Vienna

Library at Melk
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Monday. Too tired last night after arriving in Vienna to file a report, so I’ll make one report for the past two days.

Before leaving Melk yesterday morning, I walked back up to the abbey to see their impressive library. (I had tried to talk my way in yesterday afternoon at closing time, to no avail.) The current library dates to the Counter-Reformation, well past the time that the abbey played an instrumental role in the transmission of classical learning, but it was still a powerful experience to be there. The abbey holds an 11th century copy of the Aeneid, which was not on display, but I was able to examine (through glass) a 13th century copy of the Rule of St. Benedict. It’s hard to imagine the labor that goes into so much of one sees in Europe: the huge cathedrals, on the one hand, and, on the other, the minuscule print that kept alive so much literature through the dark ages.

Finding room for dessert

Hundertwasser Haus
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I also took a brief walk through the museum at the abbey. A few days ago, I commented on the richness of Catholic ritual and wondered why one would become Protestant. At the abbey, I looked at all the wealth--and particularly a jewel-encrusted silver reliquary holding the shin bones of the abbey’s patron saint--and thought Protestantism was absolutely inevitable.

We had a relatively short ride yesterday through the wine growing Wachau region, but it was a hot day, and we found ourselves exhausted after dropping off bikes in the town of Krems, finding a train to Vienna, and getting tickets back to Munich for Wednesday morning, and figuring out the subway system sufficiently to find our hotel here on the west side of town. After two weeks, I find myself in a state of cultural surfeit, where I begin to find myself forgetting (language, directions, etc.) more than I remember. It’s a bit like enjoying a huge repast and then trying to find room for dessert: in this case, two and a half days in Vienna.

A castle we chose not to climb up to
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We are finding ourselves a bit at sea back in a large city after so much time in the countryside. Vienna is about the size of Munich, but feels much larger and more cosmopolitan. That makes sense, of course, since one was the principal city of Bavaria and the other was the capital of a great empire. We are hearing English again--after hearing very little up to now--as well as a whole range of other languages. Besides the usual traveling languages in Western Europe, Czech, I think, and maybe Hungarian?

Riding by vineyards in the Wachau
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This morning we explored the inner city, and then deciphered the tram and bus system to visit the Vienna Woods north of town and two contrasting houses in the southern part of the city. Two of Vienna’s three Beethoven museums are in Heiligenstadt, on the edge of the woods, but we merely waved from the bus since they’re closed on Monday.

South of the inner city, we visited an apartment house built as a public housing project in the 1980s by the painter Friedensreich Hundertwasser, who looks to have been influenced by Gaudi, Dali, Rudolf Steiner, and the 1960’s. The building is meant to be an organic rebellion against the tyranny of the straight line, and has a certain charm. I’m not sure how well it will stand the test of time.

The castle at Durnstein, where Richard the Lionheart was imprisoned
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At the opposite extreme and a short walk away was the Wittgenstein Haus. Wittgenstein was perhaps the most brilliant philosopher of the 20th century and seems to have been remarkably accomplished at everything he did. He designed the house, which is like his approach to philosophy: spare and elegant: “logic turned into stone” is how someone once described it. I had hoped to go inside (it’s now the Bulgarian embassy), but a sign on the door said that you need to get advance permission during the summer months.

Wittgenstein haus
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This evening we went over to the Rathaus Platz for Vienna’s Summer Film Festival. What does summer film festival mean to you? Marx Brothers? Singing in the Rain?

Here it means La Boheme, and tomorrow is that great crowd pleaser: Bruckner’s Symphony Number 5. The place is packed, though. The film is projected onto a 50 foot high screen in front of the city hall, and the thousand or so most serious spectators get there early for the wooden chairs; the next thousand or so sit on wooden bleachers; the others are eating and drinking and milling about at the tables set up among the 30 or so food stands. It’s quite a scene. A few differences from what you would see in the States: besides the range of food (Indian, Greek, Iranian, etc.) there are booths for beer, wine, and cocktails, and everything is served on china plates and in real glasses. We bought some souvlaki and beer and wandered out to the nearby park to enjoy our meal while listening to the music in the distance. It’s perhaps not so different from the nineteenth century European tradition of going to the opera, where people went to visit with friends and to see and be seen as much as to hear the music.