America Everywhere
Long after the Iron curtain melted in the heat of the popular uprisings against the Soviet empire, Vienna remains caught between two worlds. This is where Western Europe ends and Eastern Europe begins; where the Europe of the early 20th century nudges against the Europe of the 21st. This was where spies and diplomats met during the Cold War. Now it is a favoured spot for the international bureaucracy. A clutch of trans-regional organisations have their headquarters here—the International Atomic Energy Agency, the Organisation of Petroleum Exporting Countries and the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe, to name a few. The United Nations has a high-profile presence here, as does the European Union. Hence this supremely un-European experience on a bright Monday morning as one approaches a dapper man emerging out of a bank to ask for the way to Stephansplatz—the glittering pedestrian plaza in the centre of the city, lined with elegant shops. No cold stare at the English-speaking visitor. No unfamiliar shake of the head. Precise directions—crisp, short sentences in fluent English with a pleasant smile and an unmistakably American accent. Is the global village an American settlement?
Mozart and traffic lights
There are two instant indicators of the tenor of a city and its citizens—the urban pedestrian’s attitude to traffic lights, and the national icons the city fathers choose to immortalise at traffic intersections. The Viennese pedestrian displays an instinctive regard for traffic regulations. Even when there are no cars in sight, people wait for a green signal to cross the road. A far cry from the casual disregard towards the green man that is on display in most major cities. A far cry, too, from most Indian cities where statues of politicians gaze down on the passing traffic, or from most British ones where war heroes are immortalised in stone. Vienna chooses to remember its composers; Mozart, Beethoven, Johann Strauss and Joseph Hadyn are to be encountered at street corners and parks, staring serenely at the passersby.
Landscapes in the mist
The early morning train journey from Vienna to Salzburg is sheer poetry. The smooth swiftness of European trains; strange shapes of mountains through sunshine and mist; evergreen valleys suddenly dropping away; the glory of wildflowers in early spring; shimmering lakes; a flock of birds swooping noiselessly down on the water. Idyllic villages and peaceful little towns that appear and disappear in the silence of speed. And then Salzburg. This is not the high season for tourists—the famed Salzburg Music Festival begins in July. But music is everywhere in this city. At the entrance to the picturesque Mirabel gardens, a stone’s throw from the house where Mozart was born, a random group of Japanese tourists stop and listen to Matthias Irschik playing. Matthias is oblivious to the existence of an audience—he is lost in his music. He tells me he has grown up in Salzburg, has studied music at the local university and plays at the park every morning. His choice of instrument is interesting—he plays the harp.
Coffee nation
Why does the coffee taste so much better in Vienna than almost anywhere else? Could it possibly be traced back to the morning of September 12, 1683, when the combined military forces of the Viennese garrison, led by Count Ernst Rudiger von Starhemberg, and Polish troops led by King Jan III Sobieski, routed the invading Ottoman army from the gates of Vienna? A hundred thousand Turkish soldiers under the command of their grand vizier, Merzifonlu Kara Mustafa Pasha, were decimated. After the battle, the victorious soldiers found bags of an aromatic brown powder in the abandoned Ottoman encampment. Using the captured stock, Ukrainian nobleman Jerzy Franciszek Kulczycki—diplomat, soldier, spy and heroic defender of the city—opened a coffee house, the first cafe in Vienna. Some 332 years later, the wafting aroma still pervades the city. The Ringstrasse is dotted with cafes—scattered reminders of a Europe that vanished with the First World War. Shadowy interiors; deep, upholstered settees; elegantly varnished surfaces—light brown, dark brown, black; sunlight seeping in through window panes; the subdued murmur of a satisfied citizenry. And the coffee! Oh, the coffee!
Empire building
Why are former imperial capitals—Rome, Vienna, London, Istanbul—so much more architecturally interesting than the current imperial capital (Washington DC) or the aspiring one (Beijing)? The difference between declared empire-builders and undeclared ones?
Street food in Vienna...
is wonderful—the best “Wurst” you will ever taste is in Stephansplatz.
Sanjay Dasgupta is a journalist and author. He lives and works in London. E-mail your diarist: emailsanjaydasgupta [AT] gmail [DOT] com
