[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Vienna, Day 2, Part 1

DAY 24 - SEPTEMBER 23, 2000
VIENNA, AUSTRIA - HOTEL DE FRANCE
ROOM 212

Half-day city tour of Vienna, shopping till 1445H. Great way to spend a morning, having time to wander all over Schonbrunn at my own speed. Heck, having time to wander over anything at my own speed is sheer heaven!

The day started with a good breakfast, people asking me where Ma and Dad were, and myself explaining that they were resting up after the long day and that they'd done Schonbrunn already. The same message was relayed to Lisa when we gathered for the day, and she informed our city guide, a nice lady, whose name escapes me now.

Dmitri was late with the bus for the first time on the tour - about five minutes or so. I spotted him at the corner of the hotel, where he'd parked the coach, but let someone else spot him as well and tell Lisa. I feel odd around him - a little more self-conscious about the way I act and speak.

I think this has its roots way back in the tunnel-counting competition, when Lisa said the winner would get to kiss someone - I forget now - no, now I remember. Lisa invited all the spouses to kiss each other when going through a tunnel, and she said she'd have Maureen as a partner and Jill and Shirley could content themselves with each other.

I was heaving a sigh of relief at not being singled out when Lisa wondered aloud who our poor coach driver would kiss, and Anna sang out that it should be me! Had I been well and truly alone, I would have been game - but with Ma and Dad present (and mercifully the banter was going over their heads), and Ma's attitude toward such frivolity, I strongly and vehemently declined the offer.

Since then, I've wished the wretched topic had never come up, because I've never looked at Dmitri in quite the same way again. He's a good, kind man and our friendship was - still is - on a footing of respect, for he's never treated me with anything but utmost courtesty. But now I'm always aware of the potential for teasing - and the one untoward remark that might set Ma off. Don't ask what it is with me and coach drivers - it was precisely one indiscreet remark on my first US tour that started a chain of teasing that set Ma off and reduced me to tears. I may have recovered from a wound nearly three decades old, but the scars are still there.

I'm glad I resolved the issue inside myself in Assisi, though - perhaps it was St. Francis and St. Clare telling me I was a foolish chit with a malicious mind all on my own. But I'd been worried that having to be so watchful over myself might have been picked up on by Dmitri. It was when we were loading the bags onto the bus - Ma had said something and he was singing some snatches of song, that I said it was always a good sign when the driver sang in the morning. He smiled and stuck out his hand, and that handshake has put the seal on our friendship. I was reassured that my internal conflicts remained internal and did not translate themselves into subliminal vibrations, to trouble others.

So while I still continue to be careful and discreet, it's more of a game now, rather than a care, to see how far we can express this friendship and not have others pick up on it. People have already grown used to my swift French banter when the trolley bags are loaded, and I never make the first move to speak with him, content to be in range and listening when others ask questions.

Having found Dmitri at last, Lisa saw us onto the bus, and we left her behind at the hotel. With our city guide we covered most of the ground Lisa had done the night before, but of course a city assumes a different mood in daylight. On our way to Schonbrunn, we saw the flea market in operation - where a person could have his wallet stolen and then perhaps be able to buy it back, sans cash and credit cards, of course. Some splendid examples of architecture were pointed out - like the building with the Art Nouveau frontage.

It wasn't very long before we were turning up the drive to Schonbrunn, and the beauty of that first glimpse of the palace put a song in my heart. It was another perfect day, with the sun shining softly down and a small breeze to make wearing my trench coat worthwhile. As Dmitri handed me down from the bus, I gave him my best German "Danke schoen", and the dear man replied with a proper German "Jawhol!".

With typical brisk Austro-German efficiency, our guide hustled us into the main drive of Schonbrunn, and the walk up to the entrance of the palace was just the thing to keep the chill from our bones. It was interesting to see how the system of whisking tourists through the palace seems to have changed since I was here last. They're strict - no pictures may be taken at all, even without flash, a sales ploy to get the tourists to buy souvenir books that weigh half a ton but are full of official photographs.

Maria Theresa was an impressive lady. The guide pointed out that she managed to survive the births of sixteen children, was happily married to a man who never gets mentioned beyond a passing phrase in the history books, promoted arts and sciences, and elevated Austria into a world power. All at the same time, and fighting chauvinist opinions all the way.

The state apartments are lovely. Not as rococo and overdone as the Palacio Real in Madrid. One gets the idea that Schonbrunn was as much a home as a palace - and the idea of Maria Theresa's children running around various unseen corridors is a feasible one. In one anteroom, the walls are literally covered with the drawing lessons of the children - one feels as though one has been given a glimpse of their copybooks. The walls are set up in a faux porcelain style, and each drawing has its own wood-simulating-porcelain border. In another room the guide had us look into a mirror set up to reflect the chandelier and its reflection in another mirror at the opposite end of the room. Result : an endless row of chandeliers, stretching to infinity. Another optical illusion was found by fixing one's eyes on the feet of the portrait of a Habsburg emperor as one enters the room. Keeping one's eyes fixed on the feet as one crosses the room, it can then be observed that the feet follow after your gaze - they actually seem to turn!

A little nook in one of the rooms was a breakfast room, set up as if the Queen/Empress was expected to dine at any moment. We was the state bed, with portraints of Maria Theresa and her husband flanking it. Since in the aftermath of birthing sixteen children, the Empress had to naturally spend a lot of time recuperating, she used this bed to receive her state visitors and ministers. But she never slept in it. Looking at the embroidery on the sheets and bedcurtains, I don't wonder - it doesn't look a a very comfortable bed to sleep in.

From the state bed, we were led to the anteroom of the souvenir shop and told we had about 45 minutes to ramble about the grounds to take pictures, or even attempt the ascent to the Gloriette ( a feat only advisable for the most fit among us, since it was a good quarter-mile away, and uphill!). The first thing I did was to heave over to the back entrance to the gardens, totally ignoring the souvenir shop; I planned on getting my souvenirs in the shop nearer to the front entrance, where we were all supposed to meet.

/...to be continued