Up the Danube: Picture Perfect Vienna

Right after Budapest on this trip up the rivers, we arrived smash into Vienna: four days, three world capitals. I’d have to say Vienna in comparison was clean, stylish, full of music and ornate buildings, and a bit smug about its cleanliness, music, and style. But probably justified.

Before proceeding on to picture-perfect Vienna, I want to note that I’m writing these blogs on my tablet with a quaint little keyboard and lovely little tablet-mouse. The ship has free wi-fi, which is a blessing. However, WordPress software on a tablet  is very glitchy. It constantly stops when I am typing, like right now. It’s very confusing, because sometimes it immediately does what it’s supposed to, and other times won’t respond for a few minutes, then hops around to random paragraphs. So I must apologize for all the typos and to KK who is tired of hearing me whine about it. Even now, it’s making a vein throb in my head , waiting for it actually s-h-o-w what I type.

Anyway, I also note that just before Vienna, we went through our first lock on the Danube, where you sail into the little garage and the water goes up. The first was riveting to watch, but even within the next two days, we’d done about 12 of these, so they got less interesting quickly. Dan, the boat’s cruise director, joked that a lady was awakened by “Earthquakes!” which was only the ship gently banging a side in the lock. Except that, Dan, they do feel like earthquakes if you’re from California where you have experienced many earthquakes. 

Floating down the Danube, there is green river, lots of bends, bird sanctuaries–around every corner is yet another castle or church or picturesque town. Hence, the sighting of big buildings was a bit exciting. Ah, Vienna! (never mind the Hard Rock cafes and Happyland and clogged traffic like any other tourist area of a big city) Vienna! Former capital of the empire, full of free water and health care, and so many statues of Mozart.

Formerly Imperial, Still Stylish

Vienna was the capital of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire, at one time a sprawling, expanding territory. The Habsburgs who stumbled here in the 1200s did have an army, but according to  excellent Austrian historian Alex Kugler, who gave us a riveting talk, what they really excelled at was dynastic marriages. (Agnes of Prague could have said Told you so).

Kugler told us that Austria is a mix of “Melancholy from the East, fatalism, Jewish wit, German efficiency, and Easygoing Italians… in other words, an Austrian is an unsuccessful attempt to turn an Italian into a German.” Not a blend of cultures sweeping across the plains like the Hungarians, not the beleaguered Czechs. More like people that want to be proud but can’t exactly be certain of what, but they are damned proud of it.

For a while, it was Empire. We heard repeatedly about the most famous Empress Maria Theresa (the TV series covers a century later) and her 16 children, including Marie Antoinette, about how she got fat eating chocolate and brought an entourage of 30 whenever she visited, say, a ducal palace or monastery. At one point, the Austria-Hungary Empire stretched over dozens of countries, until they backed the wrong side in the war, and then they were shrunk to just a tiny thing, though still at the “heart” or center of Europe.

(Again, to a historian who has dabbled in a little study of China, India, and Persia, I wouldn’t say Austria is really at the heart of anything except their conception of the known world. And, Ludmilla tour guide, by the way, it was the Dark Ages only in Germany so they weren’t all that depressed in Baghdad in 1350. But never mind.)

Viennese Music Superior

Vienna is darned proud of their musical heritage, but certainly has a right to it. So many “heroes”–Mozart, Strauss, Bruckner, Haydn, Mahler—geez, who wasn’t from Vienna? Their Vienna Resident Orchestra does a little concert for tourists, but they did show off their composers and skill quite well.  The concertmaster, i.e. first violinist, made a great show of pretending to be uncertain of what the music was, some shtick which got old by the fifth time. But when he did the long solo (I swear, in an Italian and not Austrian composition, it was clear why he was the #1 guy.

The group was quite small, which was good because so was the platform, and it was lovely to be just six feet away. Three violins, contrabass, cello, flute, and a piano to the side, plus sometimes two ballet dancers and sometimes two opera singers. None of them “star” quality, but in that ancient venue, so close to the small audience, the tone and experience was exquisite.

When they played the opening notes, I hit KK and whispered What’s that from? and she hissed “Marriage of Figaro,” shhh. But later I remembered, it’s what Gene Wilder as Wilie Wonka plays to open the chocolate room: Mozart. 

They gave it a good welly, I must say. The dancers didn’t have a lot of room to maneuver, so they did a lot of miming and twirling. She looked Russian and had a wide smile, but I suspect she was a diva off stage; he did all the moves, but his mop of hair-sprayed bangs and droopy moustache said tech-bro hipster. Looked awfully Montclair to me, for those of you from the East Bay, you know, Don’t you have any oat milk?

The singers were older and wiser and made up for their lack of vocal quality with hilarious stage business. The tenor kept kissing her hand and massaging her shoulders, while she gave that ugh look. She had the reddish hair of my high school German teacher and slightly crooked teeth, plus the shrillness that tends to accompany German arias. But I loved her all the same and she had a great mezzo name Frida-Julia Schneider Ploy.

Pierced By the Sounds of the Choir

The other musical experience for me was, I have to say, a bucket list item, and up close and personal tour of the school and practice/performance space for the Vienna Boys Choir. This was because when I was in the 4th grade, Holy Cross Lutheran School, we once had a special t special opportunity.  We watched a movie… in! School! We filed into the multipurpose room, sat on folding chairs, and it was on a projector, but still!!! Of course, it was a strict school so the movie was the most sanitized thing possible, a religious-themed movie about boys singing hymns.

You can’t really find copies of “Almost Angels” anymore, a Disney 1962 classic. Young Tony (somehow the boys all speak English) enters the choir and is immediately bullied by the oldest guy, Peter, who is captain of the football team er… best soloist in the choir. Peter not only beats on Tony but plays a prank that nearly leads to serious injury. However, in a twist, Peter’s voice starts to change, and it turns out that Tony helps him cover it up. But at the last moment, Peter’s conscience wins out, and Tony gets the big solo  HOORAY!

Anyway, to sit two feet away, for me, was almost too much. These kids really do sound like what angels probably sound like. I’ve heard them three times in giant concert halls, but this was so much better, I’d have to say almost an out-of-body experience. When they started the first Strauss piece, it was like been pierced to the core with music, and I teared up, a little embarrassing, since I was in the front row. “O Fortuna” was rousing and a bit amusing, but if you know the piece, you know where the high notes go, and those notes hit me like a wall. During “Ave Maria”  and “Regina Cielio,” the ceiling exploded. I thought they were wasted on “Mamma Mia,” their encore, but the boys clearly liked it, so a good ending for all.

The thing is that these are 10 to 14-year-old boys, so as disciplined as they were, hands at their sides, mouths making the proper singing shapes, they never stopped twitching. They grimaced at each other and made little giggles and shimmied their shoulders. And still sounded like the purest music you could ever hear. One kid in the front, the soloist from Japan, was quite short but turned out to be the oldest at 14. During the Q&A, the master explained that Joe’s voice had started to change after years as a primo soloist, but that they had all learned that certain exercises could prolong the high voice.

Joe, it turns out at 14, was a bit of a smart-aleck, and, during the  Q&A, told us that he was great at basketball–he was about four foot two. I noticed that his formal shoes were not laced up the top, with the laces dragging, like a sports star. But, again, purest voice I’d ever heard, two feet away.

Clean, Crisp, and a Bit Smug

Aside from all the music, I got a chance to bike on a tour along the Danube, which was beautiful and cold on a late September morning. We toodled along, spotting birds, abbeys, and eying the foothills at the start of the Alps. Our guide, Jan, said to be a little wary of the FKK sign: nudist beach. Fortunately, he said that there’d be none out today because of the cold, which was good because his experience was that the nudists you’d see were not the ones you’d want to see.

Jan also extolled the virtues of Vienna’s first water, which comes through from the Alps. So drinking at a local fountain was like drinking bottled water and free for all.

There were also the excellent and free public schools, including the one in the little park. That day, a group was out playing cricket, who looked decidedly not Viennese, but the second bowler was quite good. I’m sure the school system is good, Albert Einstein and all (though Einstein was a terrible student, failed math and all that).

The guides also told us that graffiti was a problem until they curtailed by allowing the taggers to only paint in certain place. Except there was graffiti everywhere, and when you asked, they said, well, that wasn’t allowed there, but they were certain it would be fixed. Because Vienna must be picture perfect.

Vienna after the first war ended up a small country and now neutral, so it has UN buildings. Clean water and happy to tell you about it. “People’s buildings” now that the empire is gone, and happy to remind you about their socialism. Gorgeous music and happy to smirk about it, except I really was transported by some of the music. Not the Strauss, though. Not a fan.

And yet, it still shows off well in the sun,  for cricket players (new Austrians I’d guess) and bicyclists. I guess the Viennese deserve to be a little smug about it, all of it.