V. Andenken

I got out to Mexikoplatz today; apparently the Assisikirche there has English-language services. They weren't listed on the schedule. But it was a nice excursion I had, anyway. Then I got a bit lost on the U-Bahn, ending up north of the Danube; from there, I headed back to Schwedenplatz, then returned home on foot. It's quite easy to forget how small the city actually is: I walked across the 1st district (the old city, what used to be within the walls before they were knocked down to make the Ringstraße) quite comfortably.

I had a small moment of epiphany while on my stroll: here I am, walking the streets of Vienna, Austria. This city is older than anything I've ever seen outside of a museum. Everywhere I look, each building is invested with a history, a meaning: here lived Schumann; here, this column commemorates the end of the plague in 1679; here's the building that so offended Franz Josef that he shut his windows to it. It is all very much unlike the strip malls and suburbs back home, where no place is any place at all. I'm not sure what Wendell Berry thinks of cities, but I'm sure he'd appreciate that Vienna has a past. Another prominent conservative thinker, Chesterton, speaks of tradition as the "democracy of the dead"; it is certainly easier to practice this when every moment we realize what a debt we owe to those who have gone before us.

IV. Einsamkeit

Freud—you've heard of him, I suppose?—made his name attempting to treat rich neurotic Jewish ladies in Vienna. (Their symptoms would manifest as all sorts of things, from headaches to spasms to partial paralysis. The blanket term for this was, naturally enough, hysteria.) Was it something about the city that drove these women to that degree of profound nervousness? Perhaps. As I've found out, the weather in Vienna is maddeningly cold and rainy for weeks on end: while back home the violets are peeping above the mould, we've had nothing but moist, cloudy, 3° weather since we arrived. (Actually, it snowed a bit yesterday.) It is enough to make someone agitated. Add to that the layout of the streets, all curving; it's impossible to maintain one's sense of direction, since all the buildings are so close together that one never can see a great distance. Though one is never far from other people, it is difficult to get a sense of social interaction. The Viennese are intensely private, never raising their voices in public. (The only conversations one hears on the U-Bahn are those of Japanese and American tourists.)

There must be something about the city that nurtures the creative urge: is it this simultaneous closeness and isolation that drives residents of Vienna to seek the consolation of art and philosophy, creating such novels, paintings and symphonies? Would we have Mahler, Klimt and Wittgenstein without this maddening city?

I don't mean to say I dislike Vienna; no indeed, it's a beautiful place with no real inconveniences to speak of. But it is important to spend time with friends, lest one go all hysterical; fortunately, I have many Americans here with me. And one simply must avail oneself of the parks—which, at least, Vienna has plenty of. Today I went out to Schönbrunn again, walking up the zig-zag path to the Gloriette and back down. Then I had a Käsekrainer, which can't possibly be healthy but was delicious. I can tell already it will be difficult leaving Vienna when this term is over.

III. die Leute

In Wien übersehen zu werden, ist unmöglich. Man kann nur ignoriert werden.

("In Vienna it's impossible to be overlooked. One can only be ignored.")

—Alexander Löwen

Viennese people aren't like you and me: they're different. But I suspect that this difference is not so much one of nationalities, or of languages (though those are certainly factors, as well); rather, it is that they are urbanites, and I will always feel more at home in the country. The Viennese, I posit, are more like New Yorkers than New Yorkers are like Midwesterners. (They may even be more like Chicagoans than Chicagoans are like the people of rural Illinois!) City people simply don't have the time to be friendly like country folk. On the other hand, they're less likely to judge anyone, for any reason whatsoever. Both qualities stem from the fact that city people don't, well, care. This is liberating, certainly. But were I not surrounded by friends from Augustana at all times, I suspect I'd become lonely and dejected among all these unsmiling, well-dressed, blasé city dwellers.

In the meantime, however, I'm enjoying myself very much. The amount of culture here continues to astound. Visited the Musikverein this evening, and saw Beethoven 4 and Tchaikovsky 6 for only five euros! (It was a standing room ticket, but I didn't mind. Music, played well, should be able to distract us from our legs, shouldn't it?) The Pathétique was especially satisfying; Tchaikovsky may have been weepy too often, but he was very good at it. Before the show I got an authentic Viennese Hot Dog—which probably isn't what you think it is. Their ketchup tastes different here; I can't quite put my finger on it.

II. Etwas Geschichte Wiens

I must apologize for not having posted before now. I have arrived in Wien, and spent three nights here already. It is a remarkable city, one with far more culture than any city of this size—less than two million people—deserves to have. You see, Vienna was once the capital of a far larger empire, ruled by the Habsburg dynasty.

Over centuries, the Habsburgs—known for, among other things, their habit of marrying cousins and their oversized jaws—acquired, by political finagling and expedient marriages, Austria, Hungary, Bohemia, northern Italy, half the Balkans and much of the Ukraine. The imperial capital of this agglomeration of different peoples and lands was Vienna, and it shows. All over the city is monumental architecture, dating from the middle ages, to the apogee of the empire, to today. There are all sorts of influences from all over the vast Habsburg domains, making it a very eclectic-looking city.

Well, that's all for today. I'll write more later. Give me time: I want to spend my time in Vienna experiencing the city, not just writing about it for you.