Vienna Part 2 - A Palace, a squirrel and a puss finger walk into a bar...

We wake up with the intention of catching a training session at the Spanish Riding School, but it was a two hour show so we decided against it. We opted instead for Schonnbrune Palace and a ride around the Ringstrasse.

We had already seen the inside of a palace the day before and headed out into the palace grounds for a change of pace. They were immaculate, immersive, and transcendental. It may have been the hazy, wet weather that added to the atmosphere, but we felt were walking around a living postcard. The groomed lawn design alluded to musical annotations, a reminder of Viennas heritage of composers you don't know by name, but who's works have survived and influenced the centuries. Flanking the lawn, we numerous neoclassical statues, in case you forgot this was the seat of the empire, nothing says empire more than all things Rome. Further still (and we're not done yet), was a fountain so magnificent that it rivals, if not surpasses the majesty of Trevi fountain. That is, until you get closer and clearly see the Trevi sculptors either had better techniques and/or better materials to work with. Also, we didn't quite understand why a merman would have two tails (one for each leg) instead of the traditional one tail most half human/half fish mystical creatures usually have. It really just looks like someone wanted to sculpt some ass, but who are we to judge...

Beyond the fountain was the crown of the grounds, the Gloriette. We later learned from Wikipedia that it was originally "designed to glorify Habsburg power and the Just War [a war that would be carried out of 'necessity' and lead to peace]" Now it's just a cafe selling overpriced schlop to tourists. We weren't hungry, we weren't thirsty, so we did an about face an checked in with the you ar,e here map. At this point, we had maybe covered a third of the palace grounds, not counting the zoo. The rain was picking up andI was still a little sick; further exploration was vetoed and we headed back down hill.

We were accompanied by, or rather it felt like an interrogation from, a black squirrel. This little guy came right up to us, put is nut down and starred up as if to say "where the fuck do you think you're going?" followed by "this is my forest" and "I better not catch you fucking around". He did this two or three more times before we finally exited the forest path back towards the main gates. This caused us to reflect that despite our mostly urban adventures, we've encountered an awful lot of "nature" on this trip: the seagulls in Croatia, the spider living at Dave's house, the fish in Ibiza and so on...

Back in the center of Vienna, we took up a tip from practically everyone who's ever been there to ride the tram around the Ringstrasse. You basically get to see everything from town hall, the opera house and the Stadt park to everything in-between. We never made it as far as the Stadt Park, but we did make it as far as the nearest Kasekeiner. This little gem we learned from watching Anthony Bourdain and confirmed with our friends the night before at dinner. Also known as the puss finger, it's simply a cheese stuffed sausage and it's simply delicious. Nothing hits the spot better on a cold rainy day than something warm and cheesy. It can be served on either a plate with fries or stuffed into a roll. We chose the latter for the comedic photo op:

The rest of our stay in Vienna was short lived. Dinner with friends followed by an endless stroll and a night cap. Almost dreamlike in its charm, Vienna is definitely worth a return visit. It's insane to plan new trips when were only half way through this one, but we hope to return next year for the christmass market at Schonbrunn, to experience more of Vienna, and to conquer pork mountain.

- Bill

The Comfort Zone

After spending two days in Vienna, I was haunted by this feeling that I've been here before, that I've seen this city, and felt at home. It wasn't a sense of deja vu or a newly found appreciation for past lives, rather it was the sense of the familiar. Largely architectural in nature, it took me a while to realize I felt back in New York. Throw in the chic riverside bar with panoramic views and a trendy, no sign restaurant packed at 10pm on a Tuesday and the similarities were remarkable. Cementing the sense of comfort was a walk down a major shopping boulevard that had all the hallmark shops of Fifth Avenue and Soho.

The twist, was the overwhelming sense of class Vienna exudes. For example, the opera house has an exterior jumbotron so the less fortunate can also enjoy the opera. Not to mention the green belt of public buildings, with identical facing museums, various testaments to the Hapsburg's wealth, etc. The city is also saturated with cafes that serve as portals through time and space. While searching for an end of night espresso, we stumbled upon the Michele, a small cafe and pizzeria that our Italian friends testify to being straight out of Italy in the 1920's. The decor was antique (and most likely authentic) which helped create the sense that we were now part of Woody Allen's new movie (with a few minor substitutions). Claire's observation that Vienna could be the love child of Paris and New York couldn't have felt more true.

Having spent almost three months abroad only to feel like we were back in NYC however, began to paint a bigger picture: we never truly left our comfort zone. We had foreknowledge that a summer in Europe would be a step out of the zone before we leaped out of the zone (and into India), but in retrospect we barely put on our shoes. Well, maybe at least the socks...

With the exception of Zadar, we had visited places where we knew people and/or had an elementary language comprehension. I can speak a little German and a little Spanish, and we had friends in Berlin, Italy, and Ibiza. Even in Vienna, our friends from Italy now lived there. A convenience of timing, jobs, relationships and flight schedules. Perhaps more of a contrivance than a convenience, but to our benefit nonetheless.

Then we hit Malaga.

We were relieved to be back in warmer weather, but this time we were on our own. No friends, no phone and a barely passing ability to speak the local language. Unlike Ibiza, not a lot of English is spoken here. Best guesses, English words with Spanish accents, and hand gestures that hopefully won't be mistaken for insults would have to suffice. Despite these obstacles, we still felt, well, relaxed. The pace of the town and our experiences were not unlike our time in Zadar. Sit on the beach, eat seafood, explore the city, repeat. No hassles or feelings of discomfort here. "Una jarra de Cerveza con Esperato Sardinias" while starring off to the horizon would put anyone at ease.

Until you start thinking about the horizon.

Not the literal one, but the figurative one representing the "out there", or "just ahead". That, for us, is India. I've been joking along saying "India is going to punch our reality in the face" half believing it. Though after a day in Tangier, I fully believe it.

My personality skews towards "hope for the best, prepare for the worst". The problem is, I know ZERO about Morocco. It's hard to prepare for the worst when your not prepared at all. I'm not trying to say It's the shit hole 50% of the people you talk to say it is, but what I am saying is when you don't know where you are, don't speak the language, don't know the culture and stick out like a sore thumb, comfort takes a back seat to practical matters. Your priorities go from "let's get donuts from a street vendor" (which we later did anyway) to "don't let your wife out of your site" and so on.

We have left the comfort zone.

But we're soon heading back. We're only in Tangier for another day, followed by three days in Paris. Then we hit India. Which, hard to believe, might keep us in the zone. We did a ton of research, they're notorious English speakers, and at no point will we be on our own. Three weeks with a volunteer group followed by a week with a guided tour. Our expectations are reasonable: we know about the toilettes, customs, foods, etc to manage the experience as best we can and will just have to wing it from there. Compared to Tangier, we should be OK.

Then again, we're taking a 48 hour train ride from Delhi to Cochin... I really hate getting punched in the face.

- Bill