is lovely but what I enjoy even more is the reflection of the church in the all-glass hotel across the square. Because of this building's curves, the spire of the church looks like an abstract piece of art.
Along with Stefansdom, I love the Votivkirche, a frilly concoction in the best French style. As for Michaelskirche, which one must stumble upon, crammed as it is between two other buildings behind the Hofburg, the altar piece makes my heart sing with its dramatic simplicity.
Second, the Belvedere, a palace just outside of the old city, which houses art from throughout Austria's history, including my favorite, The Kiss, by Klimt. This edifice, beautiful in its own right, gives one a glimpse into Austria's former glory. Despite its small size compared to Schönbrunn, I prefer it, though its grounds do pale in comparison to that great summer palace of the Habsburgs. The Belvedere is made up of the Upper Belvedere, the main palace and the building housing the paintings, and the Lower Belvedere, a smaller palace that houses temporary displays and other artworks. In between the two are gardens and fountains and the streets along both sides are lined with houses in the best French style. I enjoy the grounds but it is the art collection that keeps bringing me back.
Third, the city center itself consists of grandiose buildings, palaces, churches, hotels, and coffee shops, which brings me to number four, Viennese coffee. One should not indulge in it if counting calories but, for a splurge, not even Italian or French coffee can match it for decadence and, if I can enjoy it with one of Austria's rightfully famous pastries, I consider that life has few treats that can compare. The advantages of a long imperial dynasty is that the cooks and pastry chefs have had years of imperial patronage in which to perfect their cakes, tortes, cookies, tarts, etc., ad infinitum.
Fifth, as I am on the subject of food, let me say that the French have nothing on the Austrians for caloric rich foods. Wienerschnitzel means "Schnitzel from Vienna". This inconsequential looking item is a veal cutlet, breaded and fried in clarified butter. Simple it may appear but the taste would convert the most adamant vegan. It is traditionally served with Austrian Potato Salad, which is always served warm and which has a vinegar base, rather than mayonnaise. I have never particularly liked potato salad, with the exception of a recipe I found for Potato Gorgonzola Champagne Salad (cheese makes everything better), and, even were I to love it, I would be unable to eat much of it because I am allergic to eggs. Austrian Potato Salad, on the other hand… One can buy some of the cities best food at the Naschmarkt, which, along with operating somewhat like a farmer's market, has a great many little cafes and restaurants scattered throughout. It has the added advantage of being across the street from a great wine shop, Wein & Co. that offers tastings and sells my favorite Eau de Vie brand, Reisetbauer. He also makes whiskey and a very good, juniper forward gin.
There are countless other things I love about Vienna but, to prevent this reading like a list, I will describe three days in this city. The first was on my first trip to Vienna with a friend. We stayed near The Secession, a perfectly square building with a gold ball made of flowers or leaves on top. It was built by a group of artists who 'seceded' from the main school of art at the time. Our first day's walk took us past the greenhouses of the former emperor. We sat in the park in the shade of the Imperial Butterfly House, contemplating a coffee. Ultimately, we opted against it. The day was quite young but there were a thousand things to see so we walked past the museums and into the Hofburg, the royal city residence of the Habsburgs. The building itself is lovely but what we found even more fascinating were the fountains behind it, which are sculptural beauties to rival those of Rome and the Vatican, though, unlike the Trevi Fountain, one can actually take a photo without 15 other tourists in the frame. Just past these fountains we found the entrance to Michaelskirche (German website, check Wikipedia for information in English) and, struck by curiosity, we entered. I consider this pure serendipity. Churches in Europe, with the exception of those bombed in Germany - rebuilt for the most part but forever without much of the previous artwork - or the austerely non-decorated Protestant churches of the North, which eschew decoration of any sort as iconography, feature gorgeous paintings, stained glass, frescos, sculptures, and the like (though not all at once). Michaelskirche is different. I couldn't tell you if it possessed paintings in the side niches or stained glass, for my eyes were drawn inexorably forward and upward to the completely colorless, grey stone sculpture of the ascension, shot through with golden rays, portraying God's glory. I marveled at the impact of something so simple. We sat in the church in contemplation and prayer for some time before moving on.
Our next stop also carried an impact, though of a different kind. Generally, one approaches Stefansdom from the side and is, therefore, immediately struck by the riot of color that is the roof. Then one turns around to walk to the edge of the square in order to get as much of the edifice as possible into the photo and there, in the curving glass facade of a hotel, one sees a Picasso. Nothing is where it should be. The roof has become an impossibly tall steeple, as though a 3D photo was reduced to 1D. I couldn't decide which view I liked more, so I photographed both. Incidentally, and sadly not discovered that day, one can get one of the best Käsekrainer in the city just off of the Stefansdomplatz. A Käsekrainer, for the uninitiated, is the cure for all ills, including severe burnout and depression, at least during those euphoric moments of consumption. This may look like a normal, every day sausage but those of us who have tasted one know its secrets. It is a smoked sausage, similar to a real Kielbasa (not the mass produced variety that abound in US supermarkets), but what makes it a culinary experience par excellence is the cheese that pockmarks the interior, the fact that it is grilled until it is slightly burnt, and that it is then stuffed into the center of a bun (literally, they drill out the center of the bun and shove it inside so that it is surrounded on all sides by bread). The only problem with the Käsekrainer, besides the fact that it is not sold throughout the world, is its tendency to burn the mouth with hot cheese or to bedeck one's clothing with the same if it squirts out on that first bite.
But where was I?
From Stefansdom we wandered the city, passing a rather disturbing sculpture in memory of the victims of the Great Plague. A pile of skulls is not my idea of tasteful artwork but then, death by plague is not, I understand, a pretty sight either. We ended up in the former ghetto (Jewish quarter pre-WWII for those not familiar with the term). I read once that the synagogue in this little quarter of the city was the only one (or one of the only ones) not destroyed during the Holocaust. They could not burn it or blow it up because it is essentially part of a long row of houses. The day was Saturday so we could not enter to visit the museum. Instead we stood in contemplation of a sculpture I found even more chilling than the mountain of skulls. The sculpture is of books with their spines facing inwards and their pages facing out. In these sculptural books are written the names of every victim of the Holocaust. Around the base of the sculpture are written the names of the camps where the majority of them met their horrible, tragic fate. I think what made this sculpture so chilling though were the roses, left by the survivors or by family members, on the name of the camp where the person or family died. Many of the roses were accompanied by cards with the names of those killed. The sculpture itself is innocuous stone. Books are hardly chilling or threatening. But those roses suddenly bring 6 million lives snuffed out into horrifying reality. 6 million is merely a number unless and until one sees a name attached, a person, a life, hopes, and dreams.
We both needed something uplifting after that so we made our way to the Votivkirche. This church belongs in France. The majority of churches in Northern Europe contain a lot of stone and very little glass. The Votivkirche is full of stained glass. The floor is a patchwork of colors, dancing and winking.
We rested our feet after this and ended the day with a real Italian pizza, a bottle of Lambrusco and a stop at the Sacher Hotel for a slice of Torte to go. Incidentally, Michael finds Sacher Torte a bit too sweet but then, Austrian desserts are, in general, a bit sweeter than German but still rather less than the average American dessert. For myself, I like Sacher Torte - a chocolate sponge cake with apricot puree/jam between the layers and covered by a chocolate ganache - but I like many of the other desserts even better, which has perhaps a great deal to do with the fact that I have never liked cake that much. If you want to try this cake or any of Austria's other confections but you don't have a ton of time, stop by Demel's, which is just behind the Hofburg (and incidentally has a location in New York City), and pick up something to go. If you want to try the pastries but can't get to Vienna, it seems that you can order something via the location in New York.
The next day we did a great deal more wandering around, none of which is important, except that we made our way out to Das Hundertwasserhaus. This series of apartment buildings is not as easily accessible as the other sites of Vienna but it is worth the effort of getting there, especially for architecture buffs.
The other days that stick out in my mind are from my most recent trip, one I took for work. The Marketing and Sales Manager drove us up the hills towards the Kierlinger Forest. We passed vineyards on the way up - Vienna is considered the wine capital of Austria and a number of the vineyards and wineries fall inside the city limits. Once we reached the top, we enjoyed the view of all of Vienna laid out below us. We stopped at one of the local taverns on the way down for dinner. The food is simple but brilliantly executed and one can order off of the menu or enjoy the buffet. More importantly though, one can enjoy one of Austria's excellent wine varieties. Our favorite, especially on a warm summer day, is Grüner Veltliner. The next day, and our last day there, he took us to the Prater, a park that once belonged to an Emperor and which was made accessible to the public by the same. It rivals Central Park in size. It was our last night in Vienna and he took us up in the original, giant Ferris Wheel. Rather than riding in a chair, one rides in a cab made of wood. The cabs look like miniature houses or garden sheds, all painted red with white trim. Their outer walls are lined with windows and there is a seat in the center. One can have dinner inside, if one wishes, enjoying a romantic meal as the city passes by beneath one's feet. The thing that made this day stick out though were the views - the Daube on one side and the city center on the other with the spires of the Stefansdom and the Votivkirche, as well as many others, jutting up over the red roofs of the city.
After our ride, we went to an old Bierstube with a display of wine corks with funny, carved wooden heads on top. The food… I ordered Wienerschnitzel with Austrian Potato Salad, naturally. It was our last night in Vienna and, Michael and I knew that we would be moving to California soon, so I knew that this was my last chance for a while to enjoy that greatest of all caloric bombs in the city in which it originated.
If you are considering a trip to Europe soon, I hope that this entry has made you consider skipping Paris and trying out what I consider an even more beautiful imperial city, Vienna.