And Speaking of Epicurean Delirium...

...today I was indulged with a stroll through the Naschmarkt, one of Vienna's best food markets. We had set out originally to view the Spanish Riding School and all its pretty ponies, but the guided tours were sold out, and we "tourists" are not permitted to roam about willy-nilly. Alas, another time.

So we wandered over to view Stephansdom instead and stood in awe at the workers at the very top of the highest spire, steam cleaning the architecture.  I'll take their word that the view is beautiful from up there.

The steady stream of visitors in and out of the church did not inspire us to enter, but walking all around the structure gave us a chance to view the story boards and photos of the cathedral from its construction through post-WWII reconstruction after Allied bombing, and now through its restoration.  I seem to recall the restoration being underway in 1999 when we were here--that's something else to check once the sea freight arrives with my photo books.

On the far side of Stephansdom, 180 degrees away from the tourists was a pretty little flower shop.  The small water lily pond inspired me to create one for the terrace of our new house, until I was reminded that Clayton Theodore would either drink the water or dig in the bowl until the water was splashed out.

From Stephansdom we window-shopped along Graben toward the Naschmarkt, "Die kulinarische Herz Wien."  Spanning a 1.5 kilometer length are stalls filled with not just everything a cook needs, but everything a cook wants, and more. I was giddy with every step I took. At times I felt like Clayton Theodore must feel these days, my sniffer working overtime to catalog the magnificent aromas coming from every direction.

A stall of fresh herbs. I snuck a pinch of the rosemary and savored the heady smell. Anna Grace, on the other hand, was compelled to dive right into the crisp green basil plants.

A few steps down the lane and I was transported to an old world spice bazaar. Colorful rows of salts, herb blends, and curries made me anxious for the arrival of my cookware. Perhaps a Middle Eastern mezze plate dinner in the wine cellar is in my near future?

To appease myself I purchased a small sack of rose water Turkish Lokum, and enjoyed every sticky, floral-scented bite.

Some stalls sold very appealing foods, like this rotisserie chicken stall.

Some stalls did not sell very appealing foods, like pickles floating in gray briny water.

And some stalls sold dizzying arrays of foods, like this home brewed vinegar stall. Blueberry vinegar, anyone?  How about cucumber?  Or lemongrass?  It will easily take our entire time in Vienna to sample everything!

Not in the mood to cook?  Well, the market still has you covered. Austrian specialties, or perhaps Kofte kebabs?  Maybe it's Asia Time, or something more specific like Vietnamese?

Or perhaps you're feeling adventurous for the fresh, choose-your-own eel?

Welcome to Our House!

In case you hadn't figured it out, Schloβ Schonbrunn was not our real home.

This is our real home, the yellow home on the left.  A 100+ year old former vintner's house in the charming Grinzing area of Vienna. The house has over 250 square meters of living space over three levels, a remarkable find in almost any European city.

The main salon is graced by two elegant chandeliers and a fireplace to keep us warm during the winter. 

The terrace room has a western exposure, and a perfect place for Clayton Theodore to warm his spotted belly in the sun.

In between are the bedrooms and bathrooms, as well as TWO KITCHENS. Can this house get any more exciting?  Well, yes, it can.  The second kitchen is located in the lower level, adjacent to the WINE CELLAR!  I am going to be living in a house with a wine cellar and TWO KITCHENS. I am swooning with epicurean delirium. Dinner parties! In the wine cellar!

The keen-eyed reader might note that this looks much like the very first house we spied, the one with no bedroom windows. This is the very first house we spied, way back in March. While going through real estate listings after the first housing fiasco I caught a photo of this wine cellar, along with photos of the bedrooms that showed small windows, yes, but also showed very large skylights. In fact, the entire upper level is flooded with light!  So we contacted the owner, and as good karma would have it, the house was still available.  I guess it was meant to be.

We've Found a House!

After weeks (that seemed like months at times) we finally found a home!  Want to see?

Look!  Our home has its own station on the U-Bahn.

Let's start with the garden.  There's some pretty flowers.

The view from the garden needs the wide angle lens.

And a large fountain. Cletus would like that.

At the far end of the property is a Gloriette.  I think it would be a delightful place for barbecues and sleepovers for the children.  The view from up there is enchanting.

There's also a Labyrinth and Maze to keep the sleepover guests occupied.  We'll save the Zoo and the Orangerie and Rosarium and the host of other amusements for some other time, however. We wouldn't want to share everything and ruin the fun for our guests.

We're home!  I sure hope IKEA delivers!

Tourist Time: Die Naturhistorisches Museum

Saturday dawned rainy with the promise of sun and mild temperatures later in the day, so we decided to investigate the Natural History Museum.  Anna Grace was surprised that there was a fee (she has grown up on a diet of Smithsonian museums, after all), and more surprised that there was no bag check. What there was instead, was a collection begun over 250 years ago (!) housed in a grand and beautiful structure.

We toured the museum a la Musee d'Orsay style, that is, we started from the top floor and worked our way down. At the top was a temporary exhibit of "Arctic dioramas" that seemed like it should have been on the other side of the Museum Quartier at the art museum.

Apparently this moose, lacking opposable thumbs, unsuccessfully attempted to procure a bottle of red wine from the shelf of the local arctic beer and wine store. 

The Vogel Sammlung (and most of the museum, for that matter) was decidedly old-school, much to my happiness. Call me old-fashioned, but I like museums where there are cases of nature to look at without the distraction of hands-on interaction or subject matter electronic education booths. Wandering up and down the aisles, looking at this bird or that, was just plain fun.  Besides, one doesn't need an interactive screen to imagine what Mrs. Peacock might be saying to Mr. Peacock.

The Gems and Minerals were all lined up neatly in several rooms. An OCD dream.

The Animal Kingdom was arranged by Class.

To move between collections one moves through beautiful hallway after beautiful hallway.

All this art, nature, and architecture for a mere €10. We capped our visit with a light meal in the rotunda cafe to enjoy a little Austrian/Italian fusion fare: two cups of Rindsuppe and a shared pesto bruschetta.

Vienna...or NYC?

Today we played tourists and headed to Stephansplatz. No plans to overdo it in the Museum Quarter, not in the mood for Palace Perusing, and no real agenda. We just wanted to be in the heart of it. Oh, wait, that's New York.  Isn't that where we were?

Of course not!  Anna Grace reminded me that we boarded the S-Bahn, not the Midtown Express.

Our first stop today, even before boarding the train, was to purchase two umbrellas as insurance against the forecast 90% chance of rain and thunderstorms. 'Twas good insurance, as the clouds gave way to blue skies and sunshine for most of the day!

Stephansdom provided a lovely backdrop for photos.  For the next three years I've promised myself to actually be in front of the camera more often rather than behind.

Perhaps on the next outing.

Crowds abounded everywhere, except for this quiet little street. Maybe they need a Starbucks?

Anna Grace was wowed by the Spanish Riding School. I think she was expecting something more on the order of her barn. Note, of course, the renovation underway.  It wouldn't be a trip to three years in Europe without something under renovation!

On the way home we were waiting for the tram at a stop near an intersection of the "Vienna Beltway."  Hahahahahaha.

Wandering aimlessly without an agenda. First time in weeks, and it was sehr wunderbar.

Another House Hunting Post

For friends and family who have been following this seemingly never-ending topsy-turvy saga, I can report that we are almost, sort of, kinda, in the home stretch. Although, if things go south with either of these properties, we may just end up in a fancy yurt in the Stadtpark.  I am an impatient person with these kinds of matters. 

We're still at the Derag, of course. Apartment/hotel living is interesting; now I know why Eloise had so much fun!  The people watching is tremendously fascinating; two days ago a busload of French-speaking AARP-ish tourists were disgorged in the lobby just as we came down to walk Clayton Theodore, and the heady perfume mix made him sneeze!  The last two days were hot (Vienna hit a record high!) and I've been astonished at how the Burqa-wearing residents of the Derag just carry on as if it were no big deal--pushing strollers, chasing their children, etc. I also watched a couple, the wife covered in her Burqa, take an evening stroll. Sweet, in that oppressive kind of way.


Very torn on the two favorite properties. It's like choosing between a teeny-tiny version of a European estate (high ceilings, crown moldings, porcelain fireplace (decorative only)) in a slightly more urban setting...

...and a teeny-tiny version of a country house (green space, wine cellar, two kitchens, working fireplace) in a more "suburban" setting, but even that's not the right word.

With the urban house, we have to share the backyard with everyone in the building, but can be to the park in 5 minutes. In the country house, we have our own green space and can walk 20 seconds past our yard to a common area with greenspace and a pergola to enjoy on pleasant afternoons (hahahha--do you like my delusions about leisure time?), plus we're just a few minutes from being able to amble through the vineyards, and from the park. Such is my First World dilemma. 

I visited the country house with the owner's mother, an absolutely, 100% authentic, old-money European Frau. The temperature that afternoon was in the 90s, and yet she looked fresh and crisp, with not a single micro bead of perspiration above her impeccably manicured brow. She told me how they had purchased the house 30 years ago because her husband was into wine, renovated the house but never lived in it because her husband was called to London. They had exactly one party in the wine cellar, with the doors open to the street, and people thought their wine cellar was a heurigen!  They invited a few people in, but then a neighbor called the Polizei, so she invited them in for wine, as well!  

We talked about cooking, and how heavy Le Creuset pieces are; how the second kitchen downstairs would be very useful for dinner parties in the wine cellar, how our teenage son would love the "suite" adjacent to the wine cellar, as that was their plan for their son before they moved to London.  Now she winters in the Cote d'Azur, and summers in her other Vienna flat (because it has a pool) when she is not at their London flat. She is in town now because her daughter (the owner) is moving from Moscow to Bodrum, via Brussels, so she will care for her grandsons while the move is in progress. She then took me on a tour of the Grinzing "village" and pointed out the preferred heurigens as well as her favorite place to buy flowers, and other important stores. As she was heading in my general direction, we rode the tram together, and she gently admonished me and said that I need to improve my German. And it didn't even sound like criticism.  

Two Bachelorettes and a Foxhound

We're living like bachelorettes; that is, I'm making Kasespaetzle with pre-grated cheese, and we're hitting up the Billa for sandwiches at lunch.  And I don't care how many orange Fantas my daughter consumes. We have fallen in love (in 36 hours!) with a type of sparkling mineral water labeled "prickly" for its effervescence. I figure the holiday will be over once our sea freight (or the boys) arrive, so we might as well have some fun.


My German is returning, albeit not as quickly as I'd like. I haven't said anything like, "My American is not good. Please speak slowly to me." in German yet, but it's only a matter of time.

Wicked, unseasonably hot here (33 degrees today!)  I've seen a lot more European skin than I probably should have. Even the oldest of Frauleins weren't sporting any support hose today. Yes, I know that image is one that will not go away easily. And to think I was worried about being properly dressed. 

On Wednesday we ventured out only until early afternoon, to stalk the neighborhood where one of our favorite flats is located, along with the closest park for Clayton Theodore. Then we retired to our Communist-esque apartment during the hottest part of the day. Care to tour our luxe accommodations?

This is the entry and "kitch" of our apartment; the space designated for cooking does not meet my definition of a full kitchen.  Obviously there is an AC vent directly above Clayton Theodore's spotted belly.

The living and dining space is a spacious 10 x 14; the two sofas convert to beds for the children, and there is a bedroom upstairs for us. Basically, there is no space. I observed our neighbors moving in yesterday with two portable "pack and plays" and wondered if they weren't putting their children on the terrace to sleep.  And, speaking of terrace...

Our apartment is on the 4th European floor, so we do have a pleasing view from the terrace. And we also have a trouser press. Or "HosenBugler."  I prefer the latter. 

The apartment has several quirks, if you will. A master switch must be engaged in order for the bathroom lights and the AC to run. We did not figure this out until after our first warm and stuffy night; the 8 page guidebook to the apartment discusses at length the various television channels and country calling codes, but falls a little short on routine matters.

The cooktop can only be used in 15 minute segments without resetting the timer. It's a safety device, of course, but still a damned annoying one, more annoying than having to wash the dishes by hand.

On the master bed headboard there is a built in radio that runs constantly.  There is no way, or I haven't yet discovered a way to turn the device off, only down low to a setting akin to a mosquito buzz at night. I've taken to sleeping at the other end of the bed, but I'm afraid that may prove a yoga challenge for Tony when he arrives.  I know, I know, I could ask about the radio at the reception desk, but see the second paragraph of this post and you'll know why I haven't. The guidebook doesn't discuss this, it's not a routine matter.

It's all part of the adventure.