That lovely, dated, faded pink, beauty theme I was describing…

One of the many advantages of living in Europe, is that a weekend in Vienna is not so far off. I have always wanted to visit this city, which I missed on my first trip to Europe.
The Austrians are really obsessed with death and art and music. And mayonaisse. It’s quite beautiful. Not the mayonaisse part. When I arrived at the airport, I was suddenly taken back to the feeling I had of when I first moved to Paris. Not understanding a word of what was being said on the loudspeaker, being mislead by signage that all seemed to end in ‘-gasse’ and a familiar mix of ancient stone buildings and modern glass ones.

The beauty section of one small market posts ancient photos in faded colors, depicting the soft, tossled portrait of a woman c. 1990. She is wearing a pink sweatshirt. It’s so Euro.
I meet a photographer and his girlfriend for lunch. We met through the magazine and they give me pointers on where to go: Vienna is small and everything is quite central. The only thing that makes you feel lost is the language, but after you get a sense of where you are physically, you can pretty much navigate anywhere. I find a hostel and paid for clean sheets and a locker. I lock up my belongings and do not return until 3am. The 7 other travelers in my room are already deep asleep and when I awake the next day, they are all gone.

The reason for my late evening was that I had met some really lovely Austrians who invited me to a Russian dinner which turned into an evening of dancing and Stolichnya. One of them said I should meet her daughter who is a young designer also living in Barcelona. We ended up meeting at the Leopold museum the following afternoon and had lunch overlooking a vast courtyard full of children and half-napping sun bathers enjoying the premature days of spring.

A scene from our Russian dinner. Note: the guitarist was fake strumming his guitar the whole night as they did covers from Marilyn Monroe to The Doors. The man in the red t-shirt looks exactly like a guy from The Sopranos.

Vienna is smaller than Paris, and there are maybe even more beautiful buildings condensed into its small arena. The most beautiful church I have ever seen in my life was at Stephanplatz – its gothic carvings and two huge organs were breathtaking. The spiral staircase in the center of the curch was adorned with the carvings of snakes and lizards and rats and salamanders climbing up the stone banister.

The sun pours in through the window of a closed cafe called Pandora’s Box.

I had strudel and tea at the famous Cafe Prukel and was fortunate to catch the last day of the Egon Schiele exhibit at the Albertina museum. I thought about my grandparents who used to always take me to museums when I was a little girl. Sometimes I would sit and draw the works that I saw, sometimes I would moan from boredom. I have been to so many wonderful exhibits now all over the world – Los Angeles, New York, Paris, London, Barcelona, Berlin, Tokyo and now Vienna. It’s become a real addiction. A blessing.

I have been wanting to write for so long. I have so many new stories to tell. It will only get better now that the sunshine seems to be returning to Paris.
Stay close.