Chasing Ideals

Not a whole lot to say about the activity of Vienna. The journey into and out of said city was fairly uneventful though I will say that I couldn't recommended driving there. The maze of roads in and around the center provide more than its fair share of headaches and I hadn't the energy for it. Lack of sleep the previous night and the emotional tiredness resulting from saying goodbye to more treasured relationships and experiences were the culprits. After driving round and round until all were dizzy I started stopping at the mere sight of "Hotel" until eventually we found one that provided the goods. Each time we had stopped Andy would head off into the night with plenty of questions for the hotel owners and I sat in the car trying to stay awake by reading about the histories of different languages. Needless to say I was bordering unconscious by the time he returned. It was sweet relief when finally the thought of bed and dreams of dancing dwarves became possible.

Our full day in Vienna was spent doing a bowel-bashing amount of walking that resulted in three days of moderate to "oh-shite this hurts" type foot aches. As usual we attempted to see all and then some that the city had to offer. Luckily the sites to see are all concentrated in a fairly small area when compared with the Sahara Desert or Amazon rainforest. The city was quite beautiful and the architecture grand but sadly my energy and motivation for sight-seeing has reached an all time low. It is a place best viewed when one's interest is peaked to ungodly levels because their is enough history there for further days of exploration and enjoyment. Even the ducks of Slovenia in all their splendor didn't get the type of photographic coverage from Andy that Vienna's finest received. He has studied copious histories and that provided a frame of reference for him to be able to enjoy it to a much greater degree.

When evening came and tiredness was heavily upon me it was decided (Andy being thrilled with this and I wanting dreams of dancing dwarves) that the Vienna Opera was the place to go. We had been told that standing-room tickets were a mere two euro and that was enough to get the wobblers going(at least early in the day). We made our way there and at the door were greeted by a scalper selling apparently "cheap tickets." I have never seen such a well dressed scalper but this was for the opera so I guessed that the usual bearded and beer-breathed scalpers of rock concerts had stayed at home. His "cheap tickets" were bordering the 40 euro mark and though some old lady next to us got giggly at the sight of the them it didn't inspire me and Andy compared with our 2 euro brand. We instead went in around the back to where some low-life and high-life students were already waiting in line. I say high life to describe some wearing shoes and clothes normally worn in yacht clubs and low-life for a chap nearby in his torn jeans and a girl in sprayed-on blue flowery britches. What a marvelous thing stereotyping is. After a long wait of standing and sitting (rather collapsing in my case) the booth sprang to life and we got our tickets and entered. Some more waiting and then we were brought to our standing bar(that is bar to lean against and rear-end-intruding step to sit on behind). A clerk then repeatedly explained to Andy in German that we had to take our coats and bags to the cloak room. The stunned and confused look on his face eventually cued her attempt at the English translation and so away we went to the cloak room.

The performance itself was worth the mustard in my exhausted state. I stood for as long as my quivering legs could manage and then plopped down on the rear-end-intruding step for the remainder. The sit down proved challenging as an old lady with considerable head size was blocking my view. She seemed to enjoy waving her head about in semi-circular motions so as long as I followed the motion I got to witness some medium percentage of the on stage events. Andy, though seemingly filled with boundless energy, missed one important aspect of our opera experience. He failed to notice the swivel translator next to his hands and so spent the entire time confused as hell regarding the plot of the story. I had seen and made use of the translator when standing but he apparently never noticed it. Though mesmorized by the show he hadn't the foggiest why the two large woman on stage were wailing and gesticulating and why their loves disappeared and reappeared in various attires. After Act One we decided to vamoose as the full extraveganza had another two hours on the way. It wasn't until after our departure that I understood Andy's dilemma in not understanding a feckin' thing and clued him in to the handy translation device. Two euros well spent all in all despite the long term results of that step where I spent the majority of my time.

The next morning after a fab sleep we said goodbye to this old town and began the trek toward my current local. We spent that night in Bamberg, a city I visited in the early days of this voyage. Our minds and hearts were set toward Koln and my fam here however so neither of us had a lot of energy for the place. It still remains perhaps my favorite of German cities for its culture and manageable size. One last thing I thought to mention here is a dilemma that Andy may not soon forget. I on many of these long drives and late evenings was prone to the giggles as only a teenage girl watching Justin Timberlake videos could match. I'm not sure if 'twas the result of exhaustion or enjoyment but at times I could hardly contain the laughter save preventing us driving off the road. Between the "disinfections", Serbian border cavity searches, and burek soups I'm hoping that it was a result of enjoyment but at times I wasn't sure. I'm certain that Andy began to think his travel companion a bit of a lunatic in these moments. The incident I hope I don't soon forget is of driving into Plovdiv in Bulgaria singing over an over line 1 of "Hello" by Lionel Ritchie. The line that goes "Hello, is it me your lookin' for" seemed to spring to mind at the mere sight of St. Cyril's wondrous alphabet. I remember at the time getting the most ridiculous enjoyment out of that song especially as Andy tried to sort out where the blazes we were. Now that I have put the driving to rest for some time I'm hoping the sanity returns but that is yet to be seen. Anyone looking to hear a classic shite song should get a hold of that tune and play it over and over.