Vienna, Austria
It's been six weeks since I returned from my yoga retreat in Portugal and I’ve been following my new lifestyle regime with the fervour of the freshly converted, saluting the sun every morning and stretching myself into all sorts of yogic positions… but it seems I’ve been rather too enthusiastic. A simple mis-step halfway through yesterday’s session means I’ve sprained my big toe and am hobbling around in pain, which is rather unfortunate considering we’ve booked a walking tour of Vienna to celebrate the fifth anniversary of our civil partnership.
Not one to be deterred though, I’ve strapped it up with a bloody great bandage and thrown a few ibuprofen down my neck, determined not to let any incapacity ruin our trip.
Fortified by porridge from Pret and scurrilous gossip about Nigella Lawson and Tom Daley from all the papers, the ridiculously early start means we arrive in Vienna soon after 10am, feeling pretty perky and excited to explore. Fortunately our hotel, the Hilton, is located right next to Wien Mitte, the station that the CAT (Vienna’s equivalent of the Heathrow Express) arrives into, so we’re checking in within an hour of landing.
Fortunately I have an old Hilton Honors card stashed in my passport so I flash it at the receptionist and congratulate myself as we’re given a room on the executive floor, which should mean we can use the executive lounge with its free wifi, breakfast and fully stocked bar. Result!
Sadly, our room has twin beds pushed together and smells a little of stale smoke, but seeing as we’ve essentially been given an upgrade we decide not to rock the boat and unpack with indecent haste before hitting the sightseeing trail, ready to report back on our adventures, for you dear reader.
Our walking tour of the city-centre’s main sights is booked for tomorrow afternoon, and so, being wary of too much schlepping around on my sore foot, I suggest we hop on a tram and head south to visit the Belvedere Palace, built by Prince Eugene of Saxony and now a treasure-trove of artistic renown, most famous for its extensive collection of Gustav Klimt works including his two most famous, 'The Kiss’ and ‘Judith’, prints of which adorned my room as a student many moons ago. Ah, those happy Athena days!
Sensibly I’ve packed thermals and long-johns as the cold is biting, so we wrap up like eskimos to venture out into the Austrian air, scarfs swathed around us, gloves clutched tight and big hats clamped firmly to our heads… but by God, it’s still fiercely chilly, at least ten degrees colder than the London we left, with a crisp blue sky and wintry sunshine adding to the seasonal feel.
What really sets it all off though is the Christmas market that greets us in front of the Belvedere Palace. Lots of huts selling gifts and decorations jostle alongside our favoured stalls, those selling glühwein, which is presented in a cute mug with a deposit costing more than the spiced warming vino inside. Nicely tipsy on the steaming booze, we get seduced by a ceramics stall and before we know it we’ve bought a butter dish and some egg-cups, which is a bit of a pain as we’re now lugging around these fragile purchases while we sight-see.
And there’s plenty to see! In the Upper Belvedere palace there are gallery upon gallery of modern art, medieval art and impressionist art, all laid out in wonderfully baroque rooms, most impressive of which is the incredible marble hall which lies at the centre of the palace. After an hour or so drinking it all in, we wrap ourselves up again and brave the bitter air to walk down through the formal gardens to the Lower Belvedere palace which has an exhibition by the German artist Emil Nolde, whose fantastical use of colour is very entertaining.
However, we’re both fading fast by this point, sustained purely by a shared bowl of pumpkin soup and a small salad, with our pre-dawn start taking its toll. So we slip out of the back exit and try to find a tram back to our hotel but unfortunately we’re on the wrong route so meander along, map in hand, before we find ourselves in Scwarzenburgplatz, with its striking Soviet monument to fallen Red Army soldiers who were part of the Allied liberation of Vienna.
From here it’s pretty much walking distance back to the Hilton so I grit my teeth and plough on through the throbbing of my foot, cursing my over-physical attempt at yoga and hoping I’m not doing lasting damage to my sprained toe. A walk through Stadtpark with its golden statue of Johann Strauss and imposing stone representation of Franz Schubert brings us back to the hotel, just as a brilliant sunset illuminates the city.
Collapsing into bed we wake refreshed and hungry an hour or so later, so pop upstairs to check out the Executive Lounge. Oh happy days, they’ve laid out an enormous cheese course and there are bottles of prosecco for our pleasure so we tuck in, praising the fact I’d kept hold of my Hilton card, and smugly patting ourselves on the back for being upgraded. It is our anniversary after all!
The night is still young however, and man cannot live on cheese and bubbles alone so we decide to try out a recommendation we’ve been given by one of Coman’s colleagues and head a few stops across Vienna on the underground to a theatre restaurant called Fromm Helene which serves authentic Austrian cuisine.
It looks lively and fun as we enter, with theatrical posters and photos on the wall, and lovely booths and cute tables dotted around but somewhat disappointingly our table is down in the basement, sandwiched between a frosty Austrian gay couple and two Germanic lesbians on crutches. The only entertainment comes from some American tourists whose conversation ranges from the trivial to the banal. Booze is called for methinks!!
Bellinis and a kir royale are swiftly knocked back while we wait for our traditional Austrian fare of wiener schnitzel (breaded, fried veal) and tafelspitz (boiled beef), both of which are served in portions so huge that we almost weep with fear. Considering the fact that I’ve been righteously pure in my diet since returning from the Portugese retreat, this one meal is going to undo all my good work. Manfully, we do our best, but feel guilty at the fact we barely consume half of what is served, letting the waiter know that yes, we did enjoy it, but we’re just not built to eat half a cow each.
Austria 1, healthy eating 0.
