Twenty-four hours in Vienna.

I never knew Vienna before the war; I hardly remember it from my last visit, over ten years ago. Then I had come by night; during the day it’s an entirely different city altogether.

On my flight from Bradley airport to Dublin I’m fortunate to have an entire row to myself, but instead of lying down and going to bed I decide to watch a Jason Statham movie.

Unfortunately, it’s not enough to keep my attention. Browsing the options I see The Shawshank Redemption. I had just listened to the What Went Wrong podcast episode devoted to the film and decide to watch it from the beginning for only the second time. The first time I saw the film it was in the theaters, the second bill of a double feature with Dumb and Dumber.. I was visiting my father in Idaho at the time and was looking for something to do.

I had skipped the first film, arriving just as it was coming to an end. It was a weekday and the first showing was decently attended. As the credits began to roll everyone stood up to leave but for one person. He promptly fell asleep, snoring through the second half of the film.

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On the flight from Dublin to Vienna I’m not so lucky. Crammed into the last row of the plane, I can’t get comfortable with the awkward angle of the non-adjustable seat.

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It’s my second time in Vienna, and I’m staying the night so that I can visit with my friend’s friend Honorata, who I had first met in Moscow. She had graciously met me on a Sunday in 2013 (she reminds me of the day and year) and showed me her city by night, pointing out various filming locations of The Third Man and other sights. Her then boyfriend wondered why she was taking me to see the movie locations, surprised at how excited I was when Honorata pointed out the doorway in which we first see Orson Welles’ character appear on screen.

Today, Honorata has a one-year-old boy in tow. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

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We arrive at the airport 15 minutes early and taxi for a very short amount of time. The fasten seatbelt sign dings off, but it’s some time before we in the last row are able to depart.

The line at immigration is almost non-existent, however, and the official who stamps my passport welcomes me enthusiastically. I take the city airport train to the center of the city, switching to the U-Bahn to reach my hotel. I allow myself the extra €10.00 to check in early so that I can take a shower and nap before meeting Honorata.

With a few hours to spare I rouse myself from slumber and head out into the street. It’s about a 30 minute walk to the würstelstand where w'e’ve agreed to meet and I decide to take the time to quickly visit the center.

It’s. a lovely walk to the center. I pass the Vienna State Opera, the Albertina Museum, and the Memorial Against War and Fascism (a memorial to which people from the States should pay heed). Little do I know that I’ll be meeting Honorata back near the museum as Bitzinger, a popular hot dog stand she’s chosen as the place for us to meet sits in a plaza right below it.

I pass the Donnerbrunnen in the Neuer Markt square and stop into a shop to buy some postcards. The fountain dates to 1739 and was designed by Georg Raphael Donner who placed Providentia, a personification of foresight, at the center. Perhaps its my state of the mind on the world at large, but it feels like another warning to Americans.

St. Stephen's Cathedral rises tall from the Stephansplatz, the geographical centre of Vienna. It stands on the ruins of two earlier churches, the first a parish church from 1147. The current structure opened in 1578 after centuries of construction. It was spared intentional destruction at the hands of retreating German forces during World War II when Wehrmacht Captain Gerhard Klinkicht disregarded orders from the city commandant, but was severely damaged by fire in 1945. Reconstruction efforts brought it back by 1952.

It’s a beautiful building, the stonework shines in under clear skies.

I tour the inside of the cathedral, but am thwarted when I try to ascend the tower. Admission is cash only and I have none.

Back outside I find a stone bench with views of the cathedral and set to writing postcards. I’m determined to write and post the cards I have purchased before I am to meet my friend.

With a little time left I wander away from the church to find another street by which I can return to the museum to meet Honorata. I follow the crowds down a pedestrian lane to the Wiener Pestsäule, a 17th century Holy Trinity column built to commemorate victims of the plague.

Nearby, I spot St. Peter's Church just down a road running perpendicular to my path and I take the slight detour to have a look inside.

The oldest church building on the site (of which nothing remains) dates to the Early Middle Ages, with some speculating it could be the oldest church in Vienna. The current Baroque church was begun around 1701 and completed in 1733. It’s been restored several times since, most recently from 2001 to 2004 when a comprehensive project worked on restoring the interior and exterior.

The interior is breathtaking, but there’s a service underway and I limit myself to standing just inside the door.

I also don’t have long before I am to meet Honorata and so I turn and follow the road leading away from the church towards the museum, following my nose as it leads the way.

I am as yet early and so find a seat on the steps of the Albrechtsbrunnen, a fountain built at the base of one of the few parts of the remaining city walls. Named for Archduke Albrecht, owner of the palais, the monument was unveiled in 1869 on Emperor Franz Joseph’s birthday, and features allegorical figures for Vienna, the Danube river, and major tributaries of the Danube.

Honorata soon arrives and we stand in line for sausages. We buy sausages and white wine spritzers and are given glasses along with our food. We cross the street and find a bench nearby to sit and eat.

Her one-year-old is restless, however, and after eating his sausage is eager to get up and explore. We return the glasses to the kiosk and Honorata puts her son back in his stroller and we proceed to walk.

She tells me that the summer holidays are ended and people are now flooding back into the city. We walk back in the direction I had just come and she points out the Palais Fries-Pallavicini, the location of Harry Lime’s apartment in The Third Man and the site of his death in the plaza past which we stroll. I had walked right past it when coming to meet her, completely oblivious. But now, as she points it out, the film plays out before me and I can see the setups in my head.

We pass the Stallburg, the stables of the Spanish Riding School, and see Lipizzaners in their stables. Honorata tells me that you can see them cross the street when they head to the Hofburg Palace to perform.

We reach a circle and the Michaelerplatz entrance to the Hofburg Palace. Just across from the Neo-Baroque palace is the modern facade of the Looshaus, acommercial and residential building also known as the Raiffeisenbank building, It’s fascinating to see this crossroads of history reflected in the differing architecture styles.

Honorata tells me it’s been two years since she’s seen this part of the city. She tells me it’s cleaner. New trees have been planted against the wishes of historians who wanted to keep the area looking the same as it was, but I think they look nice.

She asks me whether we should explore the center or the gardens. The last time I had visited we had walked around the center and so I propose the gardens.

We walk to the Volksgarten and the Monument to Empress Elisabeth. She tells me she spent a lot of time in this park during the Covid lockdowns, talking to Elisabeth about her life, trying to sort it out. She tells me the story of Elisabeth and I’m impressed at how detailed her telling is. She tells me that growing up there was a musical about Empress Elizabeth’s that she liked where she learned about her.

We continue walking around the gardens. She points out one of the earliest discotheques in the city. It’s since been updated. I ask her if there’s still ball season in Vienna. Yes, she tells me; it’s long.

Her boy begins melting down and so I walk her to the train station so they can go home. It’s time for his bath. She suggests another set of gardens that’s a short train ride away, but after looking at the time we realize that they’ll be closed by the time I can arrive.

She tells me I should stay longer next time. I’d like to. It’s a beautiful city and easy to navigate and it’s been great seeing Honorata again. I help her with the stroller and we hug one last time before we part.

Honorata recommends a cafe and I walk past the Kunsthistorisches Museum to Café Sperl, a coffee house dating to 1880, for an espresso and a sachertorte before I head back home. It’s an atmospheric place and reminds me of the Café Sabarsky tucked away in a corner of the Neue Galerie building in New York.

I decide to skip dinner. The hot dog and the cake are enough to tie me over. I’m still tired and jetlagged and will be headed to Bratislava in the morning. I walk home as dusk creeps over the city. It’s a quiet Sunday night and on empty corners I feel I have the city to myself; it seems to exist for me alone. 🇦🇹