Today was truly about walking in my father's footsteps during the three years he lived in Vienna after the war. He rented a small room off the 'Rennweg' and took the cable car to his office in the city. He could not remember where exactly his room was, nor precisely where his office was. He worked for the 'Donauschwabische Arbeitsgemeinshaft in Osterreich' , which still exists and we found by walking miles along the Rennweg in the relentless sunshine to Steingasse. The offices were closed and we decided not to call the establishment, but just to sit in the courtyard and think about all we had learned over the past few days. Apparently there was an effort to initiate restitution for all the losses of the Donauschwaben, but the proposed process was rather unwieldly and few of the original Donauschwaben came forward to make claims. Instead there was an appeal for recognition of their losses, an official apology from the governments involved. The Hungarians had already made an official apology for their behaviour toward the Germans who were forced from their homes and sent away or to concentration camps.
My father describes his life in Vienna after the war as being limited to his room, his work, walking and reading in the gardens of the Belvedere, listening to music at the Musikverein, visiting the Albertina museum, and drinking and eating in coffee shops. Our day focussed on the life he had, and we had to keep ourselves from getting distracted and getting off track. Vienna is grand and imposing. Large boulevards and striking buildings and statues abound. There are massive palaces and museums and parks. On the other hand, there is an engaging intimacy unique to Austria, which one finds in the coffee shops inviting us in with all sorts of wonderful desserts. We started our day at the Cafe Landtmann, where my father remembers coming regularly for a break, to read the paper or a book and to enjoy the array of sweets. He has always had a sweet tooth. Our hotel is near the university of Vienna, and it is clearly a student area. At the Landtmann, we each chose a different dessert for breakfast. Karen tried a nut torte, Tara a cheese cake with raspberries, and I had Apfel strudel. Tara tried espresso with a mugful of whipped cream. It was a great way to start the day!
Our path led us through the Volksgarten, where flowers were everywhere, and the Hofburg, where I wanted very much to see the Spanish Riding School, but satisfied myself with a short visit to the museum store and a DVD playing with the horses practicing. We walked through the Kohlmarkt to the Stephansdom, and again were side tracked by a new museum showing the original Roman settlement recently excavated under the streets of the city. It was called Vindobona, and was on the edge of the Roman empire. I imagine my father would have been excited about seeing the roman remains, but once again, I was content with a short visit to the museum store, and later in our dry, we encountered an excavation which included some Roman remains, which was exciting to see, and certainly was not in Vienna last time I visited. I had to remind myself all day that I had been to all the museums in Vienna during my last visit, and that I would return one day again to catch up. Vienna is a museum in itself; just walking around is entertaining.
Karen had lived in Vienna in 1982 for ten months, so we found her apartment on the Judengasse, and visited Judenplatz and its memorial. We found two plague memorials, both baroque and painted anew. Stephansdom is a necessary stop. We found a noon mass going on, which was unexpected.
We were hungry again for dessert, so stopped at Demel cafe for more coffee and mohntorte. Tara had a healthy salad! We are having a true Viennese experience!
My father had told us that he visited the Annakirche on the Annagasse regularly, wo we had some moments of reflection in the quiet baroque interior. He walked along the Karntnergasse, so we followed his steps, although today the street is full of busy shops and tourists. Remarkable is that the entire inner city is a pedestrian only zone, and it is a delight not to fight with traffic. I don't believe I have ever seen such a huge pedestrian area in any other city. The buildings are all restored and well kept. Imagining that during my father's stay in Vienna, the city was under Russian control (until 1955), it was likely to have been far more grey and subdued. Vienna was always known for great music, and my father remembers listening to music as often as he could. He loved Beethoven and Wagner, Bruckner and Brahms. We did not plan a concert for the evening. Vivaldi was playing at the Karlskirche, and Mozart in period costumes at the Musikverein, but we could not decide whether to go or not, and ended up spending far too long later at the Belvedere, so we chose to listen to Mozart later in our hotel room instead.
We visited the Albertina museum, but the Durer collection was not on display; there had been an exhibition for four months until a few days before. We wanted to know what the museum was like when my father visited it. Maria Theresia's daughter had married a Dutch royal and had lived at the Albertina palace and collected works of art, which they left to her adopted son who had many children. The palace and collection were inherited by the next generation, but by then the inhabitants had to leave as a result of the end of the First World War. The collection was to be available to the public, but with the Second World War, a bomb landing in the courtyard and killing a thousand people, and later the occupation, the palace fell to disrepair, although much of the collection was preserved. Later, it was decided to open the palace as a museum, and the Vienna archives had documentation of every room and how it was decorated. Each room was painstakingly restored, even reconstructing each rug and furniture item. Over time, the curators of the museum have traveled the world looking to repurchase all the original items in the room. During my father's time, the rooms were grey and only the ground floor was available to visitors, but the collection was vast, featuring priceless Durers, which would have interested my father.
Our long walk down the Rennweg went on and on and on. We picnicked in the Belvedere gardens and enjoyed the fountains and statues. This was Prince Eugene of Savoy's palace. He was a nobleman in King Louis' court in France but was offended when he did not get the position he expected in the French military, so offered his services to the Hapsburgs and was instrumental in repulsing the Turks from Hungary. The Hapsburgs were so appreciative, he was lauded with gifts including beautiful palaces. Today the Belvedere has a great collection of Klimmt and Shiele, but we were too late for the museum, and appreciated the grounds instead. Tara and I practiced some yoga in front of the palace.
Our journey back to our hotel included a stay at the Karlskirche thinking about listening to Vivaldi in Venice rather than Vienna, hearing loud noises from the bars listening to Germany beating France in the World Cup, walking by a few Secession/Jugendstil buildings, which I find very entertaining, and appreciating the grandeur of this wonderful city, which we will have to visit again to see the museum collections, the Lipizaners, the palaces, and try more desserts.
I tried to think of my father following the war, after finishing his doctorate in Graz, working for an organization trying to find a way to bring his people back to their homes in the Batschka and the Banat but losing hope, and making the decision to leave his family and people and life and start anew far away. Vienna was likely a very different city at that time. Today it is beautiful and full of so much to see and do, so it is packed with tourists. During my father's time here, it was an occupied city, had been bombed and on the losing side of the war. Perhaps it was grey and defeated and despairing and difficult to feel hopeful about.
My father describes his life in Vienna after the war as being limited to his room, his work, walking and reading in the gardens of the Belvedere, listening to music at the Musikverein, visiting the Albertina museum, and drinking and eating in coffee shops. Our day focussed on the life he had, and we had to keep ourselves from getting distracted and getting off track. Vienna is grand and imposing. Large boulevards and striking buildings and statues abound. There are massive palaces and museums and parks. On the other hand, there is an engaging intimacy unique to Austria, which one finds in the coffee shops inviting us in with all sorts of wonderful desserts. We started our day at the Cafe Landtmann, where my father remembers coming regularly for a break, to read the paper or a book and to enjoy the array of sweets. He has always had a sweet tooth. Our hotel is near the university of Vienna, and it is clearly a student area. At the Landtmann, we each chose a different dessert for breakfast. Karen tried a nut torte, Tara a cheese cake with raspberries, and I had Apfel strudel. Tara tried espresso with a mugful of whipped cream. It was a great way to start the day!
Our path led us through the Volksgarten, where flowers were everywhere, and the Hofburg, where I wanted very much to see the Spanish Riding School, but satisfied myself with a short visit to the museum store and a DVD playing with the horses practicing. We walked through the Kohlmarkt to the Stephansdom, and again were side tracked by a new museum showing the original Roman settlement recently excavated under the streets of the city. It was called Vindobona, and was on the edge of the Roman empire. I imagine my father would have been excited about seeing the roman remains, but once again, I was content with a short visit to the museum store, and later in our dry, we encountered an excavation which included some Roman remains, which was exciting to see, and certainly was not in Vienna last time I visited. I had to remind myself all day that I had been to all the museums in Vienna during my last visit, and that I would return one day again to catch up. Vienna is a museum in itself; just walking around is entertaining.
Karen had lived in Vienna in 1982 for ten months, so we found her apartment on the Judengasse, and visited Judenplatz and its memorial. We found two plague memorials, both baroque and painted anew. Stephansdom is a necessary stop. We found a noon mass going on, which was unexpected.
We were hungry again for dessert, so stopped at Demel cafe for more coffee and mohntorte. Tara had a healthy salad! We are having a true Viennese experience!
My father had told us that he visited the Annakirche on the Annagasse regularly, wo we had some moments of reflection in the quiet baroque interior. He walked along the Karntnergasse, so we followed his steps, although today the street is full of busy shops and tourists. Remarkable is that the entire inner city is a pedestrian only zone, and it is a delight not to fight with traffic. I don't believe I have ever seen such a huge pedestrian area in any other city. The buildings are all restored and well kept. Imagining that during my father's stay in Vienna, the city was under Russian control (until 1955), it was likely to have been far more grey and subdued. Vienna was always known for great music, and my father remembers listening to music as often as he could. He loved Beethoven and Wagner, Bruckner and Brahms. We did not plan a concert for the evening. Vivaldi was playing at the Karlskirche, and Mozart in period costumes at the Musikverein, but we could not decide whether to go or not, and ended up spending far too long later at the Belvedere, so we chose to listen to Mozart later in our hotel room instead.
We visited the Albertina museum, but the Durer collection was not on display; there had been an exhibition for four months until a few days before. We wanted to know what the museum was like when my father visited it. Maria Theresia's daughter had married a Dutch royal and had lived at the Albertina palace and collected works of art, which they left to her adopted son who had many children. The palace and collection were inherited by the next generation, but by then the inhabitants had to leave as a result of the end of the First World War. The collection was to be available to the public, but with the Second World War, a bomb landing in the courtyard and killing a thousand people, and later the occupation, the palace fell to disrepair, although much of the collection was preserved. Later, it was decided to open the palace as a museum, and the Vienna archives had documentation of every room and how it was decorated. Each room was painstakingly restored, even reconstructing each rug and furniture item. Over time, the curators of the museum have traveled the world looking to repurchase all the original items in the room. During my father's time, the rooms were grey and only the ground floor was available to visitors, but the collection was vast, featuring priceless Durers, which would have interested my father.
Our long walk down the Rennweg went on and on and on. We picnicked in the Belvedere gardens and enjoyed the fountains and statues. This was Prince Eugene of Savoy's palace. He was a nobleman in King Louis' court in France but was offended when he did not get the position he expected in the French military, so offered his services to the Hapsburgs and was instrumental in repulsing the Turks from Hungary. The Hapsburgs were so appreciative, he was lauded with gifts including beautiful palaces. Today the Belvedere has a great collection of Klimmt and Shiele, but we were too late for the museum, and appreciated the grounds instead. Tara and I practiced some yoga in front of the palace.
Our journey back to our hotel included a stay at the Karlskirche thinking about listening to Vivaldi in Venice rather than Vienna, hearing loud noises from the bars listening to Germany beating France in the World Cup, walking by a few Secession/Jugendstil buildings, which I find very entertaining, and appreciating the grandeur of this wonderful city, which we will have to visit again to see the museum collections, the Lipizaners, the palaces, and try more desserts.
I tried to think of my father following the war, after finishing his doctorate in Graz, working for an organization trying to find a way to bring his people back to their homes in the Batschka and the Banat but losing hope, and making the decision to leave his family and people and life and start anew far away. Vienna was likely a very different city at that time. Today it is beautiful and full of so much to see and do, so it is packed with tourists. During my father's time here, it was an occupied city, had been bombed and on the losing side of the war. Perhaps it was grey and defeated and despairing and difficult to feel hopeful about.
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