The windy city

3 July 2007

I just blew in from the windy city. Not Chicago. Vienna. I’ve been back more than a week, catching up on work, doing more work, staying up too late, and then doing some more work.

My parents were kind enough to take me and Suzy to the airport two Thursdays ago. Early in the morning. Mum then had to go to work a few hours later, but managed a quick catnap when she got back from Stansted with Dad before she had to get up again.

We’d checked in online and so headed straight to security brandishing our little bags of liquids for inspection. Through there no problem. Bags x-rayed. Again, nothing untoward. Hurrah! The next step was the shoe x-ray … which for some reason was voluntary. We weren’t corralled into either of the two lines queued up to have their taste in shoes examined, but were free to walk straight past along with a lot of other people. Why? We do not know. Perhaps we were wearing particularly trustworthy-looking shoes.

The flight was fine. I saw a very large expanse of green England out of the window which would possibly have made a good photograph, but that would have involved fighting my camera out of my bag and I was, well, trying to be asleep. Close your eyes, imagine being very high up and looking at a lot of green. There. That’s what you missed. Now you can leave me a nice comment about my mad photography skillz anyway.

We landed in Bratislava and found our Terravision bus (I’ve just got why they call them that. Sharp as a tack, me.) and set off on our way to Vienna. At the border a guard with a large weapon came and gave us the once over. We had boring old European passports to show, but the Japanese Buddhist monks who were also on board with us had far more exciting piles of documents to brandish. But for the fact that the monk in front of us seemed to be having problems with a terribly itchy shaven head, I’d have converted right there and then just for the stationery.

In Vienna, we were dumped on the street and left to find our own way. We wandered off, having absolutely no idea where we were going. The parked cars we were heading towards turned out not to be a taxi rank though and so we went into a travel centre, where Suzy asked about taxis. One was duly ordered for us and soon arrived to take us to our hotel.

We practised our German on the driver – even I managed some chat (which started with me telling him I’d rather he didn’t smoke) and my self-confidence shot up as I managed to Say Things In German Without Fucking It Up. And Suzy’s right: taxi drivers are good to talk to.

Arriving at our swanky hotel we checked in and we went up the sixth floor. We had a smart room with two beds, einem großen Schreibtisch and a mini bar full of overpriced items. Directly outside our window the Union Jack was fluttering in the breeze, as if it had been raised in our honour. The television was on, welcoming us with a personalised Teletext message. Nice touch guys, but I’m still not going to give you my firstborn in exchange for a packet of peanuts.

After a nap we ventured out into the city, clutching our little maps. The trouble with city maps is that you can’t tell what scale everything is very easily. Yes, I know there’s that 200m:2cm thing up in the corner, but I’m a girl and have no sense of distance. Leave me alone. I still say you can’t look at a city map and know whether you’re going to make it to the end of what looks like a short street before the sun sets.

There had been some rain earlier in the day and the sky was cloudy, but it didn’t look too ominous. We went into a shop for Suzy to buy some ice tea and when we came out just a minute later the sky was dark and the wind was suddenly up. We walked on and rain began to spit down on us and the gusts continued to get stronger, whipping grit against our faces and into our eyes. Even with my hat pulled down low I was still making my way along the street with my eyes screwed almost shut.

Near the Volkstheater we spied a restaurant and staggered across the road to shelter within its walls and have something to eat. Eating our floppy pizza we watched rain pour down outside and listened to the wind blowing. A few emergency vehicles went past, sirens blaring. We later found out that three people died in the storm that day. Eventually everything had calmed sufficiently that we paid for our meal and headed outside to go back to the hotel. It was still raining and leaves and small branches littered the street.

Later that evening we walked down the road to the station to buy the Salzburger Nachrichten for its supplement about Hubert’s tour. Several clay tiles lay broken into dangerous sharp fragments across the pavement, having fallen from several storeys above during the storm. It really gave us the heebie jeebies to think what injury they could have caused had anyone been beneath them when they came down.

The sky was now tranquil again and the setting sun threw beautiful colours into the clouds above us. Paper and snacks in hand we trudged back to the hotel, stopping once more to stare at the smashed tiles. With big plans for the next day we made sure we didn’t head to bed too late … and when I came to undress to get into my pyjamas I found that my bra was full of grit.

Click for the set

Posted in: friends, travels, weather

Comments

2 Responses to “The windy city”

dreamdust » Dress code: casual
12th August 2007 @ 2:58 pm

[...] appointment to see Mr Knee Man, set first of all for June (sorry dude, I’m going to be in Vienna) and then moved to 9th August. Expecting another long wait in the waiting room I took my book with [...]
A sweet gift : dreamdust
6th November 2010 @ 1:03 pm

[...] I was looking at some mementos and found that the map of Vienna Suzy and I had used on our trip in 2007 has a big advert for Manner Neapolitaner on the [...]