Vienna Waits

 Yes. That’s right, you are in for a JuliaofallTrades travel blog.

I left the country.

 Anxiety. It’s still a bit of a bugger and so I would like to apologise to anyone I snapped at on Friday. The weirdest thing happened, though. I got off the tube and emerged, blinking into the daylight and felt calm. Home. 

What? It’s not my home. I have been to Vienna once before and my sense of direction and aptitude for remembering have declined since then but deja vu is strong in this city.

We came with friends for the Christmas markets. There are nine of them in Vienna and from what I’ve seen so far they are crowded but good. If you want to eat bratwurst and drink Gluwein then Austria is the place to come. 

If you are reading for travel tips then here is my first: Avoid the biggest market, at City Hall square, just as it gets dark. Too crowded. Push. Shove. Panic. 

My second tip: Eat before you get to the point where you are going to kill someone. I saw sausage rage in the queues. 

We only intended to pop out for a quick bite to eat but, as usual, we walked. My friend, who has a heel injury, is probably going to regret this trip with us.

Lights twinkled, people shoved but by about 7 the crowds disappeared enough for locals to walk their dogs and I relaxed enough to notice the music. A trombone quartet. People carrying instruments in expensive hard cases. A harpist by the Christmas tree.

Travel tip 3: You probably don’t need the photo of the Christmas tree from underneath. You are likely to fall over and your friends will leave you to panic in the crush.

Music is everywhere in Vienna. You can barely move without tripping over Mozart’s balls. 

We are in a very nice hotel, with helpful staff, high ceilings, Austrian-style duvet per person (no fighting for the covers in Austria) and a shower cubicle in the middle of the room (bit weird but there’s a curtain) and it has its own opera singing spirit. 

The Long Suffering Husband was also awake by 6am, when the opera singing started. It was a  tuneful, rich and melodious baritone. 

“Can you hear that?” I asked, never fully trusting my senses.

“Yes. It’s outside,” he said, “Go to the window and look if you want.”

I couldn’t see anything. I opened the window to hear better and abruptly, mid-phrase, the aria ended. 

“That’s weird. Maybe it was a ghost,” the LSH suggested.

Trust Vienna to have opera singing spectres.