After breakfast, and cleanliness I took myself on a similar foot-route to the day before. Early in my journey, I was saddened to see a pigeon dismembered by a passing lorry. I was however impressed at the accuracy of the tyre of said lorry hitting said pigeon. I wondered to what extent the lorry driver would have accomplished this feat had such a trial been suggested.
I spend a brief moment mourning the loss of the pigeon before moving on.
My travails put me very much back in the historic heart of the city. I was surrounded by the most opulent buildings. For the first time I passed the medieval beauty of St. Stephen’s Cathedral. I was taken aback by the ornate architecture, with geometric patterns abounding. I resolved to pay it a proper visit later.
I had decided to continue to investigate the story of the Hapsburg family with a visit to the Imperial Crypt. Here, a number of the royal dynasty are interred, and it seemed an appropriate “next step” after my learning previous. I noted that there was a tour in English at 15:00 CEST. The ticket was purchased, and I looked for a venue for a suitable refreshment break.
This was found in “Kafee Alt Wein”. Sources had suggested that opposed to being a tourist venue, this was more a place where Viennese locals would actually spend time. It also had the classic Viennese staples on the menu, so seemed a fairly good “bet”.
As with many establishments in the 21st century, the menu was available in German, and English via the scan of a “Quick Response” or “QR” code. This revealed the available of “Viennese Melange” (coffee) and “Homemade plum jam buns”. The latter were recommended to be served with vanilla sauce, so all this was duly ordered. The very pleasant waiting gentleman was initially confused by my halting pronunciation, perhaps paired with my rather unfamiliar accent. However, a combination of my pointing at the menu, and the charming man’s flawless spoken, and understood English resulted in the comestibles being presented to me with due speed. These were very much enjoyed, along with my reading of the second volume in the “Crookhaven” series.
I walked slowly back to the crypt, digesting all the while.
As chance would have it, I was the only person on the tour. My guide was lovely, and very helpful in answering my questions. She seemed pleased that I already had some familiarity with the history, and the importance of the Hapsburg family.
There were tales of inset, unhappy marriages, seemingly forced marriages, many childhood deaths, and lots of personal arrangements for political advantage. There was “Sisi”, the story of whom bore a striking comparison with that of Diana, Princess of Wales, and even an example of a ruler I would describe as a “socialist”.
Not only that, but the various caskets took us through a history of art, and a history of power statements by way of propaganda.
I enjoyed the tour very much, and spent some time having a look for myself once I had bid farewell to my guide. I noted the tell-tale “Hapsburg Jaw” as the sign of inbreeding in many of the portraits of the deceased. My mind harped back to the often-discussed haemophilia that arose in the UK Royal Family, for essentially the same reason.
After I left the crypt, I took trip to the nearby “Apple” shop to find out why my iPhone 13 was not charging, and to purchase a cable to remedy this. I then tried a recommended establishment for dinner/drinks, but found it uniformly reserved. As a result, I located another establishment some 15 minutes walk away, but in fact closer to the location of the cultural experience of the evening. Here, at “Bierteufl” I was welcomed, and swiftly had a full glass in front of me. I relaxed, contemplated, and read as a very welcome light breeze cooled me down.
I ordered the tarte flambée, which turned out to be an Austrian take on pizza. It’s worth bearing in mind that there is a shared border with Italy, so it can be no surprise that there is significant commonality between the two countries. In fact, my crypt-guide earlier in the day had told me that an ancestor of hers had emigrated from Scotland to Italy. There are a number of possible reasons for this, but given the number of “greats” involved in the generational pinpointing of said ancestor, I took a “stab” that there was perhaps a Jacobean aspect to this historic change of location.
Suffice to say, I enjoyed my Austrian pizza very much, and took the opportunity to sample the “dünkel” version of the cloudy “blonde” beer I had sampled on arrival.
An 11 minute walk took me to the location of “Carmen”. This is a well-known, and well-loved opera written in 1875 by Georges Bizet. The libretto was written by Henri Meilhac and Ludovic Halévy. I had researched the plot prior to arrival, and gathered that the “long story short” is that Don José would be seduced by the fiery Carmen, and would eventually kill her over a period of 4 acts.
I was excited as I have always said “l don’t like opera”. However, I recognise that I have no evidence for this, having never listened to, watched on screen, or attended one in person. I was resolved to challenge this, and uncover the truth.
On entering the arena, I felt quite the scruffy imposter compared to the rest of the clientele. However, the complement given by the nice person selling programmes on my “Ghostbusters” bag reassured me. I duly bought a programme, visited the facilities, and settled down to watch the performance. I was pleased that subtitles were available on my iPhone 13 via another “Quick Response” code. I took that opportunity, and waited, breath suitably baited.
The first act saw Carmen seduce military man Don José, stab her friend, and get arrested. She was then released by said Mr. José against his better judgment, who is then imprisoned.
Act two followed straight after. I watched as Carmen got into cahoots with a troop of miscreants who were potting to snuggle some goods through the mountains. A brief interlude occured with a bullfighter who had clearly been engaging with the “Manosphere”. Don José then reappeared having been released from prison. Carmen persuaded him to desert his military assignment, which he did.
There was an interval, and many ordered drinks.
Act 3 found Carmen, José, and the miscreants living in the mountains. Carmen was getting bored of José so chose to go with the macho bullfighter when he just so happened to drop by. This all came to a head in Act 4 when the bullfighter was to impress Carmen by fighting bulls, as one does. Instead, Carmen met José outside who spent some time begging her to return to him. She refused multiple times. He killed her. End of play.
It was a magical performance. I very much enjoyed the staging. As the sun set it became ever more striking. At the interval, the whole set was illuminated with Spanish fans, and made quite the spectacle.
I enjoyed the musicianship too. It was clear that everyone was a master of their craft. To control the voice to that extent seemed quite remarkable. The orchestra were very impressive as well. I was amused to note that they performed inside a small hut, albeit a lavishly decorated one. One could imagine the conversation of “…if you think I’m playing my expensive double bass in a situation where rain is probable, you have another thing coming.”.
In fact, it did rain. I imagine the orchestra members were grateful for their cover. From my perspective, this augmented the experience. We were encouraged not to use umbrellas unless we were in the back row.
All this being the case, I now have evidence. It turns out that I do in fact like opera. I have always liked a spectacular show with impressive musicianship, and this was nothing less. The subtitles were a significant help and allowed me to follow the storyline with no difficulty whatsoever.
Another useful touch was the presence of an actor playing Bitzet himself, serving as a narator of sorts. Again, his words were translated by my iPhone 13 and very much aided my understanding of the plot, and characters.
I resolved to explore more in this genre over time.
I made my way back on the U3 to Westbahnhof. I felt like I’d had a good mix of history, culture, food, and drink on what felt like a very Viennese day.
