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.

I am navigationally challenged and other fun things.

Austin and I got up earlier than usual this morning to catch a bus to Karlstejn Castle, a hulking gothic structure commissioned by Charles IV in 1348. Situated atop a formidable crag an hour from Prague by car, Charles built the castle to safeguard his shiny things. Even during the Hussite wars (a religious war between Catholic czechs and the followers of Jan Hus, a church reformer who beat Martin Luther to the whole church reform thing by almost a century) and the Thirty Years War - the castle was never captured.

Like Something Out of Disney: The Magic Happens Here

Just as interesting as the castle tour was the drive to it. Our driver, Milada, confirmed my suspicions that most Czechs live outside Prague's center on account of expense, opting instead to live in one of the many art deco apartment blocks on the city outskirts. She also waxed poetic about Czech trends: how the biofuel industry is burgeoning and golf courses are "coming like mushrooms" to accommodate the growing wave of Czech businessmen.

Upon arriving back in the city, Austin and I set out to find this delicious bakery in the Jewish Quarter, where Jared took us to buy cakes yesterday. I had the cross streets, and even asked several people for directions but after about 15 minutes Austin and I were too famished to keep searching and settled on a character-void pizza place. Granted my hippocampus is the size of a shriveled raisin from relying on GPSs all the time, but I find Prague nearly impossible to navigate.

Prague's streets were likely mapped by a flock of headless chickens. They are nonsensical - zigging here, zagging there, and often resulting in dead ends. To make matters worse, the street names are incomprehensible. Even if you know you're going to Bratancu Veverkovych street, for example, YOU try pronouncing that well enough that a local understands you. As much as I complain, it must have been much harder to get around a few centuries ago when the streets had no names. Instead of street names, storefronts and restaurants differentiated themselves by painting different symbols - usually some sort of color + animal, such as "golden snake", or "white rabbit "- above their doors.

After a feast of pizza and more than a few circles, we finally found the Jewish Quarter. We were too tired to really give the old synagogues the time they deserved, but we did wander into the Spanish Synagogue. From the outside we weren't expecting much. The building's exterior is drab - a concrete block facade that could easily house a furniture warehouse. The inside, however, was breathtaking. Every square inch of the walls and ceiling was inlaid with in intricate mosaics painted in golds, rich blues and reds. It was like walking through a kaleidoscope (albeit with about 100 other gaping tourists).

Inside the Spanish Synagogue

After a lengthy nap, I left Austin in the hotel to go for a jog and thanks to my aforementioned directional incompetence, ended up literally and figuratively on the wrong side of the tracks. Instead of crossing the river to Malastrana - a chic neighborhood home to Prague castle - I made a wrong turn and across the train tracks in Zizkov, an area of Prague that according to one travel website still causes many Prauguers to "recoil in fear" at its very mention. Woops. It didn't seem that rough to me, but it definitely wasn't where I meant to end up, especially alone, without a map (sorry Mom and Dad!) On the upside, I got a close up view of Prague's monolithic TV tower and the black metal babies attached to it (because really, what building doesn't look better when decorated with gargantuan titanium tots).

To unwind from our day of missteps, I dragged Austin to the most safely fun place I could think of: the grocery store. Those of you who know me well will know that I have an obsession with quirky, and especially counterproductive marketing. Prague's Alberts did not disappoint.

CHOCO FREAKS

Ah yes, Choco Creeps. Finally, a cereal to go with one's morning dose of facebook stalking.

Anyway, thats all from me for now. Here's Austin:

Today we went to castle 45 mins from prague it was very big and old to on the top of a hill and fully furnished it was like 1,000 years old but really impressive for its time the best part was bridge crossing to top room their where great views

Hope you're all rocking out as hard as we are. Love, H&A.

Praguepost II

Thanks to two knowledgeable guides, today was much better in terms of getting off the beaten path. This morning Austin and I ventured out with a guide provided by the hotel named Paul, who had supposedly served in the Czech equivalent of the State Department. Our intended destination was Prague Castle but thanks to maintenance on the tramway, we had to take a circuitous route. All the better as it gave Paul time to tell us the following things:

1) 80% of the Czech Republic is atheistic. Apparently this percentage of non-believers was just as high pre-communism.

2) In the 14th century, a huge tempest flooded Prague, inundating most of the city. When the water subsided the cities forward thinking inhabitants decided to raise the entire city by two stories. Thus many of Prague's buildings have two or three floors of cellars.

3)Prague is home to the only example of the oxymoronic architectural style known as "Round-ish Cubism," which as far as I can gather has the same geometric logic as normal cubism, but is softer and more ornate.

Is it round or is it cubic?

4) Finally! The reason Prague is so ethnically homogenous: communism. I feel silly for not thinking of it yesterday. Until 1989, the Czech Republic (then Czechoslovakia) was a communist state and weirdly few people were looking to immigrate to a land of standardized gray woolen uniforms, rationed food, and negative fun.

5)Lastly, most restaurants really are geared for foreigners. It is only the very well-off in Prague that can afford to eat out on a regular basis, with most families eating at home.

Quick note: on the walk to the tram that would take us to the castle, it was hardly 10 AM but ice cream cones, pints of beer and wine bottles were ubiquitous at the many sidewalk cafes. Ice Cream for breakfast? Now thats a habit i could get behind. Also it is an incredible word in Czech: Zmrzlina. Nom Nom Nom.

After crossing the Vlatna on the ever-clogged Charles Bridge which despite its beauty has earned itself the title of "Haley's least favorite spot in Prague" on account of being so jammed, we jumped on one of the city's many trams and wound our way up the hill behind Malastranska (literally meaning lesser-city, poor Malastranskans) to the castle. The castle complex, where the Czech President still works is unfathomably huge (bigger than 7 football fields) and contains dozens of buildings with different functions. First, there is the actual castle which has served to house the country's governmental offices since the Bohemian empire in the 9th century. 9th Century!

Austin in front of the door where the President welcomes his most important guests. I told him to look important. This is what I got.

Then there are the archbishop's offices, the bishops office, several churches and cathedrals, lush gardens and grand banquet halls. My favorite portion was the hall now used for coronations where they used to host jousting matches. The room was architecturally breathtaking - a fusion of foreboding gothic and richly decorated renaissance - with huge tiled windows. Imagining horses galloping up and down, clad in gilded tapestries representing their patrons, was enough to make my head explode.

Vladislav Hall

The cathedrals, especially the one dedicated to St. Vitus, were also sights to be seen - with copious gilding and intricate masonry. Though it wasn't fully completed until the 1800s, work began on St. Vitus' cathedral in the 1330s, approximately 130 years before the Incas built Machu Pichu . Obviously both plans are impressive feats of engineering with their own challenges, but in terms of architectural imagination it the Europeans were leaps ahead. I make this comparison only because it helped me conceive of how inspiringly complex the buildings in Prague are for the time that they were built.

Upon our descent from the castle complex Paul pointed out the Czech Foreign Ministry and the window of the office he used to work in. He also pointed out the pub across the street where he and his colleagues went "once or twice a day", correcting himself "well, at least twice a day."

After taking the subway under the Vlatva back to Wenceslas Square, Austin and I bid sbohem to Paul. We found an unassuming pizza place and stuffed our faces, hungry from the busy morning. Portions are surprisingly humongous here and after polishing off a pizza, chicken dish, and side of potatoes Austin and I fell into a deep food-coma. Nothing a quick nap couldn't fix and luckily our hotel was right across the street. After a few ZZZ's we trekked to Frank Gehry's building where we met our second, unofficial, tour guide Jared, a friend of mine from Yale.

Fred and Ginger? Is that you?

We spent the better part of the afternoon just wandering Prague's streets (which were blessedly quieter than where we'd been walking in Old Town), stopping off at Lennon's wall and the Jewish Quarter which Austin and I plan to revisit tomorrow. It was really nice to catch up and hear his musings on Prague, having been here for two summers.

Emo

It's getting late here and Austin and I are waking up early to catch a bus to Karljsted castle. I'm going to go get ready for bed and turn this post over to the legend himself, Mr. Austin Cohen, everyone:

Well i thought today was amazing - the buildings the river and the dancing building were amazing. But beware the streets are so slippery, you slide into the street alot. Also, a car driving too fast almost ran us over, we did not see it. People drive so fast here.

That's all for now. Night all!

-H & A

This made me chuckle.