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| Sud Bahnhof, Wien |
Back to Vienna, this time taking the OBB train from Bratislava Hl. Stanica (Main Station) to Sudbahnhof, Wien. The temperature plummeted to just over 10C on arrival at Vienna. Overnight, without a single warning, early winter had descended upon this imperial city. The Sudbhanhof was under reconstruction, so it was a case of following the crowd to the S-bahn station to figure out how to get into the city centre. Actually, we could have got off the train at Simmering and then took the U2 line right to the centre.
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| Clown at St Stephen's Platz |
St Stephan Platz was as lively as ever, thronged by tourists. The men in brocades, lace and periwegs were still there, selling concert tickets. Without the blue sky, and with everybody wrapped in winter clothing, there was a pervasive greyness about the city. Coming from Bratislava, one's sensitivity was suddenly assaulted by a huge array of luxury goods, largely beyond the dreams of ordinary Slovakians who earn a meagre €300 to €400 a month. It was a jolt to re-enter a world of limitless budgets and conspicuous consumption.
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| New figures at St Stephen's Platz |
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| The magnificent St Peter's Church |
Just around the corner from Stephansdom is the gloriously baroque St Peter's Church. Located at Petersplatz, a side street off the pedestrianised area, it can be easily overlooked by the passing tourists. The church makes an overwhelming impression on the visitor with its surprisingly rich interior filled with golden stucco. On the day, a group of young girls were singing under the direction of their choir mistress, and their gentle voices filled the church with sweet music.
Then we were back to the Kunsthistorisches Museum at the Museum Quarter. After tea at the magnificent restaurant, served by some arrogant Viennese waiters, we spent a rainy afternoon wandering the art galleries on the first floor. It was a treasure trove of great paintings, with big rooms and plenty of seating area for visitors to step back, sit down and admire the fabulous collection. We came across two painters who had set up easle inside the gallery. Here, an artist was reproducing Vemeer's The Art of Painting, and a very good one at that too. When asked why he was doing it, he modestly replied: "Just for myself". "Really? Will you be hanging this in your house?" I asked. There was no reply, just a wry smile.
For me, one of the highlights was Dirk de Quade's Resting Venus, showing a voluptuous nude in a sensuous reclining position. As it was not a featured painting on the audio guide route, not a single note-taking Japanese was in sight.
But Vienna is not Vienna without the chocolates, and an abundant amount of them too. Some of the shops displayed the most exquisite varieties, as if they were crafted for posterity rather than consumption.
On our way back to Bratislava, whilst waiting for the train at the Sudbahnhof, I noticed a tabak shop selling a large range of cigarettes, including some names from the bygone days. Unexpectedly, we came across 6 Russian youths, who were knocking back cans of lager, and one of the more sober ones told us that they were from Moscow and were visiting Vienna via Bratislava. It was his dream to visit London, quite why, I can only guess, as so many Russian oligarchs had decided to set up residence in England.
Then we were back to the Kunsthistorisches Museum at the Museum Quarter. After tea at the magnificent restaurant, served by some arrogant Viennese waiters, we spent a rainy afternoon wandering the art galleries on the first floor. It was a treasure trove of great paintings, with big rooms and plenty of seating area for visitors to step back, sit down and admire the fabulous collection. We came across two painters who had set up easle inside the gallery. Here, an artist was reproducing Vemeer's The Art of Painting, and a very good one at that too. When asked why he was doing it, he modestly replied: "Just for myself". "Really? Will you be hanging this in your house?" I asked. There was no reply, just a wry smile.
On our way back to Bratislava, whilst waiting for the train at the Sudbahnhof, I noticed a tabak shop selling a large range of cigarettes, including some names from the bygone days. Unexpectedly, we came across 6 Russian youths, who were knocking back cans of lager, and one of the more sober ones told us that they were from Moscow and were visiting Vienna via Bratislava. It was his dream to visit London, quite why, I can only guess, as so many Russian oligarchs had decided to set up residence in England.