Week Twenty-Three

A bit of a non-day today: our intention was vaguely to leave Cesky Krumlov today, but we didn't get anywhere near ready over the weekend. Our revised intention was to get ready today and leave tomorrow, but we also manage not to get ready today either. Milla indulges in some questionable herbages during the afternoon and spends the next few hours weaving about and falling asleep at the internet terminal. It's dull and wet and getting colder - winter may finally be setting in again - so we don't revisit the castle gardens for photos. Instead we have a pizza (which Milla remembers nothing of) and round off the evening by watching a Czech Olympic hockey match in the hostel from midnight. The Belgian girls have left and been replaced by a French couple, who are also trying to have an early night (from 22.00!). They have our sympathy more than they have our co-operation (Milla decides to wash all the dishes later).

We're slightly more determined today than yesterday, and hit Ceske Budejovice in the morning to confirm/determine bus/train prices and times. There's a cheap and direct bus to Linz early on Wednesday mornings, but it's really early: indirect buses don't seem to be much of an option, because of missing or overly long connections. Alternatively, there's a mid-morning direct train to Austria (again Linz), and an early afternoon indirect train. Of these options, Milla favours the 06.45 bus, because it's cheaper and quicker: I favour the early afternoon indirect trip because it'll be less hassle to catch in the first place - and we'll get to have breakfast.
While in Ceske B, we pick up food for lots of days (Austria will be expensive) and toiletries and film. Final observations about shopping in the Czech Rep are twofold. Firstly, even if you're only pricing, or buying a Mars bar, you're pretty much obliged to take a shopping basket or trolley round with you. Secondly, despite the fact that tills are everywhere (you almost always get a till receipt), most cash transactions are affected through a wallet: although this happens in other countries in cafés (where you might want to pay at the table), it's almost universal here except in shops with checkout queues (big chemists, the larger supermarkets, etc.).
We head back to Cesky K on a 14.20 bus. Milla dashes aboard and is halfway through buying tickets before I attract her attention to the fact that the bus is standing room only - I won't board it with my arm the way it is. We find another bus and get seats (just as well - soon it's standing room only as well): we seem to have discovered when most Czechs travel.
Back at the hostel we start packing - actually Milla insists that she and she alone will pack (which I suppose is fair, since she'll be carrying pretty much everything): heavy stuff and Milla's rucksack go in Helen's wheeled suitcase; lighter stuff and daily requirements go in my rucksack, which will have to be carried as a rucksack. We announce our intention to leave tomorrow to everyone - Milla intends getting up at 04.00, which will be challenging. I go to bed early as she packs, but she doesn't finish until 02.30.

Needless to say, we didn't get up at 04.00: Milla had a backup plan of the 08.50 bus (it would have connected with the mid-morning train to Linz), but we get up too late for that as well. We have breakfast (people keep saying things like "Oh - are you still here?"), and we eventually set off at about 10.30 to catch the 11.25 bus (with assistance from one of our fellow residents). It's cold and it's raining, which makes carrying the bags all the worse for Milla, but also means that it's psychologically a good day to a.) be travelling and b.) be leaving the Czech Rep.
Finally leaving Cesky Krumlov, hate it though I kinda do, I feel it probably deserves 3/10: there's a lot to do/see (for somewhere that size); the shopping and night-life aren't that bad, and the whole place is incredibly scenic.

Aboard our last CSAD Jihotrans bus, we discover another fellow resident is planning pretty much the same route today (Tristan, an Aussie), except that from Linz he's heading directly towards Vienna. He's in a bit of a rush, since he considers 35 minutes quite tight to make the connection (ie. get to the train station, buy the appropriate tickets, and find the train). We potter about at a far less frenetic pace (admittedly we checked most of the details yesterday) and although he beats us to the ticket office, we beat him to the double-decker train (which pulls away a few minutes later). Like the bus south from Cesky Krumlov two weeks ago, the train soon climbs into the hills that line the border with Austria - the track meanders through small gorges, light forest, and an increasing amount of snow on the ground.
We reach the border at Horni Dvoriste ("Horni D") and cross the platform to a waiting train - there are only a dozen people making this trip, so we have a carriage to ourselves. Milena and Tristan nip out to find a station shop in which to spent their last koruna: they return in a few minutes with chocolate-covered-rice cakes. I've meanwhile been stalling both the conductor and passport control, which seems to happen before the train leaves. Milena and I are fine, but Tristan's visa doesn't have an entry stamp/signature (his night train from Germany apparently missed passport control): the train is delayed while they sort the problem and run checks. And then there's a short (cigarette-length) through some fields into the little Austrian village of Summerau. Passport control and customs are an almost non-existent formality (even for Milla and her Romanian passport) - our easiest so far. If anyone wants to get into the EU on a dodgy passport, this is the place to do it.
Ten minutes after we disembark, the Austrian train to Linz pulls in and we board: Milla is very impressed - as far as she's concerned it's a "Star Trek" train. Fitted in clean and comfortable pale blue and white, it's a coach-type (rather than compartment-type) carriage, the doors open and close automatically, the toilets are clean and they have bog-roll. Also, as it pulls away southwards, it's smooth and virtually silent. An hour and a quarter later we pull into grey and industrial Linz.

We bid farewell to Tristan, check our train times (there's an express to Salzburg in 15 minutes) and try to get some euros out of an ATM - I have a plan to replace my mostly-depleted stock of sterling with a new stash of euros, which I can do from Austria without incurring a currency exchange comission (except the one from the bank). Or rather I can't, since the ATM isn't interested in giving me any money on either of my cards. We nip outside the station in search of another ATM - there's a pleasant little square (pleasant considering the industrial wilderness we saw on the way into Linz), but no cash machines. The ticket desk takes my Mastercard without question, however, and also takes 16.50 euros for each of us for a two-hour journey (the non-express later would have cost the same) - ouch! Some things clearly haven't changed in Austria. Still, it's evidence that we're really in Western Europe.
The scenery gradually becomes more vertical as we head west towards the Alps (seems fair), and I'm excited to see real snow-capped mountains as we near Salzburg. The station is fairly dull and station-like, but has an ATM which likes at least one of my cards and a newsagent selling Silk Cut (first pack since Greece, back in November). Then onto the hostel - "YOHO", just four blocks from the station: in our current condition (me an invalid and Milena carrying/pulling enough stuff for two people) proximity to the station is far more important than price (19 euros each in a double room - ouch again!). It's also far more important than facilities, which are frankly pretty spartan at YOHO. We each get a 6-minute shower token (you can buy them separately), there are no self-catering facilities, no real common areas except their bar, no lift (a pain - we're two floors up) and a sink with no hot water in the room. They also don't like you eating (or smoking) in the rooms, presumably mainly to get you to use their bar and catering facilities. Bizarrely, they do have a farm (uniquely for a hostel, in my experience) near Salzburg: even more bizarrely, they have Highland Cattle on this farm (and photos on the walls of the hostel).

We check out the room (there's a third bed, so I have an extra pillow for support), have something to eat (at least testing the element after I rewired it in Cesky K - miraculously it works), and then set out to explore Salzburg at night. En route out, we encounter some of the Australians we met in Cesky Krumlov: they're heading out for alcohol, but we prefer to do the tourist thing. The okay Mirabell Gardens, to the southwest of the hostel, take us to the Mozarteum, the Puppet Theatre (puppets seem to be big in this whole area, though I have no idea why), and the Regional Theatre. Just down the road from these three adjacent and externally dull buildings is Mozart's former residence in Makartplatz: it has the words "Mozart Wohnhaus" in large letters on the front, which must have made it easy for Wolfe to choose somewhere to live. From there we cross the Makart footbridge into the semicircular riverside area that is old Salzburg: the semicircle is surrounded by the sheer 75m slopes of the Monschsberg. In the night, with the black water of the Salzach below us, the sight of these illuminated cliffs is such that Milla exlaims "Oh, my Googoo": clearly my lucid use of English has been rubbing off on her.
In the deepening cold, we quickly tour past Mozart's birthplace (again, with "Mozarts Geburthaus" on the front: useful for Mrs. Mozart), the dull Rathaus, the impressive college church and the disappointingly less impressive, though larger, cathedral. We hurry back across the Salzach and back to the hostel in the biting wind (Milla's good with cold, but less so with cold and wind: Edinburgh will be a shock for her). Exhausted and feeling that we've just seen all of Salzburg already, we crash out in the cold room, with the thin blankets offering little solice or warmth.
Our first day in Austria also sees my on-road costs hit the third £1,000: it took 45 days, 44 days of which was on the road and therefore included accommodation and transport costs for both of us (though no transport costs for 19 days). Accommodation came in highest at £382, with food (£250) and transportation costs (£164) making up most of the rest. Other areas of expenditure included cigarettes (£69); films and processing (£60); entrance fees (£18); and internet time (£17).

We get up at 08.30 and discover that the Sound of Music posters, fliers, leaflets and video (played once per day) aren't in fact part of a horrible nightmare - they do pretty much fill the hostel. Breakfast is mostly a good, large Austrian cup of coffee from the bar, supplemented from our bag of provisions. We book a second night (second nights are cheaper, but not much) and eventually head out into Salzburg again at 11.00. Salzburg is a pretty small city comprising the sheltered old area on the southwest bank of the Salzach, the wide flat area to the north (bordered by the Kapuzinerberg opposite the old town) and the suburbs: the central area of the old town, and north bank, are only a fifteen-minute walk from side to side

Our primary target is Tourist Information in the old town, and we start by retracing our steps to the Mirabell Palace and gardens - much of the route, unlike last night, is now crowded with busy and bustling market stalls and shopping Austrians, many of them in green hats with feathers. In fact hats are something of a local favorite as well - in addition to pastry, fruit, meat and the other usual stalls, there are hat stalls. Flowers are starting to come up in the Mirabell gardens (we can see them in the daylight), and there's a good view across the gardens to the old town and over-looking castle. The best view is from a little hill which is actually barriered off - there's a sign warning that the snow and ice haven't been cleared. On the basis that the snow and ice have actually melted, we are undeterred. Adjacent to the Mirabell gardens is the Mirabell Palace, but it's boring, square and large: more interesting is its history - it was built by one of Salzburg's Prince-Archbishops for his mistress (and, presumably, some of their fifteen children).

We walk along the riverside, prettier but less dramatic in the daylight, and reflect that this view of the old town would have been exactly what Mozart knew (except the trams) - all the visible buildings pre-date him. The Information Centre is in a little square (Mozart Platz) just to the northeast of the cathedral, ie. pretty much the opposite end of the old town from where we start. By the time we get there, the weather is starting to flurry with snow. Thankfully, the Information Centre has a roof - it also has lots of leaflets to add to Milena's growing stash: she already has an envelope-full, at least an inch thick. Finally, it offers to sell us a "Salzburg Card" - this is a true mooltipass, since it will let you into most of the major sites free, as well as acting as a transport pass. Single-entry is assured by having a little built-in chip and special reader/terminals at each tourist site: you can get it as a Swatch as well, though we opt for the more straight-forward and cheaper card

Outside, though not lying, it's still windy and snowing. Just along the street (ie. closest to us) is the Georg Trakl foundation (on Milla's list), but there's a sign there saying it's guided tours only. The next tour is at 14.00, so we hurry across the square (Residenz Platz) and into the cathedral (which, like Tourist Information, has a roof): the cathedral isn't actually covered by our Salzburg Cards, but that's okay since it's free (as long as you're immune to the emotional blackmail of the guy collecting donations at the door). The cathedral/Dom is pretty large but (apart from the decorated front) is plain and boring: it was bombed during WWII, and I don't know if it was any more interesting before that. The inside is better, impressive and baroque - there's a crypt downstairs which contains the tombs of generations of Price-Archbishops, Archbishops and Cardinals (there's a Schwarzenberg, complete with coat-of-arms, complete with raven-attacking-Turk). Equally interesting, there's a display about the various churches which have stood on this site: before the current Dom was a huge church, as big as the present one but at a slightly different angle. There's no additional information about, for example, its style or what happened to it (did it fall down? did someone steal it?).

We strike west, back towards Mozart's birthplace, passing the Franciscan Church on the way - a wonderful high medieval buildling, most reminiscent of Charlemagne's octagonal church in Aachen. It has towering, clean, early-Gothic lines and will be well-worth visiting later. Mozart's birthplace museum meanwhile turns out to contain not only the Mozart flat, but pretty much the rest of the building as well - other flats are given over to displays on 18th-century Salzburg, 18th-century fashion, a typical flat of the time, and so on. The actual flat comprises four residential/public rooms, a kitchen, and no discernible toilet: there are some period letters and books, and the violin that young Mozart learned to play on. It takes a while to go round, and we don't actually finish before we have to leave to catch the Trakl tour.

There's a woman at the Trakl Foundation, who greets us in a friendly fashion and then goes to get us "the money". "The money"? Obviously she's mistaken us for someone else, and unfortunately she seems to be expecting something in exchange for the forementioned money. Ah well. Once we've sorted out the confusion, she tells us that the Foundation is closed to tourists until next week - great. Instead we go along a couple of doors to one of Salzburg's many coffee shops, have two nice large cups of coffee and an excessively hot (and priced, though very nice) Apfelstrudel while we plan our next move. Frankly, the castle would be nice but, equally frankly, in this weather and with the funicular railway out of action (dunno why), I doubt I'm capable of getting up the hill.

Instead we hit St. Peter's Abbey, nestled at the foot of the hill: it has a graveyard and two churches (one small and old, one larger and baroque and with Michael Haydn inside) - the graveyard doesn't appear to have anyone particularly famous in it (we look). Just behind the Abbey, and free with our Salzburg Cards, are ancient Katakomben: actually, they're not that ancient, but they do date to when the Romano-Celtic town here was destroyed by invading Germanic barbarians - how ironic that it's now on the tourist trail. They're not conventional catacombs, inasmuch as they're half-way up the cliff - a few rather eerie caves with religious artefacts, walls to keep the weather out, and a quite depressing Latin inscription describing what happened when Odoacer arrived (yes, it was his lot of Germanic barbarians).

Just along from St. Peter's Abbey is St. Peter's Keller, a cave-come-pub which claims to date to 810 or thereabouts (which presumably means they had their millenial celebration while Beethoven was alive!): when we looked round it seemed mostly full of dead Christmas trees. Striking towards the river from there takes us directly to the Franciscan Church and the inside turns out to be (mostly) even better than the outside - the west end is a traditional nave, but the east end is a dazzlingly vertical, luminescent, truncated-octagon. From my standpoint it's easily the best church in Salzburg despite a.) they've built twee little baroque shrines in the bottom 10-15m of most of the niches, blocking up the windows to do it and b.) a much later baroque building actually protrudes into the north side of the church, presumably so local aristocracy could get to the church without going out in the rain, snow or horseshit. The generally excellent impression is heightened when someone start playing the organ while we're there - very Gothic.

Next up, and physically connected, is the Residenz: actually, in true medieval and baroque fashion, most of the buildings in Salzburg are pretty much physically connected (ground floor passages/arcades help you move around). The Dom has covered walkways connecting it to the buildings to the southwest and northwest (the Residenz), but otherwise is unusual in being surrounded by open space (the Kapitelplatz, Domplatz (more of a courtyard) and Residenzplatz: there's a little area at the back as well (east), but I don't think it has its own name). We enter the Residenz through a door in the corner of the inner courtyard, and climb up to floor of state rooms. Here, our Salzburg Cards not only get us free entry but free audioguides as well: it takes us about an hour to complete the circuit of various official and private rooms. They're pretty impressive for a place the size Salzburg is/was, and there's a definite Alexander the Great theme running through the ceilings. The oddest feature is the bannister on the stairs leading to the main hall - the balustrades are made of bell-metal and individually tuned, so that you could play it like a glockenspiel. Sadly, they were only tuned to a limited number of notes, so you could actually only play it like a 5-note glockenspiel - challenging, even for Mozart.

We leave the Residenz at 16.45 and head round to the Rupertinum - there's a large Mucha exhibition on there, and our cards let us in free: despite what we'd heard/seen (on the posters), the exhibition is open until 18.30 so we have (just) time to go round today. The exhibition turns out to be excellent - it has every Mucha picture I've ever seen as a print, some of his advertising work, lots of the Sarah Bernhardt posters, and a video (in English). We discover from the video that Prague is where Mucha's magnum opus, the Slav Epic, is on display; and that we should have looked inside the Municipal Hall, since he did good stuff there too. Ah well. On the top floor there are other pieces of modern art - Schiele (!), Klimt and so on: the abiding impression I am left with, however, is that Sarah Bernhardt should never have taken on the role of Hamlet.
As is becoming normal, they close the Rupertinum around us - at one point, it seems they've actually locked us in: but then we discover that the elevator landing has a side door as well. The staff let us out the back exit, since the front door is now locked, into the snow. Yes, it's been falling all afternoon and, while we were in the Rupertinum, has carpeted Salzburg.
We head back along pedestrianised Linzer Gasse (old Salzburg is mostly Gasses rather than Strasses), cutting north to the hostel, where we spend the rest of the evening in - looking out at the weather.

Like yesterday, this morning starts with coffee in the bar: downstairs we encounter Joe (Marnie's friend from Cesky K) - horrible though YOHO is, it's turning into Reunion Central. Milla has used up the shower tokens earlier, and now finishes getting ready and packing - I am banished downstairs, where I return the sheets and chat with Joe for a while. We eventually head out at 10.00, dump our bags in a locker at the station, and after a little confusion, work out how to catch an appropriate trolley-bus down to Mozart's residence. Being electronic, our cards are valid for 24 hours (not a calendar day) so they will still let us into places: amusingly, the first time you use the card, someone write the date/time on the card with a biro - presumably this is for the public transport part of the card, since they're not as high-tech.

Makartplatz, where Mozart chose to live, is quite upmarket but a little dull - the Holy Trinity church (nice enough) is at one end, which must have been handy: one end of the Regional Theatre is at the other end, which must have been even handier for Mozart. Inside, they've exchanged boring old low-tech audioguides for much more sophisticated and considerably less effective technology. Clusters of servers/transmitters around the ceilings of the place beam down a commentary supposedly appropriate to where you're standing in the room. Fairly clever, but downsides include a.) in larger rooms it doesn't work very well, b.) you start in the middle of the commentary (ie. wherever it's at when you enter the zone), and c.) it's continual, with no pause or rewind functions.

There are no original fittings (everything was sold against his debts), but there's a sizeable collection of manuscripts and letters, and one of Mozart's pianos (in the largest room, where he used to give private concerts). At the end, there's a film on his life and particularly the phenomenal amount of time he spent on tour: the multi-lingual soundtrack comes through the little handheld units, while the music comes through the speakers. We spend a final ten minutes in the gift shop, where they have Mozart postcards, musical boxes, perfume (?), erasers, ties, pens, lighters and so on ad infinitum. Oh, and after a day and a half in Salzburg I swear if I hear one more Mozart piece (particularly Einy Kleiny), I'm gonna hit someone.

We detour via the Loreto Chapel and Monastery (which sounded more interesting than they were), and a Post Office, back down Linzer Gasse and across the Salzach back into the old town. As there was yesterday, there's a market outside the completely unphotographable College Church (either it's too big, or the square's too small), where we buy a couple of the largest pretzels I've ever seen (at 2 euros each). One is covered in chocolate and the other, bizarrely, is made from pizza. We spend a while in the shop of the nearby Rupertinum (it was shut when we left yesterday), picking up Mucha postcards, and then head back to the station by trolley-bus: our cards have actually expired by this time, but hey - we're hardened criminals.

Things are tight for our chosen train and we split up - me to buy tickets and Milla to collect the bags - but to no avail. We're half-way up the escalator when we see our train pulling away from the platform opposite: pah. There's another train in half an hour and we kill the time by optimistically asking Salzburg Station Tourist Information if they have any information on hostels in Vienna. We're quite conscious of the fact that we're heading there on a Friday night with nowhere to stay yet.
Before we leave it, Salzburg is quite cool and relaxed and historic and scenic and gets 5/10 (even though we didn't get to see the castle): it probably deserved another half-day.
En route, we check our supply of flyers end come up with a couple of hostel options fairly close to the West Bahnhof. Also en route, incidentally, I spot a field of Highland Cattle - I guess they're fairly well-adapted to the Austrian climate. Other wildlife out the window includes wild deer, grazing. It's all very pastoral.

When we get into Vienna, the Station Tourist Information Office turns out not to be at all informative: they seem to be a hotel booking service only - I've never met anyone yet who books hotels from the station. Milla accosts some passing backpackers and picks up a map from them, but no useful information about hostels. We therefore make our way to our first choice, the Ruthensteiner, but it's full: as we stand at reception, we re-encounter a group of South Americans we met in, yep, Cesky Krumlov. They suggest Wombats as an alternative place to stay, but the receptionist has already phoned them on our behalf and they're also full. After more calls, she locates a double room for us at a hostel-come-hotel. It's quite far and it's quite expensive but after some discussion we go for it on the basis that it's Friday night and it's getting late. The receptionist gives us an excellent map (it includes full city, city centre and travel maps) and directions.
Unfortunately this evening is one of the few occasions when my map-reading lets us down - we follow Mariahilfer Strasse instead of Mariahilfer Gurtel and end up walking twice as far as we should have. Eventually we reach/find the hostel/hotel - a dull concrete '70s kind of building: we fill out the paperwork, fork out 47 euros (jeeze!), get to the room (which has its own shower and toilet, a table and chairs, furniture and shared balcony - and a buffet breakfast is included) and poor exhausted Milena collapses on the bed. We spend the evening playing with my alarm-clock/radio: we find some historical Romanian folk music and (briefly) the BBC, before settling on an Austrian popular channel (I hear Der Komissar in the original Falco version for the first time).
And then sleep, setting the radio alarm (rather than the bleeper which half-killed me in Cesky Krumlov) to make sure we catch the 07.00-09.00 breakfast.

We wake early (not quite as early as we intended, but still early) in Vienna: both Milena and I have bad memories of Vienna. She spent a month here, shortly after the fall of communism, living well below the poverty line - begging, sleeping under bridge, and so on. Also, Austria was the first country to recognise both Slovenia and Croatia as independent states which, in her view, makes them pretty much responsible for turning internal police actions into the Balkan wars. Rather more mundanely, I remember it as a place where everything was too expensive, especially McDonalds. Technically I suppose I was also below the poverty line - but I had an interrail ticket in my pocket, so I was able to leave after only one day.
Hitting the buffet breakfast downstairs, it scores highly in the league of breakfasts - various cereals; rolls and bread with jam/chocolate/cheese; coffee, tea and hot chocolate. The only other people in the dining room are a Finnish couple who checked in at the same time as us and who have the room next door. Both Milena and I have trousers with side-pockets, so we leave with a considerable stash of food for later in the day. Immediately after breakfast we (I) take the odd step of booking us in for another night, despite the cost: this is mainly on the basis that tonight is Saturday night (another busy one), and that we don't want to lug the bags around more than necessary (remembering the long walk here).

From the map, the closest major attraction is the Schonbrunn Palace, which I didn't see last time - it's a ten or fifteen minute walk away. This was the summer residence of the Habsburgs, affording them much more space for gardens/grounds than in the centre of Vienna. We approach from the east, past exceptionally dull outbuildings (largue baroque sheds) and nurseries for the gardens. Eventually we reach the large, open square before the main (back) door - like many other grand palaces of the period, this comprises a narrow central section flanked by two large symmetrial wings: the front facade is flat. Versailles is the obvious extreme version of this design.

Inside, we find a number of guided tours available, taking in different numbers and combinations of rooms. All the tours are pretty expensive, so we make enquiries about the "Vienna Card" which we're seen on flyers and which is hopefully like the Salzburg Card. Unfortunately, it turns out only to give a 10% discount on sites (so you'd have to use it a fuck of a lot to be worthwhile), and also there's nowhere here where we could buy one. We skip seeing the appartments (we'll see the ones in the Hofburg instead - they're bound to be better), use their toilets, and walk around the outside of the palace to the sprawling grounds. Formal gardens stretch away to a fountain/pond, from which you can climb up to a large monument on a hill which looks back to the palace (we don't - the hill looks a bit steep for unsteady me). Unfortunately the maze is closed for winter and the zoo (world's oldest, they claim) is quite expensive, although we would get a 20% discount if we had a Vienna Card.

Not unduly disappointed we wander through some more of the jogger-infested grounds back to a Budvar pub we spotted on the way in. En route we meet a couple of Australian girls from, yep, Cesky Krumlov. We watch locals in the pub/café over our Buds: midday cafés are a Viennese obsession - people come in alone or in groups, and make a coffee and cake last forever while they read newspapers, chat, or just watch other people. We have a city to see, though, so we finish our drinks with antisocial speed (half an hour) and hit the nearest metro station (Schonbrunn - should be easy to remember). The automatic ticket machines also dispense 24-hour travel passes, which over the U-Bahn, S-Bahn, trams and buses for an excellent 4.30 euros - four journeys and you've made your money back. We buy two (the machines takes note) and catch the first train into the centre.
Unsurprisingly, the layout of central Vienna hasn't changed since I was last here - a circular Ring road loops round three sides of the centre, and the north is bounded by the Danube Canal. All the sights are within a block of the Ring, except the Cathedral which is right in the centre. The underground stations pretty much follow the Ring as well, except for one at the Cathedral and two Line 3 stops, one on either side of the Cathedral. The U-Bahn network, incidentally, seems to be considerably more extensive than when I was last here. We pop up at Karlsplatz, next to the State Opera House, on the basis that it's next to Tourist Info which, in turn, is next to the palace complex of the Hofburg. Tourist Information unfortunately turns out to be useless - one of those commercial places which mainly takes hotel/concert/tour bookings rather than distributing free or cheap/subsidised information for tourists. We (Milena mostly) pick up some leaflets on exhibitions and concerts, and we head off into the Burggarten grounds. There are public toilets here which still work on old schilling coins - you have to buy the old coins from the attendant: ie. the old currency has effectively become a mere token (it was the same situation with the lockers and internet access at YOHO in Salzburg). I don't know what the situation will be, legally, when the schilling is officially withdrawn (in five days, I think).

The Hofburg palace complex is quite complex, inasmuch as it's a complex of palaces (and enclosed/open courtyards) rather than one complex palace. Over time the several early palaces (and church) built in a NW-SE axis were linked; then the bits were filled in to make one huge, sprawling and irregular palace with a main door facing SW and wide gardens all along the SW facade. Finally, the massive Neue Burg was built at right angles to this super-palace, dividing the gardens in two and rendering the old main entrance useless. The Neue Burg backs onto the Burggarten (also bounded by the butterfly house and restaurant parts of the Hofburg), and fronts onto the Heldenplatz (Heroes Square) which is now the focal part of the complex. The extension of Heldenplatz to the SW, incidentally, is flanked by the massive neoclassical blocks which house the Natural History and Art History Museums and ends with the recently made-over Museum Quarter building, another complex (of linked museums).

In the light rain/sleet (Milena has to help me put my hat on - a task almost impossible for a one-armed man), we walk around the Neue Burg to the Heldenplatz and then wander through some of the courtyards and passages of the Hofburg, looking for the Imperial Appartments. Despite lots of little maps, we fail to find the Imperial Appartments, but do find the Augustinian Church, one of the oldest parts of the complex. High and long and gothic, it's reminiscent of the Franciscan church in Salzburg, though it hasn't been spoiled by baroque additions: as in Salzburg, someone is playing (or practising) on the organ while we're there. We head out again and walk along the outside of the Hofburg, passing the Lipizzaner Museum and the Spanish Riding School en route. Eventually we come to Michaeler Platz, and the entrance to the Imperial Appartments (ie., by accident).

The entry ticket also includes admission to the Silberkammer on the ground floor - essentially the Imperial tableware - which sounds fairly small, quick and dull: so we decide to do that first. Well, the display is spread across seven "rooms" (each of which comprises up to three or four actual rooms) containing everything from the Imperial Jelly Moulds to bone china sets so fine that they were never used; from the Imperial Picnic Set to the plates used in the Hofburg staff canteen. The complete interdependence between the Habsburg family and the state is evident everywhere - special canteen sets for the army on maneuovres, for example, had to be supplied from the Imperial collection. And all the gold and silver pieces are comparatively recent (less than 200 years old), because the original sets were melted down to pay for the Napoleonic Wars. Even for me (we have a monarchy of sorts), the concept of taxes going directly to a family and that family having to pay for the civil service, armies and wars, and so on is a bizarre and alien concept. You can kind of get your mind around it for small city-states (as in the Holy Roman Empire, or pre-Garibaldi Italy), but not for an Empire the size of Austria-Hungary. Milena's main reaction is one of outrage - she maintains that they deserve to have been killed (harking back to how the Serbs started WWI).

After the Silberkammer we need a break, and stop in the little overpriced café (which has disappointing cutlery and crockery) before pressing on up the stairs to the Imperial Appartments. Half-way up there is a strategically positioned poster which informs us post factum that our entry ticket entitles us to a discount at the café (which would have made it a little less overpriced). No audioguides for this tour, but plenty of in-room displays: no Alexander the Great theme, either. Frankly, I find most tours of lavishly-decorated rooms really boring and this one's not much different except that some of the rooms are pretty large and others have lots of gold. More interesting is the background information on the family, mostly the final generation since the rooms are pretty much preserved as they left them. The final ruling generation, of course, were the terribly regal Franz-Josef and his slightly-whacko wife Elisabeth ("Sisi", still much loved - especially in Hungary). Sisi, whose hair reached to the floor when she didn't have it tied back/up, had a gymnasium kitted out in her dressing room - there are still two rings hanging from the top of one of the doorframes: the most bizarre sight in this baroque and stately palace. She, like the heir apparent Franz-Ferdinand, ended up being assassinated - she also had an exceedingly thin waist.

As is by now traditional, we're the last ones out at closing time: the staff hae to specifically come and look for us to tell us that they're now closed. It's not yet dark, so we take a wander up to the Scottish Abbey and Church (Schottenstift and Schottenkirche), via the Minorite (that's not Minority) Church. The Abbey complex is fairly dull, though old, and the church is nothing special: its most interesting feature is probably a girl crying and wailing inside - she has a tale of poverty to go with her tears, and is looking for money to feed the baby. Largely on the basis that a.) there's no sign of any baby, b.) no-one can genuinely cry for that long, and c.) she has a mobile phone, we leave her in the same financial situation as we found her in.

We head back to the hostel/hotel (it's dark by now), where we have something to eat (mainly from this morning's supplies) and then head our again to see the beautiful blue Danube. Actually, we hit the Danube Canal first at Schwedenplatz, which turns out to be a fairly dodgy area on the border of nightclubland. We walk a couple of blocks along the concrete-lined canal, and then catch another metro train out towards the Danube proper: I was in favour of checking out the Danube Island stop - a largely unlit, bleak and remote island - but Milena thinks this would be too dodgy, especially since I only have one arm. We get off one stop before the river instead, and then walk down to the shore.
The Danube itself is as dull and concrete as I remember it - a few cargo barges drift past in the night, and there are views to industrial and commercial areas on the other bank. Overlooking the river, though, and very impressively spot-lit is the Church of St. Francis of Assisi. Dating to the turn of last century, it's all in brick, but it's also in irregular pseudo-Byzantine semi-circles, and mixes impressive and cosy - an odd mix. It seems to have gone under three names, and has something to do with Empress "Sisi" (it was finished after she was killed, so possibly it was dedicated to her memory): our German isn't up to fully decoding the long notice outside the door. Milena loves the church, and we resolve to return tomorrow for a daylight photo of it.

We return to the hostel, but not directly: halfway between the Langenfeld metro stop and the hostel, there's a little Austrian-Turkish diner-come-café and it's still open at 23.45 and showing no sign of closing soon. We order two large mochas, a biscuit-cake (for me) and something more savoury for Milla. Unfortunately the mochas come Turkish-style: straight and strong, which is great, but we probably should have avoided large ones. They also come with a glass of water, as in Greece and Turkey. I put five or six sugars in mine (Milena about three times that) and we slowly sip our way through them.
We leave after an hour, both light-headed, laughing and not walking straight: yes, it seems we're stoned on caffeine. I managed to finish mine (large teacup-sized), Milena managed to get half-way down, but remarkably we both managed to fall asleep fairly quickly.

Not only did we fall asleep, but we also woke up alive and well after last night's killer coffee: admittedly, we're not the first at breakfast, but we do manage to increase our secret stash of pre-packaged foodstuffs. We book in for one more night (we can't be bothered moving for just one night, even to save 10 euros) and the receptionist (who probably thought we were seriously drunk last night) warns that the place will fill with children tomorrow morning - could we manage to get out as early as we can, since they need all the rooms?
She's probably referring to the fact that it's after check-out time when we finally leave the hostel today. Ah well.

Our first port of call is St. Francis' Church down by the Danube again, for a photo - tragically the light is completely behind the church, so unless I had a flash the size of a lighthouse, the whole building would just come outlike a dark shadow. We look inside, but it's a little disappointingly bland (and, being Sunday, full of people singing and chanting and praying and other church stuff), so we decide to strike out for Vienna's cemeteries instead. First up is the St. Marx Cemetery which used to be (or possibly incorporates) the Biedermeier Cemetery - this is where they chucked Mozart into an unmarked grave after he died in debt. I believe the story has it that they later identified the location by means of his dog, which did a sort of Biedermeier's Bobby act. Oh, and before anyone asks, I'd never heard of St. Marx and I don't know if he/she was any relation. We get off at the Simmering metro stop, which looks closest on the map, and head north towards the cemetery. After a few blocks we can see the cemetery to our left beyond, of all things, a construction equipment rental yard full of JLGs - and a railway line. We have to continue back towards the city centre for another five minutes before finally coming to a rail crossing where we can double-back to the cemetery.

Having learned from our experience in Prague, we look round for a plan of some sort - there's one just inside the gate, which lists a hundred or so worthies, categorised by profession. Most of the graves are in regular plots but there's a big blank area in the middle which seems to contain only Mozart's - we guess that would be the pauper's section. We locate it without difficulty (St. Marx's isn't a huge cemetery) - a little dignified marble memorial with a few flowers and a couple of burning oil candles. There's a raised grave-shaped mound stretching out from the little monument: of course, thinking about it, if they were relying on a single-point dog, then WA's body could actually have extended from that point in any direction - so he's probably under the path. After paying our respects, we proceed to the Balkan corner of Romanian, Serb, etc. graves - there's one for Alex Karaghiorghevic, possibly ex-Serb assassinated king or (more likely, considering) relative with the same name.

Next stop, another graveyard - this time the Zentral Cemetery which, frankly, is about as Zentral to Vienna as Bratislava is. We decide not to retrace our route from St. Marx's and, fortunately, find an underpass to cross the railway (otherwise we'd have looked really stupid). From the main Simmering road, it's a straight tram route down - and this is a much larger cemetery: it covers three tram stops along one side! Unfortunately, there's no map or index visible anywhere so instead we follow the crowd: equally unfortunately, the "crowd" seems to be visiting dead relatives. After ten minutes, we strike across to the central church/chapel (it's a bit huge to be a "chapel") in the hope that there might be a map there - no such luck, so instead we head back towards to main entrance with the assumption that we've missed something there (a gift shop, possible): we pass Schoenberg's grave en route, but we're hunting for bigger fish.

About halfway between the chapel and the main gate (ie. on the main boulevard) we spot it - actually, what we spot is a tourists, and the "tourists" is mainly a large group of oriental girls (Korean? Japanese?) with cameras. They're clambering over and around a cluster of large memorials and graves, central to which is an OTT Mozart one - Mozart (or at least his monument) is ringed by Beethoven, Schubert, Haydn, Strauss, Brahms, etc. If they're actually here, then they must be really pissed off at Mozart's place of honour - particularly since he's not really there. All the Asians have brought flowers from somewhere (there were stalls on the way in) and almost without exception, Mozart's the one who gets them. We spend a little time there, and at the little Orthodox chapel near the gate (with secluded graveyard), but my only other observation is that one of Beethoven's flower holders (they all have them) has been knocked squint. The ironic result is that it looked uncannily like an ear-trumpet coming out the ground.

It's well after midday by the time we head back in towards the centre, buying new 24-hour travel passes like the law-abiding tourists we are. Our destination is the Stephansdom (St. Stephan's Cathedral), the large Gothic cathedral (possible the most easterly in Europe) with the zig-zag patterned roof which lies right at the centre of Vienna and appears on most of the postcards. Distinctive features, apart from the roof, are the two flanking towers half-way along, both of which you can ascend. Even though the north (bell) tower has an elevator I don't feel up to the either, especially since outside is cold and very windy, even at ground level. Inside is quite busy (it's Sunday after all) and smells of wax from all the candles. Outside it's quite darkened stone, but has been partially cleaned (the back), which gives an oddly disjointed look to the facade. It's a bit big for a photo, and the one more feasible angle is largely obscured by a gathering of American Indians doing something ethnic (proving they're Indians) and selling stuff (proving they're American).

Well, I've spent the last four or five hours shuttling round churches and cemeteries - a role normally associated with a two-armed traveller (to paraphrase Peter Cook - my right arm, I like) - so now I need to sit down, rest and have something to eat. There's a Subway just up the street from the Dom, one of the first I've seen in Europe, so we go in there: it's bizarrely tacky and plasticky compared with . . . well, everything else in Vienna. It's also virtually empty and the food's almost lethally bland, but at least it has seats and toilets.

After our rest we strike back towards the Ring, stopping briefly at the pretty, round and baroque St. Peter's Church. We come out at the strikingly gothic Votivkirche, the most impressive church on the Ring - actually about the only church on the Ring, but it would be impressive in most company. We potter south, past the dull and blocky University buildings and along the side of the Rathaus park to the Rathaus, with its memorable spire and gothic finish - a large cuboid, the front is easily the most impressive side - the rest of the building just looks like an ornate office building (which is exactly what it is). Just outside the Rathaus there's an open-air ice rink and down the slope there's a huge screen showing Olympic coverage: no-one is watching, but that may be more to do with the fact it's showing repeats (possibly because of the time difference) rather than from a lack of interest. Because of it's No. 1 Tourist Attraction, the Austrian Alps, Austria is a major player when it comes to the Winter Olympics - this presumably helps them feel good about their less-impressive performance in most real sports (of the running, jumping and throwing things varieties). Wish the UK had Alps . . .

Facing the Rathaus across the ice rink and Olympic screen is the uninspired National Theatre: we circle past it, as it starts to rain, towards the Parliament building. Boringly new (well, neo-Classical, which I suppose is better than the various communist parliaments we've seen), it's noteable only for having a house balanced on the roof. This is presumably part of the construction work that's going on, rather than the President's official residence (for example). It's interesting to contrast the massive Hofburg (from the days of the Empire) with the comparatively tiny Parliament: you can see one from the other, across the Volksgarten and Heldenplatz.

Milena takes charge of our expedition now, striking out towards Hundertwasserhaus, a residential block designed by the architect Hundertwasser, which was one of her favourite buildings in Vienna when she was last here. Me? I don't know it at all, so it post-dates my visit. Our only problem is that she doesn't know where it is: she knows where she thinks it is and we strike SE past Karlsplatz (dominated by Karlskirche, Vienna's baroque counterpart to the Gothic Stephansdom) into a warren of badly-lit backstreets around the Technical College. Hundertwassehaus is elusive - more so because the locals we stop and ask don't seem to believe it's anywhere near here. It's dark night by now, and we return to the hostel/hotel where a little research reveals that the locals are right - it isn't anywhere near there.

We set out one last time and locate the Hundertwasserhaus, a wonderfully pseudo-random and brightly-coloured jumble of a block with indents and outdents, Dali-esque angled supports, trees growing from vantage points half-way up, irregular curving walls and so on. There's a shopping arcade opposite, in the same style, and photos of some of Hundertwasser's other buildings (actually disappointing because they're all much the same). There's also a little sign from the residents telling touists to piss off, because they have to live here. To round off the evening, after almost losing the metro station, we swing out to the Danube-side Francis of Assisi church for the third time and finally take a long-exposure shot - hopefully it'll come out not too bad (my one-armed photos have a tendency to be a bit squint and/or fuzzy). We stop for a kebab in this predominantly immigrant area (both of us have observed a lot more non-Germanics, ie. Gypsies and Turks, than during our last visits), and then it's back to the hostel for our last night in Vienna.