Viennese whirlings

We had selected Bratislava as a base, partly so that we could get easily to Vienna while paying Slovakian, rather than Austrian prices. So on Saturday we headed off to Vienna, catching the bus just down the road from the apartment, which took about an hour, and then the metro into the centre of the city. Vienna really does live up to all the cliches - coffee, cakes, opera, the Hapsburgs, horse-drawn carts: you're bombarded with the lot as soon as you arrive. We emerged from the underground into Stephansplatz - the heart of the city, and marvelled at the huge Gothic cathedral which dominates the square. A quick trip to the tourist office, and we were sipping (very expensive) coffee in the shade while browsing the information leaflets and deciding what to do. The unmissable place seemed to be the Hofburg, the imperial palaces which are now a complex of museums and galleries, so we wandered in that direction, pottering through its stately gardens full of people lying in the hot sunshine, children playing games, and a myriad of ice cream stalls. The best bet seemed to be a combi-ticket for a couple of galleries, so we all bought one and headed to the Treasury of the Hapsburgs. This is best described as a banquet of jewels, from which you emerge completely drunk on colour and blinking in the sunshine. Nikita had her eye on a rather nice sword (presumably to slay any dragons which might be lurking in the shadows), while Rob revealed a latent ambition to be a royal herald, complete with a bejewlled tabard.

A quick sandwich and a much needed cold drink, and then the party split for the afternoon to explore different parts of Vienna. Nikita, Keira, Becky and I went on a bit of a park crawl - wandering through four of the city's parks, and ending up in the Stadtpark which is beautiful, full of flowers and families enjoying the sunny Saturday afternoon. We basked for a while in the sunshine, before returning to the centre of town to meet Rob and Sarah at the Hotel Sacher for authentic Sachertorte and tea with real milk: Sarah's and my first proper cup of tea since leaving England. We were rather afraid we wouldn't like it, as we've got so used to drinking black tea, but you'll be relieved to hear this was not the case! Over our terribly civilised afternoon tea, we discussed our impressions of the city, and agreed with Rob's comment (which I think he may have plagiarised from Salim) that it feels like the capital of an empire, not the capital of Austria. In the context of the country, it feels ludicrously overblown - you really have to get into the 16th century groove....

Full of cake, we tottered back to the bus stop and got back to the flat in Bratislava in time to cook another veggie curry with all the left over vegetables and more wine. The next morning was a very early start, as we wanted to make Palm Sunday High Mass in St Stephen's Cathedral. Thanks to everyone's Herculean efforts in getting out of bed, we arrived with enough time to arm ourselves with pussy willow branches, which are used here instead of palms. The Mass was amazing, with a packed cathedral, an impressive procession of clergy, and a wonderful choir who sang some lovely motets as well as the Bruckner Mass setting. The singing of the passion was especially good - the big German bass singing "Mein Gott, mein Gott, warum hast du mich verlassen?" sent shivers down the spine.

After Mass it was time for a much needed coffee and panini in a nearby cafe, and we then walked back to the Hofburg to the National Art Gallery (via an irresistible ice-cream shop which served up the most delicious "Mozart" ice-cream. Yes, I know it's horrible touristy, but the combination of marzipan and chocolate ice-cream was just too good to miss.....) The Art Gallery was overwhelmingly packed with a great selection of international art, including some wonderful Breughels and a few Carravaggios. A few hours later, we left feeling very square eyed and in need of a sit down. Which was just as well, as we then had to sit for an hour and a half in a queue for standing seats (surely a contradiction in terms?) at the Opera House. Lured by the promise of tickets for only 4 euros, we were stuck in a darkened stuffy corridor for what seemed like an age, while a rather alarming man in a gilt edged uniform patrolled up and down and told us that if we moved at all, we would lose our places in the queue. Once the queue finally got moving, we were shepherded through several different spot checks, stood in a couple more random queues, apparently for no reason at all, and physically moved around by the now female but equally alarming woman manning the queue, to ensure that we were standing two by two shoulder to shoulder to enter the Opera House. When we finally got in with very frayed tempers on all sides, we were informed that we could mark our places by tying on to the railings, either a scarf or a ribbon. No other item of fabric was apparently appropriate. It being a boiling hot day, we didn't really have many scarves between us, and none of us are in the habit of carrying around lengths of ribbon. So we had to stay in our places for the remaining half hour before the opera began to make sure that the hard earned spots weren't lost. To add insult to injury, the third alarming person in charge of queueing chose this moment to inform us that we weren't allowed bags inside the Opera House, meaning that we would have to go back to the beginning of the queue and do the whole bally thing again. The only possible response to tyranny being subterfuge, we all united by sitting on our bags to hide them, denied all knowledge of suspicious bulges and felt very like oppressed peasants.

It has to be said however, that we had a fabulous view and very much enjoyed the opera. It was L'Elisir D'Amore by Donizetti which is a very enjoyable farce, involving a foolish peasant who is conned into buying wine which he thinks is a love potion which will make the beautiful local land lady fall in love with him...you get the general idea. The singers were great, although the music wasn't much to write home about until the second half, which included the beautiful aria Una Furtiva Lacrima. The brilliant tenor performing it was just unbelievably good. Keira and I were both in tears, and the audience clapped and shouted so much that he had to perform it again (to the surprise of the soprano lead who came on to continue the opera and had to make a precipitate exit). After the second time, he had a standing ovation from the entire house. Unforgettable. I have definitely been converted to tenors. Go and look up the aria now - you won't be disappointed.

It was a very late ending to the day, as we had to wait nearly two hours for a bus back to Bratislava in the bus station God forgot in the less than lovely suburbs of Vienna. Finally arriving at the flat around 2, we crashed out in bed. A weekend of non-stop culture and luxury can be terribly exhausting, darling.