I awoke, showered, and left the apartment at a leisurely pace. My train was not due to leave the station until 11:07 CEST. The station was a mere 5 minute walk away.
As I was packing, what can only be described as a “barrage” of emails arrived in my “Inbox”, detailing various late departure times for my train. These varied from 21 to 29 minutes in the emails, and on arrival to the station appeared to be closer to 1 hour. I was in no rush to make connections, so I enjoyed a coffee, and a cinnamon bun by way of breakfast.
As I was reading, eating, and drinking, three gentlemen who I estimated to be in the 55 – 70 age bracket arrived in lederhosen. This was the first time I had seen this garment worn since a visit to Munich some 18 years before. I wondered if the excitement I felt that this was clearly a natural thing to wear, compared with a similar emotion tourists in Scotland experience when encountering people wearing kilts.
I retired to the waiting room, and caught up on some correspondence. My train was still scheduled to be 50+ minutes late in departing.
A visit to the facilities was necessary, and as I was waiting to scan my card to pay, another email landed detailing a new plan for my train. It was in fact to be split in two parts. One would arrive at Vienna Airport, and the other in Budapest. A quick check of the carriage I was in confirmed my presence in the Vienna section. I relaxed understanding the plan, and grateful for accurate email translation from the original German. I still assumed a 50+ minute departure after the originally publicised time.
My relaxed state was somewhat inhibited by a further email giving another departure notice as 18 minutes from the original time. Given that the time was now 15 minutes from the original time, the facilities were used quickly. I made my way with some speed to the platform, and through a series of deductions of the train number, available carriage numbers, and original departure time detailed on the information board, concluded that the train currently rolling in to the platform was the one I should get on.
I got on the train, and found my seat. I was grateful for the trail of breadcrumb-like clues laid down for me by Österreichische Bundesbahnen. My gratitude was extended and combined with relief, and return of the relaxed state when my ticket was checked, confirmed, and stamped.
As I travelled west, I noted a good mix of deciduous, and evergreen trees, alongside small towns, villages, and hamlets. These appeared to me as very pleasant places to spend one’s days.
I started reading the next in the series of “Crookhaven” books, having finished and very much enjoyed reading “Kaspar, Prince of Cats”. I resolved to leave this, and other books at some kind of book exchange in Vienna for others to enjoy.
I arrived at Wien Hauptbahnhof, or Vienna Main Railway Station at 13:49 CEST. I had the foresight to plan ahead and had already paid for a “7 Days Digital Vienna” ticket to cover me on all transport within the city. This allowed me to catch an “18” tram to Westbahnhof or West Railway Station, close to where my apartment was located.
A code gained me entry, where the numbering system inside the block was a little confusing. My instructions were “3rd floor” but the apartments seemed to be on a series of half-floors. Not only this but numbers 19, and 20 were on a floor below number 15, which was to be mine for the duration. No matter, the apartment was located, and a further code yielded the keys.
I found my apartment to be spacious, interesting, and well-supplied. It was essentially a “studio”-type apartment with a kitchen, dishwasher, and washing machine. The latter I resolved to make use of imminently given that nothing had been washed other than my bodily self in nearly 5 days.
After some internal orientation, I walked back to the West Railway Station where sources had suggested I would find a supermarket for the purchasing of miscellaneous goods. I did indeed see the ever familiar “Lidl” sign, but had been advised that “Billa Plus” would be a more interesting option. Indeed, this was located inside the shopping centre encompassing the railway station and felt very much in the “Waitrose” vein one would experience in places such as Edinburgh. I also uncovered a post office, where I was able to offload my correspondence.
I would admit to getting a little over excited in the supermarket, as the evidence of my basket piling ever higher, and higher would corroborate. However, I feel no particular shame as the experience of a foreign supermarket is a very valuable one it it’s own right. I purchased a number of breads, meats, cheeses, fruits, crisps, and drinks, as well as some everyday items relating to cleanliness.
As I attempted to “self-checkout” I was pleased that there was an option to switch the instructions to English. This fell slightly flat however when I realised that the instructions switched back to German when I needed to look up “items without a bar code”. The German for “cucumber” (“gurke”) was easily found and made linguistic sense. When it came to the potato salad, and the breads I did have to requested assistance from the mildly harassed looking shop attendant. I resolved next time to take a note of the names of these items when I take them from their various lairs.
Shopping purchased, I strolled merrily back to the apartment. I considered the extent to which I was possibly in the most conveniently located apartment I had ever stayed in, given the proximity to so many useful shops, and services.
I took a shower, now feeling very sticky from the combination of train travel, luggage carrying, and intense shopping. A change of clothes was also welcomed, now I had the opportunity to recreate cleanliness on the items I had worn thus far.
As I consumed my wares on the balcony of my apartment, I felt pleased to have perhaps finally found the sense of true relaxation I had been striving for. I was also looking forward to seeing what this city had to offer.
I raised a glass of Austrian white wine to my travels, and experiences past, present, and future.
