Vienna

One of my biggest fears is running out of things to say in a conversation or in a relationship. However irrational, I am terrified in most conversations of awkward pauses and I have convinced myself that all of my connections with people will come to an end because I will run out of things to talk about. Despite wanting to meet new people, especially on a trip like this, I often feel myself hesitating before starting a conversation. I think to myself, “We have this entire train ride. If I start talking now, I’ll have to talk until we reach the station or we both go uncomfortably quiet after I’ve found out the entire background of the person and his family. What more can I say once I realize that his mother is a shoemaker in Palermo? Do I even remember the word shoe? Whatever happens could be potentially catastrophic. I shouldn’t start a conversation now. I’ll just wait until we’re closer to where we are going. Good idea. But the train makes me sleepy...”

I mean, literally, this is what happens. Not all the time, mind you. There are those times – especially when my conversation partner initiates – that I am happy to muddle along with a language I don’t know well or talk slowly in English with people who probably don’t understand half of what I’m saying. These conversations are triumphant and exhilarating because each time it’s like I’ve proven the impossible. Though I know this is the feeling I will ultimately have, I have hesitation every time.

I have met many interesting people already during those freak times that conversation does get started. So the only conclusion I continue to draw is that I have to force myself into uncomfortable situations in order to feel accomplished with people in new places.

Cities, however, are not the same. Cities I can love immediately. I can meet a city and after a few hours fantasize living there for years. I imagine my life in the city, bustling around with people I am afraid to talk to. It’s wonderful. I think I have a thing for cities because I love them all. Big ones, small ones, clean ones, confusing ones, crowded ones, rainy ones. After I spent time going around the U.S., I was asked which city I liked the most. Sheepishly, I had to admit that they all gave me something good.

Vienna is a city I loved immediately. From the day I arrived, I was enchanted. Coming from Italy there were things I noticed immediately. First off, it’s cleaner. From the train station to the city’s many churches and most points in between, the walls are clean and without garish graffiti. As a designer, I can be attracted to graffiti; in Italy, the graffiti is not attractive. Also, the roads and sidewalks are roomier. You can walk five-people wide without being on the street. It’s cleaner audibly as well, as many Viennese have cars but not many have motorini... the biggest source of noise pollution in Italy. Instead, next to the extra-large sidewalks are paved and sanctioned bike lanes. The pedestrian light system has icons for bikes and people showing just how much respect the greener-minded Austrians get.

Austrians, like any group of people north of Italy, seem more... anal retentive. I say this in the most affectionate way because I am probably more anal retentive than an small town of Italians. Austrians wait at stoplights for the green man to indicate they may cross (out of fear of the 7-euro charge they may incur if they misstep), and move about the city like they’re all part of a well-oiled machine. As soon as possible, I tried to fall in line.

But there isn’t a total sense of order. Like any city or culture, there are standards and expectations. The metro (a great system) treats its people like grownups: you buy and validate your ticket as needed. There are no turnstiles at every exit. Occasionally officers are posted to check tickets, and if you irresponsibly decide not to use honor, they charge you a fee of consequence. It’s that simple.

Simplicity is also part of the Viennese coffee house tradition. Vienna has a tradition of these houses that is said to be more than 300 years old, with the first location opening after the Turks were defeated in the mid-1600s. Shops full of coffee, tea and pastries (and liquors, wines and beers at night) are on every street, and you are invited to patronize as long as you’d like. Order a coffee, stay for a few hours to read the paper, talk about politics or (in my case) plan the rest of your time in the city with your guidebook and hot chocolate to assist. I sampled pastries at a handful of coffeeshops and wasn’t disappointed. I started with an apple strudel from the Diglas coffee house, tried a multi-layered chocolate torte at Eiles near the Parliament and had a crumbly treat near the Graben. Yum.

When I wasn’t opting for a pastry as lunch, I explored (mostly with Rishi’s help) eateries with traditional Austrian fare. The first night in the city we went to a brewery for wiener schnitzel and home-brewed beer. Yum again. At the end of another night I was treated to a hot dog – frankfurter with cheese snug in a crusty baguette. For a final lunch I had frankfurter, potatoes, sauerkraut and beer. I was kind of jealous of myself on that last day.

The food was sustenance that I need to traverse the city, which I did. Over and over. Outside. A lot.

I really had no choice. The weather was beautiful and the city center – i.e. where are the tourist stuff is – packs itself tightly and is marked well enough to navigate easily. I walked through the Museums Quatier, Maria Teresa Platz, down by the University and Parliament, over to see the Graben and Stephansdom, around the see Karlsplatz and over to see Belvedere. I went to the Jewish Quarters and where Mozart when he worked on Figaro. I saw Klimt’s kiss and a neat exhibit on Yves Klein at the MUMOK. I also explored the city’s Jugendstil architecture at Wagner’s apartments, the Succession building and at Karlsplatz. I love this design period with its angles, colors and lines, so it was great to see the architecture in person.

One night I went to wait for a standing seat (oxymoronic, I know) at the opera. I waited outside the opera house with my paper and guide book, waited inside to get a ticket, then rushed with everyone to get a spot. People were running in from outside, pushing and shoving, and I had no idea what was going on. I asked someone who seemed to be a veteran (he brought a collapsible chair with him for his post outside), and he recommended the balcony and recommended I hurry. So I did. I had to be guided by the calm ushers amidst the store, and my spot was acceptable. I tied a scarf to my area and wandered for a bit. The opera house is pretty majestic and I was glad I paid two euro (less than I pay for a hot chocolate) to see the show. I only wished that the show was better. It was a french opera with a pretty good female singer and no good actors. It was a modern opera that tried to hard with the acting. The German-speaking audience got translations on screens by their seats (and above our heads in the standing section). It was the first time in a long time that my English didn’t help me out in any way. It was actually kind of a nice feeling, though I may have enjoyed the opera at least a bit more if I had more of what was going on.

My last night, as I was wandering around the Graben before going to the train station, I heard a pianist, two classical guitarists, a quartet with a clarinet (it rhymes and it’s an instrument after my heart) and singers. Mostly students, all out enjoying the evening and practicing music that just makes the heart happy. I got on the Ubahn to head to the station with a smile. It’s how I like to leave cities. I think it’s inevitable I’ll get back to that city before too long.