Wien   Don't make out that you don't know that Vienna, to me the Queen of Central Europe, is Wien (VEEN). If you recognize city names in hamburger and frankfurter, than you know that a wiener is a Vienna sausage, also known as a cocktail sausage, that little thing you get in a pig-in-a-blanket. (By the way, I just learned while browsing in a bookstore in Wien that the frankfurter was invented in Wien by a man who named it after his home town, Frankfurt. Go figure. Wien wins again.) You also know that a breaded veal cutlet is called a Wiener Schnitzel, literally, a Viennese cutlet. So there.

[Two side comments regarding the above points: We found when we were in Spain, that a breaded veal cutlet is called a milanesa, a Milanese, in other words from Milan. But Bev and I were delighted to find one Spanish restaurant where the menu writer wanted to cover all bases. He called his a "milanesa a la Viena". That's priceless. A "Milanese, Vienna style", or better yet, a "Viennese Milanese".

Back to sausages--this just occurred to me while we were in Wien. Take the phrase "tiny wiener", and get your mind out of the gutter; this is a language discussion. As far as I can tell, the two words in this phrase changed to rhyme with each other to form "teeny weeny", and adding S's, "teensy weensy", so even here, you're talking about Wien.]

Also in September 1971, before going to Budapest, we spent three weeks in Wien studying advanced German at the University of Vienna. It was the perfect place to study, and we really got to know the city. The teachers reading this, especially the language teachers, would be interested in how the placement test for the six levels of German was done. It was a stroke of genius.

The morning classes were to start, we met, not having been placed yet, in the auditorium. As we came in, they actually played An der schönen, blauen Donau/On the Beautiful, Blue Danube on the speaker system. It created a nice memory. They first announced, in several languages, that anyone with no previous knowledge of German should step outside now to form sections of Level 1. Then they projected various test questions on a screen, after which they said, if you feel comfortable, stay, otherwise assemble to form sections of level 2. On it went until the remaining people, including Bev and me, were the single section of the advanced class, level 6. It was a total self-evaluation, was completed in no time, and was immediately followed by the first day's class.

Our group was with Dr Bründl. I remember him well, even after all these years. He was a wonderful character, who also gave a lot of his own experiences. There were three Russian women in the class. Bründl talked about the division of Austria after WW2 by the four powers, and the division of Vienna, similar to Berlin, except that there were five districts, one each for the US, Britain, France and Russia, but with the center city (I presume within the Ring) an international zone, rotated between the four powers monthly. This is the period where the Third Man takes place. He talked about the deprivations of the time. As a chorus, the three Russian women rose to spout the party line and say how wonderfully the Russians made things. Bründl just looked up, didn't make a fuss, and said something like "you weren't here; I was". What style.

At the end of the course, Bründl gave out the class prize to Bev, a picture book of Austria, which he inscribed. He took us aside afterwards and said he wanted to give it to both of us, but he couldn't. That was just fine with me.

We made two purchases in Käntnerstrasse while we were studying, a large vase and a loden cape for Bev. When we were in Romania, our car was broken into by twisting up the two sides of the VW hood while the latch was still attached, but all they got were those two items. After touring Eastern Europe, we decided to come back to Wien to replace the items. We couldn't find a similar vase, but the same store was still selling the loden cape, gray with green trim, that Bev still wears to this day. It's particularly handy now for me to put on her while she's in a sitting position.

One more blast from the past, and then on to the present. This is an example of Viennese charm. Some might find it over the top; I like it; and in any case, that's Wien for you. Our camera needed repair, and he'd have to keep it for a day or two. Filling out the receipt, he looked up and said:

"And what was (your) worthy name?" It does sound over-the-top in English, but that's pure Wienerisch for you. So I gave him our worthy name and walked out on air.

The Present   The drive Praha-Wien was about 4-5 hours. As soon as we crossed the border, you could tell it was Austria by the words using diminutives. One place had a Terassl. They sold Wurstl. There was a Standl selling fruit. But no one seemed to dare to put two of those together as a Wurstlstandl.

How could a third of a century have gone by without our going back home to Wien? Talk about putting your toe in the flowing stream. We'd missed a lot of change, especially with the fall of the Iron Curtain.

Nowadays of course, motorways flow into Wien. I wanted nothing of that. The closest motorway coming from Praha went along the north bank of the Danube into Wien, but I wanted to make a romantic entrance through the back door, and I knew how to do that. We swung over and crossed the Danube at Tulln to the south bank, which is where the bulk of the city lies, and proceeded to Klosterneuburg, where the Höhenstrasse (Heights-Street, that is, the Crest Road) rose into the Wienerwald. Why not go back to Wien through the Vienna Woods?

You must understand the geography here. Vienna itself lies on a plain, which extends further into the great Hungarian plain. The very last foothills of the Alps, and they are just hills (420-480m, 1400-1600ft) lie right to the west of the city. I would imagine the city was founded where it was (by the Romans, as Vindobona) because of the protection of these hills. However, these hills to the west and south of the city have been left as parkland, and are known as the Wienerwald/Vienna Woods (think of Strauss's Geschichten aus dem Wienerwald/Tales from the Vienna Woods). I drove up to two view points, Leopoldsberg and Kahlenberg, and looked down at the city.

It was the Arabs (Moors) who invaded Europe in the West, being stopped in France, but retaining much of Spain and Portugal for centuries, permanently influencing language and culture. But in the east it was the Turks. They invaded, and kept, the Balkans for centuries, and were famously stopped, as it is said, "at the gates of Vienna". Even nearby Hungary was overrun, and most of Budapest's churches were turned into Mosques. The invading Turks were pushed back after centuries, but areas like Bosnia still have large Muslim populations. The Turks are mostly gone from Europe, but not quite. The former Greek Orthodox Constantinople and the area around it is still Turkish Istanbul.

In any case, from the Wienerwald viewpoints, you can see it all from above, the Danube flowing north of Wien, the Riesenrad ferris wheel in the Prater park (featured in The Third Man), the old city, it's all below you. Not very many kilometers away you can see Slovakia and Hungary, it's all that close, and it's all Old Austria-Hungary. What a way to enter Wien.

There are also monuments on Leopoldsberg to the Polish and Ukranian officers and soldiers who helped stand guard in 1529 as the Turks camped outside the city gates, but after several months the siege was broken. Vienna never became Turkish as all those other areas down to Constantinople had.

We've gone to many theaters in Wien, and once we went to the Simpl Cabaret. Now you have to keep in mind that the image of the Turk is iconic in this part of the world. Also, since WW2, a great number of Gastarbeiter/guest workers have settled in Germany and Central Europe, many, many of them Turkish, often taking menial jobs.

One very memorable act at the Simpl Cabaret was a man in workingman's clothes singing in the dark under a spotlight. He sang a cute song about his being Turkish, and about how years ago the Turks never made it to Vienna as conquerers, but now they're there! Then he turns and you see a bunch of newspapers under his arm: I'm here, but all I do is "schlepp den Kurier". The Kurier/Courier is a major Viennese paper, and his presentation brought down the house. That's the essence of true German/Austrian cabaret: getting to the reality of the situation in a clever or satiric manner.

Yet the Turks had a very deep and iconic influence on Wien and the rest of the world in this period, and both involve food. The Turks use the crescent as their symbol, and Viennese bakers started baking crescent-shaped pastries, called Kipferl. When these reached France, the crescents were translated as croissants, which is what we still know them by. And then there's coffee, the Türkentrank/Turkish drink.

Turks abandoning the siege area left behind bags of roasted coffee beans. The Viennese adopted the coffee habit, and the rest is history. The custom of drinking coffee, while Turkish, entered the Western world through Vienna. To this day, the Viennese coffee house is a venerable tradition. You can sit reading over a cup of coffee for hours. There are also many varieties of how to order coffee, a Mélange, Einspänner, and many others. It is curious that it was Italian espresso that had a big influence in more recent times, spreading to the Starbucks phenomenon. You also have to know the difference between a latte and a macchiato, but here all the terminology is Italian. By the way, I saw a Starbucks right behind the Opera House in Vienna. Boy, if that isn't carrying coals to Newcastle.

One more thing: did you ever wonder what the Danish call what we refer to as Danish pastry? They call it vinerbrod, which is Wiener bread, or Vienna pastry, so they give credit where credit is due. Now the next time you sit down to coffee and danish you can thank Vienna twice!

The center of Wien was surrounded by walls from the time of the Turkish siege to the 1870's, at which time the walls were torn down and a circular boulevard, the Ringstrasse, or Ring for short, was laid out. There is much of interest within the old city, such as Saint Stephen's cathedral, the Stephansdom, nicknamed Steffl (what other diminutive?). We stayed (free, on points) at the Bristol Hotel on the Ring across from the State Opera House. Because of the location, lots of big names stayed there over the years, Enrico Caruso, Nelly Melba, Theodore Roosevelt, and on and on (even Arnold Schwarzenegger).

Right outside the Ring are two areas of interest, former towns, now neighborhoods. Wieden is where the Musikverein is. Every year on New Year's day, Walter Cronkite hosts the concert by the Wiener Philharmoniker broadcast around the world, which famously ends with both the Blue Danube and the Radetzky Marsch, with everyone clapping along.

Next to Wieden on the Ring is the curiously named former town, now neighborhood, of Landstrasse, which means "country road/highway", but is the name of a neighborhood. The beautiful Schwarzenbergplatz leads up to Belvedere Palace. What I find interesting about this area is Metternich's famous quote: Asien beginnt in Landstrasse. If Asia begins in Landstrasse, you can just picture the Turks camped right outside what is now the Ring.

Think of the importance of the Congress of Vienna in 1814-4, reorganizing what Napoleon had done. Think of the UN having a base in Wien.

As to the monarchy, which just disappeared after the Great War, there are interesting parallels with the British monarchy. Maria Theresia (mother of Marie Antoinette) had a long reign like Victoria, but was in the previous century. More contemporary to the mother figure of Victoria in Britain is the father figure of Franz Josef in Austria-Hungary. Franz Josef died, after 68 years on the throne, in 1916, right in the middle of the war. You can imagine what additional turmoil that brought. It's interesting to consider what might have happened if Victoria lived a few more years and died during the war as well.

And then there's Sissi. Most English-speakers are hardly aware of the affection the people had for Franz Josef's wife, Empress Elizabeth, known universally as Sisi or Sissi. She was the human side of the monarchy and is incredibly parallel to Princess Di. She had a tragic life (she was the mother of Crown Prince Rudolf who committed suicide at Mayerling), and she, like Di, died tragically. In 1896, while strolling on the promanade in Lausanne, Switzerland, an assassin stabbed her. Because of her tight corset, she didn't realize how serious it was, and actually continued walking a short distance. At any rate, there are still hotels and restaurants named after her. She was also Queen of Hungary, and the Hungarians were and are particularly fond of her. The Erzsébet hid/Elizabeth Bridge is a major crossing in Budapest. In Vienna a jewelery shop that had made jewelry for her a century ago had a window display offering copies. At monuments to her you see fresh flowers left. I just found out a Sisi-Museum just opened up. Sisi is very parallel to Di, and Sisi represents another unifying force in the region.

Tea   But I digress. This has nothing to do with Vienna, but since we discussed coffee coming from the Turks via Wien, you might find this interesting about tea.

Tea, of course came from China, but depending on how it came, overland or by sea, depends on what the word for it is.

Overland expeditions from Europe via Central Asia, perhaps the Silk Road, to China had dealings with inland Chinese. When they discovered tea and brought it back, they brought back a name for it that these inland Chinese used, which resulted in Russian chai (rhymes with Thai), and similar names in other Eastern European languages.

However, the British, Dutch, Portuguese, and others in Western Europe sailed to China around Africa. They had dealings with coastal Chinese, and brought back tea using the name they heard there, which was something like tay (rhymes with olé). This word is used in many Western European languages with varying spellings, all pronounced the same: Tee, thé, te, té. English also adopted this word, but today the original pronunciation remains only in dialect speech: 'ave a cuppa tay! Standard English has changed it to "tea".

The Danube   Vienna is on the Danube. Sort of. But it's probably not what you think. If you want to see "The Beautiful Blue Danube", go upstream for about an hour, even beyond Tulln where we crossed, to the Wachau (vakhOW). This is where you find beautiful scenery, Melk, Krems, Dürnstein. (There is a Wachovia Bank in the US. I suspect it's a latinized version of Wachau.)

Wien was established near a part of the Danube that was a swamp, with lots of islands. On older maps the river looks like a python that's just had dinner, with a big circular bulge in the middle, which is these swampy islands. Eventually, the river was channalized, and this is what you have today: in a semicircle to the north, a channel called the Alte Donau (Old Danube), in a semicircle to the south, the Donaukanal (Danube Canal). This is the part that comes closest to the city, actually right near the Old City, but it is nothing to see, nothing like Parliament on the Thames or Notre Dame on the Seine.

The circle in between was made solid ground, with the channellized Danube coming straight as an arrow down the middle. Very boring. In this area is where the United Nations has its Vienna headquarters, and where the famous Prater amusement park is, with the famous Ferris wheel. By the way, the name Prater means meadow, and the word is related to the name of the Prado Museum in Madrid.

Storks   We drove out of Wien down to the Neusiedler See, a major lake almost completely in Austria, with just a part of it in Hungary. Our Michelin said that the town of Rust, on the lake, was famous for its storks, which come back regularly every season. I didn't expect much. Storks are big birds. The only experience I remember ever seeing any was in Salamanca, Spain, where, if you looked carefully, there might be a nest on top of a roof, probably empty. We maybe saw one or two storks in Salamanca, at a distance. Was I ever wrong though about not seeing them here in Rust. We pulled into the town, and immediately you could see some small structures that the people had added to their steep roofs to accommodate the storks, to prevent them from building nests on top of chimneys. The birds are huge, so the nests are huge. There were some empty nests, then one or two with a single bird, then one with four. There were storks everywhere. Picture a large dog on top of a steep, sloped roof, and you get the idea of how startling it is to see these birds up there. A very pleasant experience.

Dining   The last topic for Wien will be dining. There are many Austrian specialties, but the best known is Tafelspitz. I ordered it two nights while here. It is known as the favorite of Kaiser Franz Josef (old traditions die very, very slowly in Wien). It doesn't sound like much. It's two slices of boiled beef served with a home-fry kind of potatoes. But it always comes with standard side dishes. As day follows night, believe me, these three dishes come with it.

A side of creamed spinach. You have no idea how well this works as a sauce on the meat and potatoes, as well as the other two: a dish of chives in cream, and also Apfelkren, which is ground horseradish in apple sauce. You have to try it, if for nothing more than the tradition of it. (Note: horseradish in standard German is Meerrettich [sea radish (???)]. Austrian usage is often different, and here it's Kren, which shows Slavic influence.) The second time I ordered Tafelspitz we went to Plachetta, which is known for it. They served it in the pan, in its natural beef broth, and served the broth right out of the pan as a first course. It was the tastiest boullion I've ever had.

You cannot visit Wien without learning the word Heuriger (HOIriger), which has two meanings. It refers both to new, fresh wine, grown locally, and also the special kind of restaurant you go to drink it. You go to a Heuriger to drink Heuriger, just as you go to a café to drink café. In Wien you go up to Grinzing in the Wienerwald (last stop on the streetcar line) to visit a Heuriger. We drove through Grinzing on arriving (one Heuriger was known to have been frequented by Freud), and had visited Heuriger there in the past, so this time we sought out one in town, a Stadtheuriger (City Heuriger), located on a back street in an old convent (everything seems to be located in an old convent, with vaulted ceilings). The music was by a violin and accordeon, and they played all the old songs.

But our best experience was our first full day in Wien. I had read about the Drei Husaren (Three Hussars), and we went there for dinner. It was in an old convent with vaulted ceilings. (!!!) It was very nice, but here the music was the best. We were seated in an alcove next to the pianist, who played beautifully. He played Wien, Wien nur du allein. He played the Radetzky Marsch (clap, clap). I asked for Der dritte Mann (The Third Man), and he played that. At one point he happened to play I Can't Help Falling in Love with You, and I told him that was Bev's favorite song. I chatted with the pianist, and we seem to have bonded.

As we were getting ready to leave, he played Der dritte Mann again. As we were getting up, he played I Can't Help Falling in Love with You again, so what else could I do while moving Bev from one chair to the other but slow-dance a little in place. Then, on the way out, I said we hadn't heard An der schönen, blauen Donau/On the Beautiful, Blue Danube, and he complied, and walking out, I walked the wheelchair in a circle around the middle of the restaurant.

At the entrance to the restaurant, three waiters were bowing and scraping, and hoping we had enjoyed the evening (this is Wien, of course). Just then, the pianist came running--running--out of the back and pressed a CD of his into my hand. I protested, he insisted. He said he wanted us to have it. It had everything--everything--on it, all the above songs and a lot more, and he played well. It's a wonderful memory to take home from Wien, to say nothing of our Worthy Name. It's all very Wienerisch.

[Note: you may recall a similar incident in Alfama, our Portuguese restaurant in New York, where a singer presented Bev with his CD and kissed her hand. We seem to attract CDs.]