Vienna may not be the most happening place on the planet, but unlike it’s degenerate brother Salzburg, its train station looks like it was constructed in the last 350 years.
That being said, the older architecture present in the city is pleasant, and it’s a pretty big cultural powerhouse, more in terms of art and classical music.
I glanced through the gallery of the Albertina, a museum that used to serve as apartments to the Hapsburgs. For those of you not familiar with European lineage, the Hapsburgs were a…family….from…history. (Look it up, losers. You’re on the Internet anyway.)
The museum part was filled with paintings from Monet and Picasso, along with other artists bridging the two. I had no idea who these other guys were, so I don’t know why you should, either.
The Hapsburg apartment section of the museum was kinda nuts. If you found Obama had the kind of fancy pants stuff they had, occupying Wall Street would be the least of your concerns.
Of course, pictures weren’t permitted in the museum, but i did manage to snap some photos of the entrance to the apartments.
Those are some fancy looking steps.
I also toured Mozart’s apartment. Yes, the very same Mozart made famous by Falco’s hit 1980s anthem “Der Kommissar”. Again, pictures weren’t allowed, so I can’t show you anything. The most interesting is Mozart’s “Death Mask”. Mozart’s piano was not in attendance because it had been moved to his home in, you guessed it, Salzburg.
Given Vienna’s history of classical music, I also decided to take in an orchestra show by the Vienna Philharmonic at the Musikverein. I can only assume that that translates to “Wherein, Music”, which makes sense.
It was a beautiful big orchestra hall.
I, of course, was relegated to the back with all the other “standing room” chattel.
I thought the show was pretty good, despite my knowledge of classical music being limited to Bugs Bunny cartoons and that old ad for the Starz Channel. (“Movies, movies, only movies, movies, movies, mooohoovies”, you know the one I’m talking about)
The thing that struck me most about Vienna, though, was that no one in my hostel, aside from the front desk staff spoke a word of English. It was all German.
I felt like I was drowning in a see of umlauts and diphthongs.
No, I don’t actually know what a diphthong is, and I don’t need you to tell me.
The one exception to the German rule was my roommate Sebastian, who spoke only French. This brought my extreme lack of skill in the French language into sharp relief. Our conversations consisted of:
“Ca va, Sebastian?”
“Oui, ca va. Et toi?”
“Oui, ca va bien.”
…for three days.
Paris is going to be a nightmare.