Schnitzel, Schwarzenegger, Schonnbrun and The Sound of Music: A Week in Wien

Ever since watching The Sound of Music as a child, I've dreamed of visiting Austria. Having spent half of my childhood idolising Liesl, being unable to go to bed without a rendition of So Long, Farewell and years of wondering what schnitzel actually looks like, it was about time I visited the country which had inspired so many fond memories and family sing-alongs.

Instead of the sloping hills of Salzburg where the famous external shots of the movie were shot, we visit the capital - the authentic birthplace of the Von Trapp's story. This was where the famed matriarch, Maria von Trapp was born and where our holiday was to begin.

Expecting an Arctic wind and to spend the majority of our trip hurricaned in the middle of our scarves, landing at 10pm to 17 degree heat was a pleasant surprise, and one which rightfully attracted a few odd looks from locals in T-shirts.

 

 

We catch a taxi to our flawlessly chic apartment which boasts the perfect morning coffee spot - a balcony overlooking the city. A childish delight sweeps over us when we discover that our neighbour has the surname Schwarzenegger. Finding the Terminator next door in Vienna is probably the Austrian equivalent of seeing a Jones sign in Cardiff Bay and hoping it refers to Sir Tom. Yet, the hope of a Hollywood ending and getting to meet the muscle man in person keeps us amused all week. 

The next morning, fuelled on caffeine and a brioche loaf sourced by my father on one of his pre-dawn adventures, we head off to explore the magnificent metropolis around us. Within minutes of leaving the metro though, we're ambushed by millions of men in tights singing off-key renditions of operatic classics trying to sell us tickets to various concerts taking place across the city. 

 

 

We surrender to one man offering an evening of ballet, opera and an orchestra performance by the Wiener Residenzorchester at Palais Aursperg, and take shelter in a patisserie to map our escape route out of the firing line of the pretend Pavorttis.

 

 

After more coffee and a taste of the Viennese signature cake, sachertorte, we head for the Museum Quarter where tourists can mingle in peace with the neighbourhood's arty folk. We enjoy the interior design hubs, book shops and bask in the springtime sunshine in the courtyard over fantastic food.

Being part of a family uneducated in contemporary artistic statements, most of our amble around the exhibits at The Museum of Modern Art consists of pulling perplexed faces and stifling laughter.

 

 

The highlight of the visit was my father being told off for standing on a piece of masking tape on the floor which purported to be a piece of art. He voluntarily escorts himself off the premises and bids us farewell with, "I clearly do not belong here." My mother, sister and I continue to look around, but our sensibilities are soon offended by the graphic displays. We do not belong here either. 

Looking around the grounds, gardens and grand rooms of Schonnbrun Palace takes me a few hundred years into the past and back to my comfort zone. I'm amazed to find that Marie Antoinette was not French at all, but a daughter of the Hapsburg empire. JFK and Khrushchev also faced off within these walls in 1961, a few months before the end of the world looked near during the Cuban Missile Crisis. 

 

 

Moving from historical culture to popular culture, we tour the Wiener Prater, a funfair which doubled as the film set for The Living Daylights. The amusement park was built in 1897 to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Franz Joseph I of Austria's rise to power. Ironically, despite the fair only meant to be a temporary recreational space, its ferris wheel now reigns as the oldest in the world. The excitement of the day was also shaken and stirred when my family found out that they had ridden in the same carriage as James Bond.   

 

 

The Sigmund Freud Museum was a fascinating place - not only telling the well-known story of the father of psychoanalysis, but also the lesser-known narrative about the deal he made with the Nazis. His apartment and private practice, which he frequented from 1891 until he fled Vienna during the Anschluss of 1938, remains largely unchanged. Before the invasion, he was known to charge the equivalent of £2,500 an hour in today's pounds for one session. He paid the Third Reich an exorbitant amount of money to flee Austria, and surrendered his home to Nazi occupation.

 

 

The theatre awaits and we head off to the palace ready to immerse ourselves in what the country does best: music. The orchestra is superb, playing many pieces off by heart. Humour is also peppered into the pieces as the musicians interact with each other and  twirl their cellos to the delight of the crowd. My mother and sister are even more delighted that the world-class pianist looks strikingly like me. Yet, the pinnacle of my pianistic ambition ended with perfecting the Rugrats theme tune on my keyboard!

Ballerinas float onto the stage and we are enchanted by the grace, strength and agility of these athletes and the ease with which the male ballerina throws his partner around the stage. We eagerly wait for the opera singers to arrive and are spellbound by the fantastic sounds that reverberate from the chandeliers. I leave with the surprising assertion that the opera was my favourite part of the performance.  

 

Not quite having enough pennies in my purse for an opera ticket at the Vienna State Opera, where seats can sell for around 400 euros, I settle for a reasonably priced guided tour instead. We find out that no performance runs for two consecutive nights due to the singers needing to rest their voices and that it is bad luck to whistle inside because the noise resembles that of a gas leak! A debutant ball also takes place each year showcasing eligible ladies from Vienna and beyond, who waltz their way into society. 

This city embodies a kaleidoscope of cultures, with Viennese traditions integrating with Jewish enclaves. Time periods merge together as modern trams travel through imperial lands and businessmen with man buns rush to work on scooters alongside tourists on pushbikes. This is where East and West collide to create a city brimming with cakes, castles, concerts and where my camera is filled full of memories of some of my favourite things.