Our day started in the Museumsquartier this morning with breakfast in the courtyard. I’m enjoying our return to European breakfast that does not focus on greasy, hot, and sugary meals that are the norm back home. Mind you that I certainly love my over-medium eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, and even the occasional pancake loaded with melted butter and syrup, but these past weeks of eating various breads, jams, boiled eggs, and occasionally yogurt with some fruit or muesli has been a serious healthy treat. Afterward, we only needed to cross the street to arrive at the Kunsthistorisches Museum.

The entry into the Kunsthistorisches Museum is magnificent and helps set the mood for a visit to grandeur. This European effort to properly astonish a person entering a place that is meant to leave an impression, while effectively implemented in places like Washington D.C. and Disneyland in the United States,  is in full effect nearly everywhere we go over here. On the other hand, places like the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, and Glacier National Park can achieve the same thing with their natural beauty that would be difficult if not impossible to find in much of Europe aside from the Alps, the fjords of Scandinavia, the Wattenmeer in Northern Germany, and the stark volcanic landscape of Iceland. Okay, these kinds of comparisons are stupid, and so I’ll move on now.

Is this a church, a cathedral, a museum, or a superhero masquerading as architecture? This question triggered a wondering out loud about the role environmental aesthetics play in the culture of a population. Let’s take India and Bollywood first. The movies are outrageously colorful and can be known to jump from exotic location to location with no regard for geography. An average movie will have half a dozen large-scale musical productions and fanciful examples of wealth to adorn the romantic aspect of the movie. These three-hour-long fantasy films take the people of India away from reality and the poverty that surrounds many within India.

On the other hand, take the United States and Hollywood. Action heroes, spies, killers, fast cars, and big guns. Ideas of conquering and winning are typically more important than sophistication and opulent splendor of sappy romance and love. The environment and emotions are utilities that only add nuance to the main character and their quest to win.

European film has historically relied upon intrigue, mystery, love, art, schemes, and hints of things behind the scenes that must be teased out of the fabric of history and culture that the narrative is wrapped in.

How much of the cultural needs of these three environments relate to the dominant styles represented in each region’s films? India and an escape from overpopulation and choking poverty, America with open meaningless space that needs to be subdued even with violence if necessary, and Europe with nuance and history found deep within the art, architecture, music, and philosophy? While science is currently a unifying element among our cultures, films about it haven’t proven of any interest aside from the movies that have looked at historical events that surrounded particular milestones.

This brings us to just what it is that is available to be read between the lines, buried in the details, and hidden in plain view that might require something more than the visceral raw emotions to consume a thing. Here at the Kunsthistorisches Museum, in the main area leading to the various exhibitions, is a gallery of sorts that, while not adorned with framed art, still contains a treasure that might be beyond the obvious.

We just so happened to be here at a time when a temporary scaffolding has been erected to allow visitors to get an up-close look at some of the details that were created by Gustav Klimt specifically for this room in the Kunsthistorisches Museum here in Vienna. This work was commissioned a year before the museum opened in 1890 and 10 years before he stopped taking commissioned work following accusations of creating pornography for a ceiling in the Great Hall at the University of Vienna.

Not only are we afforded an up-close and intimate view of Klimt’s work, but we can also glean details of the architecture that we could only get hints of when observed from below.

In the galleries off the center of the museum, we begin to encounter paintings only seen in textbooks, television, and prints in faraway places other than from where the original hangs. Today, we get to walk up to these rarities with the reality that we are here. This closeup is from “Jagdbeute” by Adriaen van Utrecht from roughly 1650.

I’ve never seen this piece from Otto van Veen titled “The Persian Women” before, but fell in love with the idea of these women shaming their men (who had fled from a battlefield) by showing them their pudenda.

From the Flemish master Peter Paul Rubens, we get to peer into his work “The Hunt of Meleager and Atalanta.” If you are interested in a great read about Ovid’s Metamorphoses and the Meleager, Atalanta, and the Calydonian Boar, I’d direct you to read this article on ElecticLight by the author “Hoakley.”

Detail from “St. Luke Painting the Madonna” by Jan Gossaert.

Today, we have maquettes with correct musculature for 3D artists to follow, but 500 years ago, I guess Frans Floris didn’t quite understand proper anatomy when he tackled painting “The Last Judgment.”

Caroline is seen here checking out Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s work titled “The Tower of Babel.” For recognizability, I feel like this work nearly competes with the “Mona Lisa” or “The Death of Marat.”

While we never made it to the cafe here in the Kunsthistorisches Museum, we did have the opportunity to check out some of the architectural details of the floors above the seating area. Elegance would be one word of many that would come to mind in describing this tiny corner in such a grand building.

Art and lots of it to the point of not being able to absorb everything accosting the senses makes us spend a lot of time in museums.

This is me recognizing how much time we’ve spent and how little we’ve seen when visiting a typical museum.

Much of the art and many of the sculptures were once part of the royal collection that was being amassed by the Habsburgs. I wonder what intriguing pieces of art are residing in private collections around the world that are being commissioned from the greatest artisans and craftspeople by the wealthy?

A great example of mandibular prognathism, a birth defect that was a distinguishing characteristic of the later Habsburgs. This protrusion of the lower jaw, which is often accompanied by a thicker lower lip and enlarged tongue, was passed on from generation to generation among the royal family due to a proclivity towards incestuous relationships and breeding.

Direct descendants of the Habsburgs are now extinct, though the name lives on.

This is just one of a thousand pieces of extraordinary stuff on display here that would take a lot more than a mere five hours to explore and truly appreciate.

I’d never seen a “bezoar,” also known as a gastrolith, before today; I didn’t even know they were a thing. These rocks, held inside gastrointestinal tracts, are also known as stomach stones or gizzard stones, depending on their location. Not only were they thought to have magical qualities, but they were considered good for health, too. So, to make a giant specimen into a piece of art, it must have had some serious intention and value behind it.

Tapestry Featuring the Arms of Emperor Charles V, produced under Willem de Pannemaker, Brussels, around 1540. Made of wool, silk, and metal threads.

I’m astonished at this bust of Isabella of Aragon by Francesco Laurana that was sculpted back in 1471 as there is something so lifelike, soft, and tender as though it were a cast made just recently. If I owned this, I’d follow the lines that the sculptor put down just to feel how someone with such an incredible gift might have felt the shape of Isabella’s face as it joined a kind of immortality.

Remember those pieces from Klimt at the beginning of this entry? They were commissioned to bring attention to the Egyptian exhibit that was going to be a permanent part of the collection. We didn’t do justice to seeing anything here, especially the antiquities out of Egypt, as we more or less ran through this part of the museum. What our visit helped cement is that we need to return to Vienna to pay proper tribute not only to this museum but the dozens of other museums we couldn’t visit during our stay.

Across the way opposite the Kunsthistorisches Museum is the Natural History Museum which we did not take the opportunity to visit today, but it is on the list of places to return to. Others on that list include but are not limited to: Vienna Undertakers Museum, Johann Strauss Museum, Schottenstift Museum, Schönbrunn Palace, Österreichische Galerie Belvedere, Museum of Ethnology, Museum of Art Fakes, Liechtenstein Garden Palace, Leopold Museum, KunstHausWien, Haus der Musik, Globe Museum, Chimney Sweep Museum, Beethoven Pasqualatihaus, Arnold Schönberg Center, and the Old Vienna Schnaps Museum to name a few.

Caroline takes a moment to pose with fellow Frankfurter Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Other than being a literary hero in German-speaking areas, I couldn’t find out precisely what the connection between Goethe and Vienna was.

Welcome to the Imperial Crypt, also known as the Capuchin Crypt. This is the final resting place of 145 members of the House of Habsburg.

This is Emperor Charles VI and the sarcophagus that should house his remains well into the future. Not only was he a Holy Roman Emperor, but he was also King of Bohemia, King of Hungary and Croatia, Serbia, and Archduke of Austria. His coronation was in Frankfurt, Germany, back in 1711.

Veiled face on the sarcophagus of Holy Roman Empress Elisabeth Christine of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, German Queen, Queen of Bohemia and Hungary, and Archduchess of Austria by her marriage to Emperor Charles VI.

Tomb of Empress Maria Theresia of Austria with the tomb of Emperor Joseph II in the foreground. Born Maria Theresia Walburga Amalia Christina on 13 May 1717, she was the only female ruler of the Habsburg lands. She was the sovereign of Austria, Hungary, Croatia, Bohemia, Transylvania, Mantua, Milan, Lodomeria, Galicia, the Austrian Netherlands, and Parma. By marriage, she was Duchess of Lorraine, Grand Duchess of Tuscany, and Holy Roman Empress.

Archduchess Maria Theresia Elisabeth Philippine Luise Josepha Johanna was only eight years old when she died in 1770. She was the daughter of Holy Roman Emperor Joseph II. This crypt is a once-in-a-lifetime look into a kind of burial opulence not often seen and rarely done today.

This is the outside of St. Michael’s Church  (whose interior was part of yesterday’s blog entry). Fortunately, the need for Sachertorte overcame our need for another visit. Plus, we knew that the Demel would close early, and we were not going to risk missing the tasting of the competing recipe for the most authentic Sachertorte.

So what’s the verdict? The truth is that we both thought the Sachertorte at the Sacher was somewhat better. The torte here at The Demel was a bit dry. Does that make it worse? Not by a long shot, and we would gladly enjoy a slice from either baker at any time. The idea that we are so spoiled to even begin to try both of them is already a privilege not lost on us.

The Schottenkirche or Scots Church is another in a series of splendid churches worthy of a visit. I’m nearing the point where I could say that I’ve never visited a European church I didn’t like.

The Votivkirche, or Votive Church, owes its existence to the attempted assassination of Emperor Franz Joseph in 1853. The Emperor’s brother Archduke Ferdinand Maximilian started the campaign to build the church to thank God for saving the Emperor’s life. The successful assassination of his nephew, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, in 1914 was the spark that started World War I. It was also right here after taking this picture that my foot caught an exposed root and planted me flat in the dirt. With a quickly swelling and bleeding knee and some scraped knuckles, I headed back to our apartment to see if we could find some bandages to tend to my unsightly open wounds.

Patched up with supplies from our Airbnb, with a limp and a bit of pain, we made our way back onto the streets of Vienna.

A peek at one of the Lipizzaner horses in the Spanish Riding School Stables.

A look at the cuts of meat from an ordinary steer printed on the plate of where we are dining tonight. Caroline is pointing out that a lot of the terms are specifically Austrian.

Plachutta claims to have the most famous Tafelspitz in the world, they are most likely correct and not exaggerating a thing. Tafelspitz came to prominence back when Emperor Franz Joseph stated the dish was his favorite meal. There’s an art to eating this, and while the servers are great at helping those of us new to Tafelspitz, their website can show you the art well before you make your reservation. Check it out by clicking here.

It’s just before midnight before we arrive back at our apartment following our two-and-a-half-hour dinner. Now that City Hall is once more bathed in its traditional lighting, we enjoy that we had the chance to see it lit in the many festive colors during the Life Ball. We are in love with Vienna.

Our apartment on Josefgasse was about a five-minute walk away from City Hall and 10 minutes to the Volksgarten and its beautiful roses.

During our stay here in Vienna, I’d estimate we will have walked by one corner or the other of the Hofburg Palace more than a dozen times. While you are here, I dare you not to take a hundred photos of the palace as in every light and time of day; it creates spectacular views that leave you in awe.

An entire train length of fiaker taking their passengers on a tour of the inner-city of Vienna. Caroline and I eschew these kinds of experiences as they too often feel cliched. While we appreciate that they are still available and that the tradition continues, maybe we’ll change our mind when walking through these areas becomes too difficult, and on one of those visits, we’ll get on board and see if we were wrong the whole time.

Yesterday, when we stepped into St. Stephen’s Cathedral, it was too late in the day to head up the South Tower. This morning, we wanted to beat the crowds and made it our first stop. The narrow circular stairway climbs 343 stairs to ascend the 67 meters to this view. The hike up is in one of the tightest spaces I’ve gone up, but the view from above is worth the minor effort. My image is skewed due to me only traveling with my 17-55mm lens for the sake of my comfort, which means I had to take nearly a dozen images and stitch them together in Photoshop to achieve this panorama. There’s a wealth of data missing in this low-res version I’m posting, and if I get a couple of requests for a higher-resolution copy, I’ll oblige and post it.

I’m standing in the gift shop to take this photo in one of the rare moments someone wasn’t coming up or going down. With me currently weighing 235 pounds (106 kg), I’d say if you were somewhere closer to 275 lbs, you’d want to think twice about attempting this.

You don’t only find great views while looking out the windows; the texture of this old stone and graffiti from across the ages is also worth taking in.

There’s a transfer point while going up and down the tower, so the entire ascent and descent are not always in such intimate quarters.

Poked our head into the Church of the Brothers of Mercy.

We tried looking into the Carmelite Church, built back in 1623, but couldn’t gain access. So, while the photo is horrible due to being shot through a window, it does give a reference point to another church visited on our visit to Vienna.

Wollmeile may as well be a church as Caroline gets ready to perform a “Laying on of hands.” The question raised here is not, “Did Caroline buy wool?” but, “How much yarn did Caroline buy?”

This is the St. Francis of Assisi Church, and was on the way during our trek to see the main channel of the Danube during our stay. Along the way, we also passed the famous Wiener Riesenrad or Vienna Ferris Wheel that has made several appearances in films over the last seventy years, including the movie The Third Man.

The church is to be found at Mexikoplatz, which got its name following World War II when it was only Mexico that stood with the Soviet Union in protest against the annexation of Austria, better known as the Anschluss, in 1938 by Nazi Germany.

Like a fairy tale building encountering the work of M.C. Escher.

The walk was 3.2 miles or 5.1 km to reach the Danube. My imagination had this famous river running through the heart of Vienna, but considering how it is prone to flood, I see the wisdom of having built the city center well away from this otherwise romantic river. The bridge we are crossing takes us over to the Donauinsel (Danube Island), which is 13 miles long (21 km) and between 230 and 688 feet wide (70 to 210 meters).

It was established many years ago that if Caroline was encountering a body of water for the first time and the opportunity arose for her to doff her shoes and step into the sometimes icy, at other times tepid waters, she would get busy stepping out of her shoes and socks and dipping her toes in. She’s seen here feeding this beautiful swan some plastic packaging, which killed it about 15 minutes later. Just kidding, as though my tree-hugging environmentalist German woman would do a thing to hurt a creature. She’s sharing the dark rye bread we’ve been carrying with us since Condor Airlines dropped us off in Frankfurt. Our feet needed a break, and as much as we’d have liked to have walked back on some random street north of us, we opted to hop on the subway to dart back into town for lunch and a snack.

Cafe Frauenhuber on Himmelpfortgasse is not only one of the oldest coffee houses in Vienna, but it also hosted concerts by Mozart and Beethoven during its long history. Lunch for me was a traditional Wiener Schnitzel, while Caroline had sliced blood sausage with roast potatoes that looked an awful lot like eggplant parmesan.  Dessert was a yummy apple strudel with cream and a couple of cafe melange (Viennese-style cappuccinos).

Then, while we’re finishing our coffee, a naked lady walks by. Nobody is yelling at her, and nobody is running over to take her picture. Okay, so I scrambled to grab my camera in time to get a shot of her butt; had I been quicker, I suppose this photo would not have been safe for Facebook. A little ways past our cafe, a crew that had been photographing her gave her a wrap to get dressed in, and off they went.

Back to the Hofburg Palace and what might be considered, in retrospect, the first blunder on this trip. Just as we stayed away from the fiaker, we should have stayed away from Hofburg when we saw the crowds. Before you enter, it is made abundantly clear that photography will not be allowed in the Imperial Apartments and the Sisi Museum. However, it is allowed in the Silver Collection.

Often, I’ve thought that where photography is forbidden it’s because the museum or state wants to maximize the amount of revenue they can make from their expensive-to-maintain collection and the buildings that house it. In the case of Hofburg, I now believe the reason why no one is allowed to take photos is that the place is so crowded that they slow down as people try to snap images for their memories and their blogs; the pause would grind visitation to a halt. So why is photography allowed here in the Silver Collection?

Photography is allowed here because this maze is a gauntlet that visitors race through to get to the apartments and the Sisi Museum. There are thousands of pieces of flatware, silver, gold, and everything else that could accompany a meal both in a palace or on visitation to another Kingdom from across the centuries.

The quantity of handcrafted artwork that was used for piling mashed potatoes into, is extraordinary and makes one wonder if any of it was used on more than one occasion.

How so much has survived the centuries and invasions by Napoleon, revolutions, plague, and World War II is incredible.

In the cordoned-off Imperial Apartments, it is standing room only and the crowd simply pulses by in a constant push of moving in and quickly out of the hot and humid rooms. Security is an ever-present element, as are the security cameras that are watching us. I took these crappy photos with my phone held down by my belt to not bring attention to myself and the fact that I was trying to get a couple of photos to show the place we were visiting. Before we reached the Imperial Apartments, we had pushed our way through the crowds in the Sisi Museum. Unfortunately, we arrived at the same time as a huge French tour group, and it was impossible to concentrate or see much of anything while the guides were talking, and their captive audience blocked displays and walkways.

By now, I just really want to get out of the Palace. There has to be a better way of visiting the Hofburg that allows for a quality visit; maybe take a page from the people who operate Hearst Castle over on the California coast and limit the number of guided and timed tours.

After this, we were brought directly into the gift shop. Was it the naivety of youth that had us believing that gift shops had things that represented a place to such a degree that we wanted to pick up a memento that would remind us of our visit? Today the trinkets and gifts look as if they all came from the same group of factories in China, and every so many hours, the factory retools with designs representing the New York City Metropolitan Museum of Art, followed by the Louvre in Paris, and then the Edwards County Historical Museum and Sod House in Kinsley, Kansas.

Much more our speed was this visit to St. Michael’s Church, one of the oldest in Vienna. Construction began almost 800 years ago in 1220, and after 575 years of alterations by 1792, it finally reached its current appearance and has remained unchanged since then.

The organ dates to 1714 and is the largest baroque organ in Vienna. According to Wikipedia, it was once played by 17-year-old Joseph Haydn back in 1749, and Mozart’s Requiem was for the first time performed here at a memorial service for the composer on 10 December, 1791.

There are a number of tours on offer at St. Michael’s, and if time allows, they all looked interesting but will have to remain unknown to us until we find ourselves on a return visit to Vienna.

Close-up of the high altar.

These frescoes were recently uncovered and dated to the early 15th century.

Back on the streets of Vienna, we have a date with a yarn store that must be visited today because tomorrow is Sunday, and it won’t be open.

The Ankeruhr Clock is broken. Though we didn’t know that it was broken at the time, we joined the crowd, and so we stood there with everyone else for about 20 minutes until we were certain that nothing was going to happen.

This is the Greek-Oriental Church, and it does not appear to be visitable, which is okay as we have wandered over to this part of town to visit a shop on the ground floor.

Yep, that’s right, there just may be as many yarn stores as there are churches across Europe. The truth is there are not that many shops, though ask a fiber artist visiting Europe if they wish there were, and I can nearly guarantee you that would be at the top of their list. We are at WolleWien (Wool Vienna) with Gertrud, the owner, who was terrifically helpful and friendly. We even learned a thing or two about Viennese culture from her and received a great recommendation for dinner at a nearby restaurant, Czaak.

Dazed from shopping for yarn twice in one day, Caroline tries to find her way.

That play on the drinking game never anticipated running into a city like Vienna; there must be a church every two or three blocks in this place. Welcome to the Jesuit Church, which is also known as the University Church. Built between 1623 and 1627, it was consecrated in its last year of construction. Then from 1703 to 1705, the church was remodeled into its current appearance.

Wow, how do we get so lucky? Another choir at practice works to make this church all the more opulent than it already is.

It’s nice to see ornate, heavy pews that grace a church, as I’ve noticed more and more churches with metal and vinyl seating that don’t complement the overall decor and sense of history in the most befitting way.

The Jesuits have a great website that goes into detail about the church that can be found by clicking here.

The organ was just dedicated in 2004.

Dinner was again enjoyed on an outdoor patio as the heat was too much to endure indoors. Tonight saw us eating at Beim Czaak serving old-style Viennese food since 1926. This is my first encounter with the classic Viennese dish Tafelspitz, or boiled beef Austrian style.

On the way back across the old town, we came across this relief depicting the arts of weaving and spinning fiber into yarn. The “Wollmeile” Street was the heart of the neighborhood that housed many weavers, dyers, fullers, and wool merchants.

While we won’t have time to take in the theater or a concert, it is abundantly clear that the city of Vienna thrives on an active arts scene.

Before calling it quits for the day, we find time for one more dessert along the way. Cafe Landtmann is known for its apple strudel and vanilla sauce, and we were going to have to try it. Since 1873, the cafe has been serving the public, and to demonstrate its popularity, it was packed solid at 10:00 p.m. and is open from 7:30 to midnight seven days a week. As we were enjoying our treat, we could hear the Live Ball event down the street and watch some of it (somewhat delayed) live on TV screens. The musical performance was a modern take on the “Sound of Music,” starring Conchita Wurst as the female lead.

Walking stats: 28,230 steps, 13.2 miles or 21.4 km. Climbed 42 floors.