April 26, 2018
At 0515 hours, a Bratislava-bound Flixbus pulls into Vienna bus station. A journey that started in Warsaw at 1930 hours has ended 20 minutes ahead of schedule schedule. After patronizing Flixbus for about twenty journeys in the past six months, this is a first for me. I step out into a cool dark Thursday morning in Austria. Something about the way the air feels reminds me of the way Delhi feels after a monsoon shower.
Five minutes later, I am Vienna Central Station. Something about my first glance at this station is oddly comforting - perhaps it is how functional the large clock looks at this hour, signifying that the city is awake and ready for me, or possibly the familiarity of the German word 'Hauptbahnhof', one I realize I have missed. The feeling intensifies when I am able to ask (and be understood), and be replied to (and understand) in German where exactly the U-Bahn (metro) platforms are located.
I left Germany four months ago, on new year's even 2017. In the three months I spent in Belgium afterwards, I complained constantly about how much I missed hearing German around me all the time, notwithstanding that I understand only perhaps 10% of the language. I compensated for it by subjecting some rather charitable German classmates to my terrible attempts at speaking their mother tongue (and doubtless butchering it in the process).
Once on the train, I am smiling at hearing familiar (albeit utterly mundane) phrases on the PA system such as "Nächste Haltestelle" ("next station") and "Ausstieg Links" ("exit to the left"). The German fastidiousness for signage extends to its neighbouring country, thanks to which I change lines from U1 to U4 at Schwedenplatz like a pro, to arrive at Roßauer Lände station. The successful comprehension of the the announcements on the train has seemingly imbued me with enough confidence to pick up a free copy of Heute newspaper at the station (only to never get around to actually reading it).
Vienna is no longer dark, and in fact, the pre-6 a.m. walk from the station to my friend S's house in Grünentorgasse is an absolutely beautiful introduction to the city. The empty streets glisten with traces of the rain I had smelled in the air as soon as I got off the bus. There is a beautiful church that is just beginning to glow in the first rays of the morning sun. The silence of the early morning is broken when I hear some Pakistanis talking in Urdu, shouting out some street numbers to each other while looking for the right building on Grünentorgasse. It is a morning of familiar tongues.
S and I are classmates in a Master's programme. We shared only one term together, and in the third and final term of this programme, my classmates can be found in as many as six countries, across two continents. It is nice to see S for the first time since we last met in February, though I feel terrible waking her up at this hour.
I have trouble sleeping on overnight buses, but I also have trouble sleeping during hours of the day that my body does not deem to be "regular sleeping hours". So I surprise myself when I actually manage to compensate for a sleepless night by sleeping from 6 to 10 a.m. on S's couch. We step outside together after a nice breakfast comprising coffee, oranges and toast.
After walking for a couple of hundred metres, it is already quite clear that this is a very fancy neighbourhood. Within minutes we are at the Rathaus, or the town-hall. I am excited because I had researched in advance about a free guided tour of the Rathaus on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. I enter the Vienna Rathaus and demand to be shown around for free. My sense of entitlement is punctured when I am informed by the gentleman at the reception that today is, in fact, Thursday. Somehow my eager anticipation had clouded over my sense of time. I satisfy myself with a gratis self-guided tour of the two halls that are publicly accessible.
S is off to class for the next few hours, while I begin to make my way through a series of small parks in the vicinity of the Vienna MuseumQuartier. The weather is not my friend today; it drizzles on and off. This is the first grey day Vienna has seen in an otherwise sunny month, my friends later tell me. It's not ideal, but I try to make the most of the situation, seeking shelter and Wi-Fi from time to time.
One of the places I seek shelter in is a building called the Theseus Temple, located in the middle of a park known as the Vienna Volksgarten. The Theseus Temple is a 19th century replica of an ancient Greek temple, the Temple of Hephaestus in Athens. At present, the Theseus Temple is the venue of an art installation by a Cuban artist, Felix Gonzalez-Torres. The installation consists of two strings of light hanging parallel from the ceiling and reaching the floor in small coils, respectively. It is titled '"Untitled" (Lovers – Paris)', which is a strange and confusing name.
The description for the art installation explains further:
"While the meaning of the work is left open, its title “Untitled” (Lovers – Paris) suggests a pair of lovers who bring light and joy into each other’s lives. And yet this reading is accompanied by an inescapable melancholy. Despite their warm, affirming glow, each bulb will one day burn out and extinguish before being replaced by another. With this in mind, the work points to the fleeting nature of life, the vulnerability of the human form, and beyond, to the process of regeneration."
The lights are pretty, but this art is not exactly a ray of sunshine on a day that is already gloomy AF. So I get out of there, to see more of Vienna outside of the Theseus Temple, and to live more of this life that is passing me by due to its fleeting nature.
 |
| The double-decker bus that takes me from Warsaw to Vienna |
At 0515 hours, a Bratislava-bound Flixbus pulls into Vienna bus station. A journey that started in Warsaw at 1930 hours has ended 20 minutes ahead of schedule schedule. After patronizing Flixbus for about twenty journeys in the past six months, this is a first for me. I step out into a cool dark Thursday morning in Austria. Something about the way the air feels reminds me of the way Delhi feels after a monsoon shower.
Five minutes later, I am Vienna Central Station. Something about my first glance at this station is oddly comforting - perhaps it is how functional the large clock looks at this hour, signifying that the city is awake and ready for me, or possibly the familiarity of the German word 'Hauptbahnhof', one I realize I have missed. The feeling intensifies when I am able to ask (and be understood), and be replied to (and understand) in German where exactly the U-Bahn (metro) platforms are located.
 |
| Wien Hauptbahnhof at 0520 hours |
I left Germany four months ago, on new year's even 2017. In the three months I spent in Belgium afterwards, I complained constantly about how much I missed hearing German around me all the time, notwithstanding that I understand only perhaps 10% of the language. I compensated for it by subjecting some rather charitable German classmates to my terrible attempts at speaking their mother tongue (and doubtless butchering it in the process).
 |
| Inside a Vienna U-Bahn station |
Once on the train, I am smiling at hearing familiar (albeit utterly mundane) phrases on the PA system such as "Nächste Haltestelle" ("next station") and "Ausstieg Links" ("exit to the left"). The German fastidiousness for signage extends to its neighbouring country, thanks to which I change lines from U1 to U4 at Schwedenplatz like a pro, to arrive at Roßauer Lände station. The successful comprehension of the the announcements on the train has seemingly imbued me with enough confidence to pick up a free copy of Heute newspaper at the station (only to never get around to actually reading it).
 |
| Wordplay in German for a headline |
Vienna is no longer dark, and in fact, the pre-6 a.m. walk from the station to my friend S's house in Grünentorgasse is an absolutely beautiful introduction to the city. The empty streets glisten with traces of the rain I had smelled in the air as soon as I got off the bus. There is a beautiful church that is just beginning to glow in the first rays of the morning sun. The silence of the early morning is broken when I hear some Pakistanis talking in Urdu, shouting out some street numbers to each other while looking for the right building on Grünentorgasse. It is a morning of familiar tongues.
 |
| The early morning walk from the U-Bahn station |
S and I are classmates in a Master's programme. We shared only one term together, and in the third and final term of this programme, my classmates can be found in as many as six countries, across two continents. It is nice to see S for the first time since we last met in February, though I feel terrible waking her up at this hour.
I have trouble sleeping on overnight buses, but I also have trouble sleeping during hours of the day that my body does not deem to be "regular sleeping hours". So I surprise myself when I actually manage to compensate for a sleepless night by sleeping from 6 to 10 a.m. on S's couch. We step outside together after a nice breakfast comprising coffee, oranges and toast.
 |
| The Vienna Rathaus (also very fancy from the inside) |
 |
| The Vienna Ring Tram crossing the Vienna Rathaus |
After walking for a couple of hundred metres, it is already quite clear that this is a very fancy neighbourhood. Within minutes we are at the Rathaus, or the town-hall. I am excited because I had researched in advance about a free guided tour of the Rathaus on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. I enter the Vienna Rathaus and demand to be shown around for free. My sense of entitlement is punctured when I am informed by the gentleman at the reception that today is, in fact, Thursday. Somehow my eager anticipation had clouded over my sense of time. I satisfy myself with a gratis self-guided tour of the two halls that are publicly accessible.
S is off to class for the next few hours, while I begin to make my way through a series of small parks in the vicinity of the Vienna MuseumQuartier. The weather is not my friend today; it drizzles on and off. This is the first grey day Vienna has seen in an otherwise sunny month, my friends later tell me. It's not ideal, but I try to make the most of the situation, seeking shelter and Wi-Fi from time to time.
 |
| The Theseus Temple in the Vienna Volksgarten |
One of the places I seek shelter in is a building called the Theseus Temple, located in the middle of a park known as the Vienna Volksgarten. The Theseus Temple is a 19th century replica of an ancient Greek temple, the Temple of Hephaestus in Athens. At present, the Theseus Temple is the venue of an art installation by a Cuban artist, Felix Gonzalez-Torres. The installation consists of two strings of light hanging parallel from the ceiling and reaching the floor in small coils, respectively. It is titled '"Untitled" (Lovers – Paris)', which is a strange and confusing name.
The description for the art installation explains further:
"While the meaning of the work is left open, its title “Untitled” (Lovers – Paris) suggests a pair of lovers who bring light and joy into each other’s lives. And yet this reading is accompanied by an inescapable melancholy. Despite their warm, affirming glow, each bulb will one day burn out and extinguish before being replaced by another. With this in mind, the work points to the fleeting nature of life, the vulnerability of the human form, and beyond, to the process of regeneration."
The lights are pretty, but this art is not exactly a ray of sunshine on a day that is already gloomy AF. So I get out of there, to see more of Vienna outside of the Theseus Temple, and to live more of this life that is passing me by due to its fleeting nature.
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