The Great Affair: Vienna Waits For You #7: Strauss, Suspense and Sustenance

Another early start (though the workmen had mysteriously disappeared), with the first of Aaron’s papers at 8.30 am. We congregated at breakfast again and met in the Mind, Society and Tradition seminar, which was generally okay. I then decided to hit the Strauss Haus (very fun to say) before any relevant afternoon sessions. I needed, therefore, to lunch early, so I went back to the international food stands by the Rathaus.

I tried the Japanese stall this time; chicken with rice and mixed vegetables. It was very fresh. It was lovely to have the rice, not having had any rice on the trip and as I am a regular consumer of this grain, I missed it. The vegetables were the best part, all courgette-y and beansprout-y (I may just have been hungry when I wrote up this journal entry). I enjoyed the shade for a while as I ate and savoured, though I decided that on balance I preferred the Chinese stall with the chow mein and duck.

Yeah, and about the duck - you're better off not knowing.

Determined to make the most of the remaining time, I hopped on the no.2 tram and took the long way round the Ringstrasse to the Schwedenplatz U-Bahn, from whence it was but a short hop to the relevant station. I emerged without a clear sense of direction, and it took a few minutes of walking up and down the street, Praterstrasse, before I was sure which way was which. Once oriented, I aimed for the museum and kept walking. Once it had struck me that I may have gone too far, I checked the map again, and sure enough I had passed the location. I turned around and kept going the other way until fairly confident that I must have passed it again. I turned a full 360°.
“Huh,” I said to myself, and got the guidebook out again. It have me an address – the first floor of no.54 – and when I looked up I found myself in front of no.52. No sign of Strauss. Then I heard a voice from behind me.
“You search Johann Strauss?”
Now, there’s a question you don’t get asked every day, but why not? I confirmed.
“He is next door.”
With confirmation of Strauss’s existence, if not whether or not he was at home, I marched next door with renewed confidence, straight to the door of the Praterstrasse McDonalds. Appalled and culturally confused, I checked again, and found that the door to the first floor was along an alley. I went in and upstairs. There was indeed a glass plaque with a Wien Museums logo on it, but the door to the Strauss Haus was firmly closed. It turned out that it was closed until 2, and only open from 2-6, despite the claims of the guidebook. I decided not to stick around since it was only 12.15, but took a picture so that I could at least show I had found the place. This would be at least what Strauss would have seen when he forgot his keys.

Back into the U-Bahn I went, and all the way to MuseumsQuartier. I heard that the Leopold Museum had a good selection of Klimt and fin-de-siécle and Secessionist works, as well as the world’s largest collection of Egon Schiele paintings, which I was keen to investigate. MQ is a large courtyard around which several different art collections are gathered. I found the ticket office in the shop. Then I made a beeline for the great white cube of the Leopold Museum.

Since my feet were starting to bother me again, I decided to be sensible and start with the Klimt (clearly I am not in a high-risk group for Klimt-fatigue). The top floor is a treasure-trove – Munch, Gerstl, Schiele and, of course, Klimt. I spent a long time investigating. My favourite paintings of those that were new to me were Emil Nolde’s Flower Garden, Xenia Ender’s Composition 1918, and – naturally – another St Margaret and the Dragon, this time by Aton Faislauer and in some particularly maritime tones.

The floor down from that had a large exhibition of Adolf Hölzel, who was interested in colour, and moved from Impressionism to abstraction. Finally he discovered pastels and began to design stained glass. I was terribly excited by it all, as I have seen very little pastel work by major artists and it’s my favourite medium, and it was also encouraging that his style was similar to mine. Maybe they would give me a gallery!

I hit the shop, and was very restrained, all things considered, though I did spend a bit on some extortionate postcards and a new pen, as my excessive journalling was taking its toll on my trusty two-Bics. Then, of course, I had to check out the other shop of the way back from the WC.
I found a line of kids’ clothes called “made with love” that made me laugh, due to the cake incident. Also the metallic gnomes in various colours – no black, sadly, but I selected an appealingly shiny red for the Black Room, since Meg bought us a gnome calendar earlier this year.

I still had some time before the Third Man, and at MQ they had large concrete cuboids with a hollow in which to lounge. And lounge I did, under the blinding sky. I even dozed off, clutching my bag tightly. I left, however, when I saw unfriendly dark grey clouds charging in over the modern art museum (also dark grey), and made my merry way to the familiar BurgKino for the Third Man. Definitely an essential experience.

Afterwards I resolved to take a photo of the marquee, but when I got out there – while the Third Man was still up there – there was a man up a ladder changing the listings.

The effect was humorous, and also reminded me of a short-lived period of gainful employment when I did that job at our local cinema, advertising films such as “Dune” and “ET” before giving up when “The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood” was released. The digital age was coming; I would have soon been obsolete anyway.

I went back to the hotel, and had hardly put my bag down when we decided to head down towards the film fest. Keith Jarrett’s Tokyo concert was promised – one I hadn’t encountered.

There were no tables apparent – it looked like the jazz fans had turned out in force – so we separated and agreed to meet on the other side of the stalls, by a fountain. There still weren’t any tables, but we all squeezed onto a bench with our food – and by the way, it’s hard to eat chow mein with chopsticks while sitting on a bench, balancing a hot plate on your palm.

An appealingly half-hearted game of Truth-or-Dare later (the best kind, in my opinion), we decided to investigate the gelato stand – a bit pricier than the one opposite our hotel, but excellent. Strawberry tasted like strawberry, in this time when it’s unusual that actual strawberries taste of strawberry.

We wandered through the park and around Votivkirche, which was very pretty with the spire lit up from within.