Freedom in Progress

The weather has been decidedly tropical these past few days, actually, slowly, it’s becoming weeks, so basically we’ve been enjoying a rather tropical summer, minus those two horrid rainy days which obviously coincided with a weekend. But otherwise it’s constantly hot and hair frizzling humid so you’re constantly looking for ways to convince your body that you’re not intentionally trapping it in a thermal pool for the whole season.

And what better way to do that than by enjoying the Danube breeze on Óbudai island which has begun its annual transformation from sleepy dog playground to probably the best festival in continental Europe- yes, we mean that probably exactly in the way those smart copywriters meant it when they came up with the slogan for that Danish beer we won’t mention here. The probably is actually not there. And we’re doubtful about the continental part too- give it a couple of years and a triggering of the infamous Article 50, and Glastonbury will be just an expensive Sziget with crap weather.

So in the pleasant evening breeze, accompanied by the occasional dog still being trotted around the island, we noticed with delight that the A38 stage is already in place and the Main Stage is coming along nicely as well. The Colosseum is almost done too, but was declared dangerous by the grumpy security guard who was protecting the edifice- mostly from the aforementioned dogs micturating on it and from the dust stirring arrival of another member of staff, who decided that this was the time to organize an impromptu rally with his pocket Peugeot.

He was greeted with unhappy cries of langsam, langsam, which is how the island still felt a week before the start of the festival- although it officially begins on the 10^th of August, those with 7 day camping passes can start moving in on the evening of Sunday, August 8^th. The two buffer days, besides providing campers with the opportunity to properly settle in and check out the city as well, will also be welcome given the new personalized entry system, which might take a little longer than in previous years, but will ensure safer partying for everyone.

And though it might sound a tad odd, if there is one type of queuing I tolerate pretty well, that’s queuing to get into Sziget, mainly because the people in the queue are always totally entertaining. Many stories would be worth telling, but let’s just mention the Brits in bee onesies who were trying to smuggle in honey in jars and gave convoluted explanations as to why they must be let in with said items. The undisturbed security personnel were peacefully nodding while one of them remarked that he’d be tempted to let them in if they start claiming they made the honey themselves.

Meanwhile time slipped by and we made it to the other side, sadly without finding out what happened to the busy bees- and before anyone gets upset over honey being frowned upon on the island, the problem was the glass jars. Although clearly mentioned as no go items in Sziget regulations I hardly ever queued without witnessing a Jar-gate. So everyone has one week to figure out how to enter the island without a jar (that should prove ridiculously simple lest you’re Winnie the Pooh) and we’ll meet you on the K-bridge.

Wienerwald is More Than a Forest

Some weeks ago I happened to find out that the Budapest railjet now arrives to Vienna’s Hauptbahnof instead of good old Westbahnhof- of course it does make sense to have international trains go to the central station of a capital city, but I could not help feeling stabbed in the back by Vienna’s careless authorities. Arriving to Westbahnhof and idling down Mariahilferstrasse has always been an essential part of the Vienna experience and now this enjoyment is no more.

Of course, there were signs of sad demise previously as well, somehow fitting for a city famed for its turn of the century coffeehouse Weltschmerz. It was nevertheless disheartening to see exactly one of those ancient staples of idle pleasures mixed with angst go- some years ago, well, precisely three years ago, at the time when the below pictures gathering virtual dust in the archives were taken, we were shocked and appalled to discover that Café Ciro, a smoky little hole catering coffee, beers and wursts mostly to aged locals had been replaced by a modern nightmare serving the absolutely undrinkable coffee of a below par Italian brand.

So we had to move camp to Café Westend- which was, and hopefully still is, a more upmarket version of Ciro- while one can think that would be an improvement, in a way it isn’t, the whole charm of Ciro lay in its hopeless shabbiness. Café Westend is however more suited to grand endeavours such as reading the papers and staring out into the bustle of Mariahilferstrasse pondering metaphysics, social theory, the general state of things in the world and the universe and whether to get poached eggs or omelet.

So now the next Viennese outing will be about finding a proper coffee house close to the new station- which is not as easy as it seems. And for those objecting that you can simply travel to your place of choice- the transfer from train to coffee house must be immediate and nothing else will do, a metro ride will totally ruin the charm of the whole enterprise.

Instead of so much unnecessary suffering, however, maybe it’s better to round up the some Vienna staples which according to my humble opinion one should not miss when in town.

MuseumsQuartier- of which there is actually no picture in this series, because even before worldwide Instagram madness, I spent my time shooting my red shoes with the backdrop of the mis-shaped yellow plasticky sunbeds on which you can lie for hours, because they are unexpectedly and ridiculously comfortable. We do sometimes venture to exhibitions too, but the best part is always the doing nothing masked as people watching masked as social observations of great import.

Café Demel- leave it to Vienna to have an absolute tourist trap festering with Asian tourists merrily clicking away at somber faced pastry chefs that still functions as a proper coffee house and cake paradise too. And if you get the local specialty unassumingly called Einspänner, you might not wish to consume sugar for a lifetime or two. I regret nothing, though.

Stephansplatz- yes, the central square always filled with people and occasionally some horse carts amiably gliding through the crowd, the cathedral seemingly always amidst some complicated refurbishment. And I always get lost too, ending up on a street I did not expect and almost invariably finding some lavish bookstore which fills me with equal doses of pleasure and guilt- had my German been better, I could have read some Viennese crime stories (of which there seem to be aplenty) in the original, and that would have been such a fine thing to do.

WienerWald- not the actual forest, but the fast food chain. Yes, you read it well, it’s a fast food chain, though you would not necessarily associate it with one if you chance upon the restaurant in Goldschmiedgasse. The food is the best kind of tasty, plentiful and pretty hearty Central-European fare at completely decent prices. The recently opened outpost in Budapest does not do justice to its Vienna sister, but at least my heart beats a little faster with excitement when I see the illuminated green chicken.

Schönbrunn- not the castle itself- though, for once, we have actually visited the thing and all I can recall are some imperial trinkets which fill me with the same kind of horror like the plaster swan gifted to a random Pope upon which I chanced a few days into my captivity in the Musei Vaticani. (You are right, it was actually only a few hours, but it felt like days, then years, and finally millennia of papal tedium).  So instead of the castle, I always choose the garden. It’s big enough to have space to yourself no matter how many people are visiting it, it’s filled with inquisitive squirrels and I even found the zoo interesting, though the koala insisted in only presenting its backside to the public as part of its daily uninterrupted sleeping ritual.

Galerie Westlicht- the Vienna photo museum nestled in the Schottenfeld district, it hosts carefully curated exhibitions of a moderate size, which allows you a comfortable visit even during a day trip. And I always buy innumerable trinkets, which I should maybe regret, but really, I don’t, because they are genuinely nice items and not just tacky souvenirs- another favourite hunting ground for such items are the Museums Quartier shops. I don’t even feel bad about the plastic duck I bought- what I feel very bad about is that somebody stole it from me.