I find nothing says, “Welcome, Americans” like a tank in front of the Parliament Building.
We arrived Vienna on Wednesday, after exploring Budapest for 3.5 days. People had cautioned us that Vienna was really expensive and the least interesting of the three cities we had on our itinerary, so we entered with low expectations… and were pleasantly surprised!
Our first full day in town was their big state holiday: National Day. Having googled it, I now know that they’re celebrating their declaration of permanent neutrality and regained status as an independent and sovereign nation in 1955. Before googling, I would’ve thought that it was a celebration of all uniformed professions, with an emphasis on the military, because we woke up to a town swimming in soldiers. Ironically, with troops marching in formation everywhere around town, it made it pretty easy to imagine Nazi-occupied Vienna.
In an attempt to get our bearings (and fill in the gaps in our knowledge of Austrian history), we took a free walking tour. Maybe on another day, it would’ve been a superb tour, but on this day our guide (named Franz Joseph, like the former Austrian emperor) seemed to be phoning it in. I’m going to go out on a limb and say he may have overdone his patriotic celebrations the night before and was nursing a monster hangover; he offered little by way of historical facts and instead spent the tour making cracks about the Austrian military’s ineffectiveness and the inbreeding habits of the royal families.
While we’re usually not quitters, with a limited amount of time to explore this grand city, we decided to cut our losses and ghosted mid-way through the tour. We used the money we would’ve tipped a good guide to instead get fancy coffees and Kaiserschmarrn (an Austrian tradition!) on the patio of Café Mozart. Perhaps the best decision we made in Austria!*
I couldn’t talk Alan into seeing an opera (I KNOW, right?!) but he was interested in seeing the famous Lippanzer horses, so we grabbed tickets and took in a practice session, which, as it turns out, should more accurately be named, “Horse Walking.” The practice consists of four 30 minute blocks featuring six different horses and riders in the ring at a time. A few horses were actually working on tricks (like weird little dance steps or balancing on their rear legs) but most of them seemed to be tasked with the basics, like walking close to a wall. While it certainly wasn’t riveting theatre, it was still interesting to learn about the Spanish Riding School and the training process. And it was raining outside, so… not the worst way to spend the morning.
Speaking of rain: on our way to the flea market (Naschmarkt) for lunch, the skies opened up and dumped on us. We arrived at the market just as the rain started falling in sheets, and took shelter under the awning of a fish stand where we ordered a basket of fried shrimp. Our intention was to lazily eat our way through the market, but there’s nothing relaxing about eating in the middle of a downpour where hurricane-force winds are driving the rain sideways at you. On another day, it would’ve been a great plan. Instead we ended up bailing and running in a restaurant across the street to dry off and split a plate of fish and chips. So much for channeling Anthony Bourdain.
Speaking of plans gone bust: I’d read that heurigers (quaint little estates where they have weingartens that also serve food) are a uniquely Austrian experience. I thought hitting one on our last day in town would give us a reason to check out a different part of the area, since some are a tram ride about an hour outside the heart of the city. After navigating a tram-line under construction (which called for a partial detour using the subway), we arrived in Nussdorf with high hopes.
Alas, the first one we went to had a sign on its gate indicating that it was closed all day for a private event. Boo. Fortunately, there was a second heuriger in town (and on the same street) so we shuffled along. Unfortunately, it ALSO had a sign on its gate, but we couldn’t figure out what it meant. I tried using Google Translate’s photo app on my phone, and the resulting (obviously incorrect) translation had us raising our eyebrows: “Nazis – attending – pay – listen.”
I was like, “Whelp. I think that means we probably should just keep walking.” Alan was undeterred, so he opened the gate. We found ourselves walking through what appeared to be the backyard of a home, which lead to a room that looked like a restaurant. The back door to the apparent restaurant was open and a woman was washing tables. It seemed pretty obvious that whatever the sign said, they weren’t open for business. Alan cheerfully proceeded, not at all concerned that we might be intruding on a Nazi lair. I pointed my toes toward the gate, ready to take off.
Turns out, it wasn’t a Nazi lair, but it also was closed for the day. We cut our losses and instead found a quaint local restaurant where we were able to split a delicious pork roast with a single potato dumpling the size of a tennis ball (weird) and a bowl of cabbage with bacon.
A word on food: If you are a fan of meat and potatoes, central Europe is your friend. Our trip featured multiple meals of schnitzel, sausages, goulash, and stroganoff. My pick for the best hot dog: Vienna. The street vendors will drill a hole in a baguette and drop a foot-long sausage down the hole with either ketchup or mustard, then put the tip of the loaf back on top like the sausage is wearing a hat. Delicious!
This is where the magic happens.
It was ambitious to try to hit three cities in 10 days, but I’m glad we took the time to stop in Vienna. On Saturday we said, “Auf Wiedersehen” and headed to the train station for our four hour trek to Prague.
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*Clarification: I would’ve said that the best decision we made in Austria was asking a stranger to verify that we were at the correct train station when we had only 3 minutes to make a connecting train to Prague, but technically that happened in Breclav, which was just across the border, in the Czech Republic. More on that – and the frantic tossing of baggage off the train – later.
pithypants 
While I am still disappointed you didn’t eat a hotdog in Frankfurt, the mental picture of that hotdog with a hat mostly makes up for it. Glad you had fun! And if anyone can hit 3 cities in 10 days, I’d put my money on you.
Now that you know hot dogs CAN have hats, you’ll never be the same. Right?