Penultimate Post

Austin and I just got back from a delicious Turkish feast and I can feel the food coma hitting my fingers. Must. Type. Fast.

Actually, before I start into the day's events, a note on the Turkish presence in Berlin. In the 1950's unemployment skyrocketed in Turkey while Europe saw a major labor shortage. The construction of the Berlin Wall in 1961 further exacerbated the shortage in West Germany, prompting the West Germans to formally recruit Turks. Initially the Turks were to serve as temporary guest workers, staying in Germany for no more than two years, but desperate German employers quickly had the limit thrown out. Ever since, the Turks have comprised Germany's largest ethnic minority, currently numbering over 4,000,000. Needless to say it is not hard to find Pide in Berlin.

We began today with a stroll to Checkpoint Charlie, one of the few crossing points of the Berlin Wall during the Cold War. The area's history was interesting to think about in the abstract, and read about on the informational billboards across the street, but the checkpoint itself was disappointing. The scene: McDonalds to the right. Starbucks to the left. Tourists shucking out Euros left and right to get their pictures taken with actors dressed in military uniforms standing in front of a replica guard house. I'm glad that the wall was destructed and all, but since 1989 Checkpoint Charlie has sadly morphed into Checkpoint Cheesy.

Checkpoint Sign

Checkpoint Charlie

Our second destination, the Reichstag, was just as clogged with tourists but much more interesting to look at. Originally constructed in 1894 to house the parliament of the German Empire, the Reichstag has been set fire to, bombed, reconstructed, and shrouded like a carcas, before Norman Foster finally renovated the building in 1999, affixing the roof with a glass dome.

Dear Norman Foster, excuse me, Dear SIR Norman Foster: I love you. Lets marry.

The result is truly delicious - a perfect blend of imposing neo-classical heft and weightless, translucency. In perhaps the saddest turn of events of the trip, impossibly long lines prevented us from traveling up into the dome, but this is what it would have been like.

Building Across from the Reichstag. The area is a veritable feast of modern architecture.

Now I would like to dedicate this last bit about our trip to the Gemäldegalerie (say that 5 times fast) to the one and only Alexander Nemerov, Art History Professor Extroirdinaire. A self-proclaimed "delicate flower", Nemerov's cannot stomach people breezing through museums. In his world, patrons would entire museums youthful and clean-shaven and exit grayed with bushy beards. He rues the folks who show up to see the Mona Lisa, snap a picture, and split. Accordingly, I dedicate this shot to him.

Jan Vermeer in the Haus!

Though Nemerov-baiting is one of my favorite sports, I promise I didn't just run through the Gemäldegalerie's hallowed halls checking paintings of interest of a list. In fact, we spent the better part of our day winding through the museums 40 some-odd galleries. I found it especially interesting to see the more detailed paintings we'd learned about in class like Bruegel's Dutch Proverbs. The moralistic canvas, which portrays a world gone topsy turvy, is dense with symbolic elements too detailed to glean from an internet rendering. My favorite new finds: a footed egg in the oven, a man airing his buttocks out the window, and a man trying to catch an eel with his bare hands.

I also enjoyed trying to guess the artists of paintings before looking at the placards. Sadly the rubrics I created to study for our 200 slide final - "Ah, its headless, must be Caravaggio!" and "Ah its got a rich color palate, must be Titian!" - didn't hold water in the real art world.

We have to catch an early flight (can't believe it's over!) and I'm absolutely zonked. My thoughts are becoming like the Jewish Museum (zig-zaggy and filled with voids). I'm going to end here and update tomorrow with final thoughts and extraneous pictures.

Gemäldegalerie's Ceiling

Like a magpie my feet are drawn to shiny things - a proclivity that resulted in an alarm to blare. Shouldn't they warn you of these things?

Ich Ben Ein Berliner!

Internet crisis solved. The problem? The internet jack was not connected to the wall. The bigger problem? That we didn’t realize sooner.

Lots to catch up on as its been a busy two days. Yesterday morning we hopped a bus to Hellbrunn palace. About 20 minutes outside of the city by car, the palace was built as a summer day residence for Archbishop. Yes day residence. Read: No one has ever slept there. Kind of made me want to pull a Mixed up Files of Mrs. Basel E. Frankweiler just to be the first, but not enough to forgo Berlin.

Even if he was a spoiled brat, I found it hard to dislike the Archbishop for long, as he was also responsible for outfitting Hellbrunn with the oldest, most elaborate system of trick fountains known to man. The Archbishop’s favorite trick was to invite guests to what they expected to be a lovely alfresco lunch, seat them around his 8 person stone dining table (seven of whose seats concealed fountains) and soak them while remaining totally dry him self.

SUCKAS!

He also rigged the sculpture niches and decorative animal heads so that water gushed from them on his command.

Even by today’s standards the engineering of the fountains would be impressive. Placed in the context of their time, 400 years ago, it is truly awe-inspiring. The entire system operates on gravity. No pumps, no electricity, and it’s still running 4 centuries later. I can’t help doubt that we’re capable of manufacturing such durable products any more.

Dripping wet and happy, we wandered the extensive palace gardens and found a playground that looked out at the Bavarian mountains we’d driven through the day before. Though he deemed himself too old for the swings and see-saws, Austin couldn’t get enough of the zip line, zipping at least 10 times before we headed back into town for lunch.

Cowabunga!

Also in Hellbrunn Park: The locale of "I am 16, going on 17"

Although I wasn’t sure he’d like the art OR food, I dragged Austin to Salzburg’s Museum of Modern Art for lunch. I had mistakenly jogged there that morning and discovered that the museum’s cliff-side café had the best views of Salzburg I’d seen yet. The museum was also hosting a Max Ernst exhibit which I was eager to see after loving his “Master’s Bedroom” painting we studied in Nemerov’s Art History survey. The Ernst exhibit was almost too extensive. Instead of being enjoyable it was overwhelming, but I really enjoyed another exhibit meant to symbolize the randomness and influence of branding and the printed word.

Printed Word Exhibit. Title: Unity

Printed Word Exhibit

And then there were the pickles. Yes, an entire gallery of cast acrylic pickles created as self-portraits by the artist. Ah, modern art.

I Got a Pickle Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey!

I’m no Freud, but something tells me it’s not a good sign when you equate yourself with a pickle. Briny, awkwardly-shaped (Freud would have LOTS to say on this element), and served on the side – this artist could not have had very high self esteem.

After getting our fill of ceramic pickles we climbed to the café for some real food. It turned out to be delicious - the perfect end to the Salzburgian leg of our journey.

We arrived in Berlin last night around 8pm, and were too wiped to do anything but eat in the hotel.

Atop the Modern Art Museum

We more than made up for last night’s laziness today. Now faithful imaginary readers, I have a confession to make. Today, I, Haley Cohen, did a shameful thing. I purchased tickets for and rode on one of those horrific beasts known as hop-on-hop-off busses. Yes it was yellow. Yes it was double decker. And yes! Yes, it had headphones with 10 different available languages.

But please love me anyway! I don’t own any I <3> _______ (insert city here) shirts! I only wear fanny packs cross country skiing! I swear I’m not a bad person. We were going to do a walking tour but it was supposed to rain.

Although I couldn’t fully shake my feelings of self loathing, the bus was actually a very efficient and effective means for seeing a lot of the city in a limited amount of time. We opted to stay on for the entire two-hour loop, hopping off only once. This method gave us a good overall sense of the city’s layout and basic background knowledge about its most popular sights. Then in the afternoon, we went back to the sights we wanted to explore more fully, and used to bus to shuttle easily between them.

Our first stop was the East Side Gallery – paintings by 100 different artists on the longest preserved piece of the Berlin wall. I’ve always had a deep love for graffiti art. Not FUCK this, or FREE that in bubble letters, but well-thought out, skillful graffiti art. Needless to say I could’ve spent all day wandering up and down the 1.3 km stretch.

Third Wheeling with Brehznev and Honecker

But a bright beacon beckoned from across the street: the international sandskulpturenfestival! I can’t say I ever dreamed of attending an international sand sculpture contest, or even knew that such events existed, but I’m damn glad it was there. I’m always elated to learn of new professions. Chances are I wont end up a glorified sand castle builder (though I was quite talented at Gaudi-eque drip castles back in the day…) but things like the sand sculpture fest give me hope a niche exists for me, even if it’s unconventional.

Head in the Sand

After dumping the sand from our sneakers, we headed to Kaufhaus De Westens (KaDeWe), the 2^nd largest department store in Europe after Harrods. In addition to being a sartorial and gourmet feast for the eyes, the KaDeWe has an interesting historical narrative. It was opened in 1907, and subsequently bought by a Jewish-owned company in 1927. The company hoped to expand the store, adding two new floors, but the Nazi Race laws of the 30’s foiled their plans and forced them to hand over their ownership. In WWII the store was completely annihilated when a downed bomber crashed through the roof. By 1956 it was fully restored, soon becoming a symbol of the prosperity of West Berlin in relation to the communist East.

Though the history was a plus, in all honesty, Austin and I were at the KaDeWe for the chow. The stores top two floors are entirely devoted to any kind of edible you could ever want. I don’t say that lightly - it is an empirical fact based on my interactions with the guest services woman on the delicatessen floor. Do you have frog legs? Certainly, in the meats section. Oreos? Sure, section 4 on the bottom shelf with the Swiss Miss and microwave popcorn. Egg salad? Check.Spaghetti Squash? Yes mam. What about…coconut water? Of course, with or without pineapple?

The 6^th is more of a specialty food store with small restaurant counters interspersed, while our ultimate destination the renowned 7^th floor, is a gourmet buffet. We were too overwhelmed to choose one theme for our meal, and piled our plates to the sky with discordant pastas, cheeses, vegetables and meats. I had samplings from at least 15 different dishes on my plate and Austin wasn’t too far behind.

Heaven.

After lunch we waddled to the bus, and rode to the Jewish museum. Liebeskind's design, which connects to the old Jewish Museum underground, is marvelously thoughtful. The museums zigs and zags resemble a distorted jewish star and are meant to represent the dislocation and pain suffered by Jews in Europe. The large void at the front of the building is meant to represent their loss. Behind the museum sit 49 concrete columns topped with olive trees, meant to reference 1948, the year Israel was created plus one column for Berlin. The columns and floor are tilted at such an angle that walking through them makes one immediately dizzy and disoriented - an homage to the emotions of the Jews exiled in the Holocaust. One of the most moving parts of the museum, is the Holocaust tower - a barren concrete void where the only light and air comes from a small slit near the ceiling.

Jewish Museum: Interior Structure

Jewish Museum

Jewish Museum: Garden of Exile

Jewish Museum: Aerial View

The exhibits inside trace Jewish history from medieval times to the present. Many of them were delightfully interactive. One exhibit asked visitors to write down a wish on a paper pomegranate and hang it on a tree, another invited younger patrons to doodle with colored pencils (meant to symbolize the growing emphasis on Jewish creativity in the 20th century), and yet another computer-based game asked visitors to help medieval jewel trader Glinka pack her suitcase for a business trip. Though much of the historical information was familiar, there was enough fresh information to keep me riveted for the two hours we spent zigging-and zagging through the museum's long halls. For instance, did you know that denim was created by a Jewish immigrant from Bavaria to supply California Gold Diggers with a more durable work pant? His name, Levi Strauss.

Overall Austin and I have both loved Berlin so far. The city has an electric energy that's hard to resist, and the juxtaposition of old and new buildings, representing old and new ideologies, make it totally unique. It's fantastically sprawling (360 square miles to New York's measly 22) which makes exploring it on a time crunch daunting, but no doubt, worth it. But we have tomorrow, and guess we'll just have to come back...

How to shop for tyrants 101, salt mines, and fahrts.

A lot of people are hard to buy presents for, but evil dictators are notoriously difficult. What does one get for a person who by definition does EXACTLY what they want with no checks, balances or repercussions?

The Kehlsteinhaus (Eagles Nest in English) - a sizable chalet built in 1938 for Hitler's 50th birthday - was the Nazi party's attempted answer to that question. Perched atop Kehlstein mountain on the border of Austria and Germany, the views from the chalet are unbeatable.

Eagles Nest

Eagles Nest Again, Closer

Crystaline lakes, the alps, and the city of Salzburg are all visible from the structure's huge bay windows. But at 6,000 feet above sea level, the Eagles Nest was an ill-devised gift for a man terrified of heights, and Hitler rarely used the site except for his most important meetings. Although it was on the same mountain as his personal summer residence, records suggest Hitler visited the chalet no more than 10 times, usually for less than 30 minutes.

The combination of the Kehlsteinhaus' nefarious history and undeniable beauty made it an emotionally complex site to visit. We didn't spend much time in the building itself as it gave me the creeps and the best views were to be had outside anyway. After making a quick visit to the Italian white marble fireplace that Mussolini had gifted Hitler, we hiked up to the highest point of the mountain behind the chalet.

As I mentioned, the view is the most beautiful imaginable. Sharp crags poke up from grassy sloes covered in lilliputian purple and yellow flowers. Cottony clouds drift past lazily, obscuring the revealing the valley's spattering of azure lakes as they wish. But as soon as I found myself yielding to the scenery, I felt immediately guilty. Unthinkably terrible plans were devised on the same mountain where Austin and I stood. The scenery was not nearly as enjoyable when I thought about who's eyes had also seen it.

I am all out of sacharrine, albeit true, ways of describing the view from Kehlstein so Ill let these pictures complete the job.

After a quick goulash stop in the nearby town of Berchtesgarden, we made our way to the town's salt mine. There we donned jumpsuits a la Ghostbuster and descended into the shafts. The tour, delivered via audio guide was interesting, but to be honest i didn't retain much. Its not that I'm not riveted by air lifts or elaborate pump systems, but I was distracted by the hysterics of the German audience who got to hear the tour from a flesh and blood human. Instead of learning anything I didn't already know about our friend Na, I spent the tour wondering what the hell could possibly be so funny about salt.

Who ya gonna call?

The Shafts

At least Austin enjoyed his audio tour

It's been a long day, so we must bid you all Auf wiedersehen. Apologies for the shorter than usual, drier than usual post, but as you might imagine having left the hotel at 7 am and returned at 6:30, we are exhausted little kinder.

AUSFAHRT

Salzburg: Home of Mozart and his Eponymous Kugeln

We did not encounter any neighbors of relatives on this morning's train journey from Vienna to Salzburg, but the scenery more than made up for it. While the train from Prague to Vienna mainly passed through thirsty looking yellow fields and socialist style colonies, this mornings ride boasted rolling green hills sprinkled with sunflowers, chalets, and quaint villages. It was raining hard, but the rain only increased my attraction to towns. I have a romanticized view of the Austrian countryside as a place where life is simple - where there are no computers, no TVS and drinking, hiking and reading serve as the main forms of entertainment. Children are ruddy-cheeked, meals are hearty and people fetch milk daily from their own cows. Told you it was romanticized...We did pass a lot of cows though! Enough for every family to have one at least.

From the train station, we went straight to lunch, and from lunch straight to exploring. First we wandered down the Getreidegasse, Salzburg's main shopping street famous for the elaborate wrought-iron hanging signs hanging above each door. We didn't do any damage - the strip was dominated by chains and flavorless clothing stores - except to our teeth. For at the end of the Getreidgasse was Furst, a confectionary whose founder Paul Furst was the originator of the Mozartkugeln. The Mozartkugeln, named for Salzburg's most famous resident, is a perfectly round chocolate ball filled with pistachio marzipan and nougat. Which is to say it is disgusting, but then again I don't like chocolate OR marzipan so probably not a winning choice for me. Austin on the other hand loved his.

Post-kugeln, we walked through the Alter Markt square which was much more up my gustatory alley. Pretzels as big as your head in every incarnation imaginable: cheese covered, sugar dusted, dipped in chocolate and nuts, dipped in WHITE chocolate and nuts, salted, covered in ryeseed. Sausage and LOTS of it (the mexican wieners were significantly longer and thinner than the other varieties - an observation I'm going to try to avoid reading into). And of course fruit, veggies, and at least twenty different kinds of brot (bread).

After sampling a little bit of this and a lot bit of that, we took a funicular up to Europe's oldest and largest surviving fortress.

Hohenburg Fortress in Evening

The imposing white castle was established in 1077 (!!) by an Austrian Archbishop, and was expanded over the next 500 years to its current impressive size. When exploring old buildings, I have a habit of touching the walls and trying to imagine who had touched them before me. In this case, it was harder given the structure's varied narrative. In addition to serving its intended function as a safe haven and lookout, the Hohensalzburg fortress was used to house Italian POWs and Nazi activists during WWI before the Anschluss and as a youth hostel during the interwar period. It was thankfully untouched by the bombs and blitzkriegs of WWII.

Part of Hohensalzburg

View from Hohensalzburg

We should be hitting the sack as we're in for a busy day tomorrow. We're touring Salzburg's salt mines which will take us down into the area's century old-shafts. I reckon we're probably not responsible for directing the carts, but I feel we should be on our game if any bats fly our way.

Gute Nachte!

This photo of Austin's yodel-fest sadly wouldn't rotate.

Fast and Furious - Wien Style

Today was a absolute blur! We began the day unforgivably early at 9 AM with a whirlwind walking tour of the Stephandsom and its environs. The highlight was the area's namesake - St. Stephen's cathedral. Not only is the building gorgeous - with a chevron-patterned tile roof like I've never seen - but it is revealing. Construction on the building began in 1147, but almost nothing remains of the original. Instead the building exists as an amalgam of many architectural styles, revealing the tastes of the various rulers that added to it over time.

While stopped at a statue of a Habsburg emperor, our guide, Pier, also told us a comical story about the origin of the croissant. Many people believe that the croissant originated in Paris, he said, but not so! It was invented in Vienna after the Habsburgs defeated the Ottomans. They drew inspiration for the croissant's shape, from the crescent in the Ottoman flag. Supposedly it was meant to provocative, as if to say "Dear Ottomans, we are eating you for breakfast and washing you down with coffee that comes from your own empire. Love, the Hapsburgs"

Pier also insisted that Cappucinnos owe their origins to Vienna. They were invented, he claimed, by the sneaky Cappuchin monks. The Cappuchin's weren't allowed to consume any stimulants, but loved coffee - a dilemma that they solved by pouring steamed milk over their morning joe to disguise it. And voila - cappucinno!

All that talk of coffee made us hanker for some so we headed to Hawleka, one of the premier coffee houses in Vienna, historically popular with intellectuals. Supposedly lots of scheming has occurred within its smokey interior since its establishment in 1939. They didn't have decaf, and sneered at its mention, so Austin had to sit one out.

After a leisurely espresso, it was time to see the Lipazzaners at the Spanish Riding School.

Photo c/o Trip Advisor (I couldn't snap any good ones from our seats)

The true equine ballerinas are on summer vacation, so I resisted getting too excited but it turns out there was still a show, just of a different nature. Instead of a display of Piaffes, and other moves known as "airs above the ground," the Spanish Riding School offered a carriage show with a special guest appearance by the Lippizan foals and colts. The colts, a group of 6 stallions selected as theupcoming batch of performers, were hilarious. At only three years old, they are still trying to figure out a pecking order which resulted in much kicking, nipping, and snorting at each other.

After ooing and awing at the three month old foals they let loose in the arena, Austin and I made our way to Graham Greene's favorite Viennese haunt, Cafe Mozart. We ordered the restaurant's specialty - a dish called Taefelspitz that consists of boiled beef and root vegetables with potato, creamed spinach and apple sauce garnish. We split it, and even after we felt stuffed to the gills there was still enough meat left to sate at least a few Habsburg soldiers.

Taefelspitz

Garden at Schonbrunn

Garden at Belvedere

After lunch came the real maelstrom. Pier grabbed his car and we hit up two gardens (the Belvedere and the epic Schonbrunn, which rivals if not surpasses Versailles), the Freud Museum, Otto Wagner's Post Office Savings Bank, the UN compound, the Prater, and finally my favorite the Hundertwasserhaus. Designed by Hundertwasser as a socialist apartment block, the Hundertwasserhaus was meant as an homage to nature. There are no straight lines - for "straight lines are ungodly!"- the floors are undulating, and trees sprout willy-nilly from balconies, windows and the roof. The color scheme and materials, however, are less than organic with sesame street reds and blues, mirrors and glass dominating the facade. From what I gathered though, his point was less to make a building that could have come from nature, and more to show how the man-made environment can and should be reconcilable with nature.

We also drove by Hundertwasser's incinerator which was the quirkiest, most wonderful thing I've seen in a while.

Hundertwasserhaus

Hundertwasser's Incinerator

I really wish we had another day in Vienna. Today was amazing, but a little surface-level for my taste and I would have loved to have hit up the art galleries (they have amazing Bruegel and Klimt collections), as well as have walked more around the areas we drove through in the afternoon. Regardless, we did as much as we could with the time we had and had a darn good time doing it.

Tomorrow to Salzburg - the land of the Sound of Music!

Food for thought: Dinkels and some Hundertwasser quotes.

Dinkel. Such a better name than Pretzel.

On straight lines: If a lion is stalking you, or a shark is out to kill you, you are of course in mortal danger. We have lived with these dangers for millions of years. The straight line is a man-made danger. There are so many lines, millions of lines, but only one of them is deadly and that is the straight line drawn with a ruler. The danger of the straight line cannot be compared with the danger of organic lines described by snakes, for instance. The straight line is completely alien to mankind, to life, to all creation. It is a fiction that exists everywhere you live. Our whole civilization is founded on the straight line. The straight line came to humanity with the brick, with modular construction.

On being a responsible house-guest: "If man walks in nature's midst, then he is nature's guest and must learn to behave as a well-brought-up guest.

On dreaming: When we dream alone it is only a dream, but when many dream together it is the beginning of a new reality. (Ironic for someone vehemently anti-communist...)

A Wining Half-Day in Wien

View from the Train

We spent the better part of our day today rolling through amber grain fields on the train from Prague to Vienna. Let it be said that I absolutely love trains. Commuter rails, Amtraks, Eurorail - I love 'em all. Trains allow their riders to enjoy scenery in a way that planes definitely don't, and cars usually don't unless taking the time costly "scenic route." Perhaps because of the positioning of their seats, trains also facilitate conversation.

Our cabin mates this morning were a fun crew - a mother-daughter pair from Illinois, a guy named Rob who quit his 9-5 lobbying stint to travel forever, documenting his exploits in a blog called stophavingaboringlife.com as he goes, and a Czech man who read comics for the entirety of our 5 hour journey and never uttered so much as a Dobry den (hello). In an uncanny coincidence, it turns out that Dora, the mother of the mother-daughter pair, is immediate neighbors with my Uncle Steve in Glenview, a small suburb of Chicago. I exaggerate not. She said Steve is literally tending to her house while she's away. From then on, I couldn't help but look at my coach comrades as contrasting metaphors - Dora and her daughter for just how small the world can be, and Rob for how large it is if you resist myopia.

We arrived in Vienna at around 4pm and immediately hit the streets. Our only full day here is tomorrow so we wanted to make the most of our time. First stop: the Secession Building. Ever since taking Sandy Isenstadt's Architectural History class freshman year, I have been fascinated with Joseph Maria Olbrich's Art Nouveau pavilion. With its tomblike robustness and delicate gilded wrought iron orb, the building is strangely alluring.

Secession Hall

Built in 1897, Olbrich wanted the exhibition hall to serve as a physical manifesto of the Secessionist movement - a movement formed by architects and artists who wanted to distance themselves from the traditionalist Kunstlerhaus. The building serves the same function today, displaying avant garde light instalations, sketches and sculptures. The highlight is definitely Gustav Klimt's Beethoven frieze painted in the hall's basement. The 34 meter long mural is meant to immortalize Richard Wagner's interpretation of Beethoven's 9th Symphony, which hinges on the human quest for joy. This monster creature called Typhoeus below, symbolizes the opposite of that joy but also happens to be my favorite part of the frieze. With a gorilla body, snake tail, and blue wings how could he not be?

After the frieze, our other favorite exhibition was a series of sketches representing the questions in a big five personality test. The sketches were usually amusing and incongruous, like for example the artists interpretation of the: "I have been pretty successful in life" question.

This man has been pretty successful at fitting his mouth around large bushels of spaghetti: 8

DEEPNESS EMBODIED

After we answered all of the Big 5 questions for ourselves, we bid adieu to the Secession building and walked across the street to the Naschmarket, Vienna's largest marketplace. Imagine gourmet heaven (but literally, not like the one on Broadway in New Haven), then multiply it by...hmm...infinity? And there you have Vienna's Naschmarket. Rows upon rows of stalls serving up hundreds of varieties of bread (we sampled one covered in pumpkin seeds), cheese, cheese stuffed vegetables, meat wrapped vegetables, spices, kabobs, felafels, greek pastries, austrian pastries, sushi, chilly hummus, guacamole, every type of fruit imaginable...mouth watering yet? We tried a few things, but didn't go all out as we wanted to save room for dinner. Tomorrow we'll try to make the market into dinner, by buying a smorgasboard of yummies and picnicking somewhere. Either way, we'll be back.

Apparently these exist.

Austin was not a fan of the octopus at the Naschmarket.

Two more random photos from our afternoon:

Didn't realize there was ever a question of Kangaroos in Austria...

Austin thought I was weird for taking this but I thought it was cool.

Though we've only been here for a few hours, Austin and I are enamored with Vienna. It's lively, stylish, and diverse. Most neighborhoods are far lest touristy than Prague's, it's totally legit to bring your dog to a restaurant, and their candy stores look like this:

Vienna just wiens.