Having found the correct Tabak, and, in the end, done most of the eventual transaction in English, we got the tram, then I headed back to the pension. I napped and read several chapters of the new (and last! *sniff*) Harry Potter before the afternoon’s conferencing began.
Then 1.30 brought a Mary Douglas fest! It was just sad that Mary Douglas couldn’t give the final paper. One of her former students, also presenting in the session, gave an extra fifteen minute presentation, “Remembering Mary Douglas” with memories of his studies with her and her contribution to scholarship. As the papers continued into late afternoon, my brain began to work again, fortified by the combination of rest and new stimulation, and I remembered why I love my topic and that I can actually be passionate about socio-historical stuff. Yay!
The less scholastically-committed (given that some of those who had arrived late the night before had started at 8.30 am and were threatening to continue to 9pm) among us gathered at the hotel and discussed whether to head out for food or to wait. We resolved to wait until we were hungry, then resort to the biblical principle of “you snooze, you lose” – and it is so biblical. Ask Sisera. Nod off at an inopportune moment, and what do you get? An irate woman who’s handy with a tent peg.
In the end, Meg, her mother and Michael accompanied me downstairs to the restaurant next door. Michael was kind enough to request three English menus and one German for me (very funny), while I tried to explain in German that really, English worked quite well for me. Needless to say, I ended up with a German menu anyway, which I quickly gave up trying to decipher and tried to sneak a peek at the English (offered to me upside down – I am sorely tried!). The Rameys ordered goulash (“the best goulash in Vienna,” we were told, at least according to the newspapers) and Michael and I ordered a chicken, bacon and chips combo, in a weird sort of two-sides-of-the-table main course standoff. The combo came with some sour cream and excellent chilli sauce. While we waited we played “Two truths and a lie”, with varying degrees of success, and as a memo to me, I need to change my lie, since people keep guessing right, but not for the right reasons. I think I’m too gullible to play it well, sadly. We debated dessert. The rather dour waitress had a great sales pitch, a la the goulash – “the best apfelstrudel in Vienna!” – but we decided to settle for some more water. She finally smiled as she brandished the jug. “The best in Vienna!”
Sleep was welcome, but didn't come until my Harry Potter book was devoured. I was woken at 6.20 by work going on on the scaffolding right outside the window. WHY? I staggered into the shower and was still slightly dazed at breakfast, which is why, upon seeing fellow St Mary’s student Daniel (living in Paris for the summer) sitting in the breakfast room, I did not greet him with, “Why, Daniel, what a lovely surprise! When did you arrive?” but with a grunted approximation of, “What are you doing here?” Thankfully, these people are used to me.
Meg’s paper was first, and went wonderfully. Afterwards, some poking around the university revealed a courtyard stuffed with significant Viennese academics, from the obscure but influential to celebrity scholars like Freud – in bust form, of course.
My second session of the day sounded good but was disappointing, after which I wandered into the Innere Stadt some time prior to the arranged rendezvous at Café Central, a fin-de-siécle hangout for great literary figures (Peter Altenberg), artists and architects (Adolf Loos) and political and intellectual legends, assorted (Trotsky).
I returned to Minoritenkirche as promised, and found a light gothic interior that I liked very much.
Except for one thing. There was a remarkably large replica mosaic of da Vinci’s Last Supper on one wall of the sanctuary.
I admit that the craftsmanship was fairly impressive, so this was not in itself all that tacky. What pushed it over the cliff of good taste was the metre you put fifty cents in, in return for about a minute and a half of really bright fluorescent light. That is just tacky.I located the café, which was easily done. I had a good 45 minutes to go, however, so I continued across the Innere Stadt to Kirche Am Hof, which was, naturally closed with building work going on all around it. I was slightly concerned by the multiple fire engines until I remembered that the central fire station had a museum around there. Since the church was a non-starter, I continued to Judenplatz, the nerve centre of Vienna’s influential Jewish population until WWII.
Now it’s a very pretty but quiet square, the site of the Jewish Museum, a statue of Lessing (erected in 1935, destroyed by the Nazis but replaced by the artist following the war), and the Holocaust Memorial, a sombre white library with the names of the concentration and extermination camps around the base.
I walked back to the Café Central, and a complex series of misunderstandings eventually led us inside. I understood instantly why Vienna’s great intellectuals would spend their days here. It is a huge café, with lots of space and wide booths, but the small table and the vaulted ceiling made it feel warren-like.
The colours were gorgeous and the food reassuringly expensive – just what you need to feel sophisticated. The booths were marked with the names of their regular inhabitants, and we ended up in architect Adolf Loos’ booth. I wondered what he thought of all the ornamentation!
We both had a very good potato soup with bacon and mushroom – it was filling. I spotted the papier-mâché Peter Altenberg sitting at his table by the door.
I trudged back for the afternoon papers. There was one on the sabbath that I had fun mentally interacting with! Yay! Brain still worked. Better than before I left, too. Though that is not hard. Then there was one on Jesus and Hell, and I went back to the hotel for a rest. Aaron said, “So you had been through hell, and needed to lie down.” Pretty much.
One quality nap later, we all walked back down to the Rathaus Film Festival.
We traipsed back, moderately zonked.
One quality nap later, we all walked back down to the Rathaus Film Festival.
During the summer when the opera and ballet are closed, they show concerts, operas and ballets on a large screen on the front of the city hall. They were showing Manon. Meanwhile, we investigated the international food stands that were an equally enjoyable part of the festival, and parked ourselves at a long table. I had some chow mein with beautifully cooked sliced duck, and there was a truly international selection on the table by the time we were all seated. List-related games ensued – my favourites – like “list the five countries you have not yet been to that you most want to visit”, and we shared hilarious if occasionally hair-raising stories. For the record, my five countries were Spain, Poland, Morocco, Vietnam and India.
I decided to get another drink, Aaron came with me, and we both returned with crepes. I maintain that he is the bad influence. Mine had melted toblerone. Mmm. I failed to convince Aaron that his raspberry pancake with ice cream was the menu item entitled “Schinken, Käse und Champignon” (ham, cheese and mushroom). Sigh. Another foiled prank.
I decided to get another drink, Aaron came with me, and we both returned with crepes. I maintain that he is the bad influence. Mine had melted toblerone. Mmm. I failed to convince Aaron that his raspberry pancake with ice cream was the menu item entitled “Schinken, Käse und Champignon” (ham, cheese and mushroom). Sigh. Another foiled prank.
We traipsed back, moderately zonked.
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