You call this a castle?! or There are 6,000 restaurants in Toronto, and...

Hi, readers.  Share with your friends, please.  Our publisher wants our numbers up.

At dinner, EH told the story of one of our faithful readers.  A friend of hers.  Seems EH sent her the link when we were in Central Europe last month ("Part I") and she responded, "Your dad is funny."  EH clarified thusly, "She was laughing AT you, not with you."  Okay, there's some burn in that, but if that's what it takes to get readers, I'm all for it, especially as I'm the Bob Hope in this thing.  He WAS the comic relief and all.

It was Monday, even in Canada, so we moved slowly.  It was heading toward noon before we got out of the apartment and Michael got the car (finally?!) out and drove us to Castle Loma.  Both Barb and K had this on their must-see list.

Requisite pic of outside:

Yes, it's a "castle."  But I was aware that there never were real castles in Canada -- being that their were no medieval wars here, despite the princesses, guys in armor, and warlock figurines in the gift shop -- so was not surprised to find that Castle Loma was built in 1911+ by the local banker.  In a dozen years, he was bankrupt and the city was taking it back for taxes.

In the mean time, he threw up this little crib with some nice accoutrements, like a teak floor in the first floor gallery, a couple turrets overlooking what was then the slum (the sign said it was a slum, how would I know? it's not MY value judgment), a stable, and a nice fountain (see pictures) in the back garden.

EH and I agreed that next to Vienna palaces (see this blog), it was NBD.  A tiger skin on the floor; a couple rooms "after" Robert Adam...but not overly exciting.  One man's folly.

We decided afterward that the interior design was "eclectic," as in, some 18th century (the Adam rooms), some Edwardian (her bedroom, for one), and some Edwardian macho chic (his bedroom, see tiger) and it was a shame that he both poured so much into the place and left it to go to whomever...now the Rotarians own and run it as a tourist site (it works!).

Three of us had lunch on the back garden terrace.  Does not get many stars in my book, and, BTW, it was NOT warm.

In case you don't get it, that's their "Castle All Dressed Bratwurst," with apple slaw, sauerkraut and two types of mustard.

Then off to town as Morgan Freeman dropped EH and K one place, me another and Barb and Michael went to find something not a sausage on a roll for late lunch.

We killed the afternoon with some naps, some cards (EH turns out is VERY competitive at euchre -- she even trash talks!  geez).

But, about dinner:  in the morning, there was a discussion (this is my story and I'm sticking to it) about where to go for dinner.  There was 4+ star Mexican place within 6 minutes walk from the flat.  I booked us there.  When K found out, her response was "there are 6,000 restaurants in Toronto and YOU pick Mexican?!?!"  This was said more than once.  It was never clear who's cuisine she wanted, and EH repeated "I love Mexican food," but we arrived at the restaurant with a certain friction in the air.  (BTW, EH, who loves Mexican, has a culinary rule: don't eat Mexican in a city where you can't buy salsa in the grocery stores.  Hmmm...)

This was not made better by our indecision, again, over the menu.  But Jenn talked us into two orders of guac, which EH and I devoured (no pic, sorry, I was too busy eating) -- it had more lime than usual and had pomegranate seeds on top to give it some sweetness and it was beat pretty smooth.  BTW, they had both corn chips and taro ones.  We all liked the taro ones best.

We then got the empanadas, which change daily.  Ours were chicken and the vegetarian option had corn, black beans, and mushrooms.  Everyone who had some thought the chicken ones were excellent.

Then tacos de rajas poblanos, which was the biggest hit of the night (I think).

THEN (yes, there was more food), there was the chicken dish (Alegeria?) that was on a bed of green beans and mushrooms and had a dark sauce, and EH ordered the fish special, which was sea bass with pineapple-cilantro salsa over a bed of "seafood picadillo."  Over a plantain.  I don't know what seafood picadillo is, but boy was it good. :).

We were all thrilled with the meal, even K told me that it was a good choice (ahhh!).

We were all too stuffed to order dessert, but there was an A&W on the way home, so EH and I stopped for a root beer float.  As we said, our proletarian treat after all the rich food at dinner. :)

Back to the flat for Michael to agonize over the Penguins loss (this, like their anniversary, seems to be an annual tradition on our trips now), and for EH to continue her winning streak at euchre -- she has yet to lose a series.  She grumbled on the way to bed "I can't believe I got set" about the one hand where she didn't crush her opponents. :)

And Tuesday, we are having breakfast, and then off to Stratford (according to Google maps, it is a day's walk...in case you wanted to know) for the first of several plays -- we are all seeing Richard Sheridan's delightful comedy *School for Scandal* in the afternoon.  As they say in the theatre (where there are REAL people acting, I heard at the escape house), break a leg!

Day 2: We can't Escape!

So, faithful reader, I begin the day with the photo link, since I forgot to put the hyperlink in yesterday. ):  Sorry.

Big day in Toronto.

Bing and I went to the ballgame with Barb and K -- he got to sing several times (maybe that was the reason for going in his mind, though it said it was the food!).  First time at the Rogers Centre: we had great seats, two rows up behind the rightfielder, and saw a great game, with the Jays coming back from 2-0 down against the Yankees to win with a homer in the bottom of the 8th, 3-2.  Josh Donaldson hit the homer, and it was his bobblehead day.  But, despite getting there 40 minutes before game time, for the 2nd game in a row, K and I didn't get the publicized souvenir. ):

Meanwhile, EH went to the Royal Museum.  Which explains, at least in part, why she's EH and the rest of us act like she knows a lot. :)

BTW, this is a photo from our apartment.  Yes, we are right under the CN Tower, the iconic symbol of the city.

After some discussion, and my "adventure at Starbucks" (there's one conveniently in our building on the ground floor) -- the woman two in front of me in line swooned (good word) and we spent some time trying to figure out what happened.  She was pretty non-responsive, rather peaked...they called the EMTs and dug through her pockets to find a credit card and her phone and they called someone on it and told them she was there and what was happening.  This morning I was told it was low blood sugar...explaining, I guess, why I made sure I got Timmy Ho-Hos for breakfast (the Canadian national donut, a la Dunkin, for you rookies).

We decided on dinner at the nearest Chinese place with good ratings.  On the way we passed a rack of t-shirts.  I got the sexual innuendo of it, but I missed the literal level, it turns out (BJs, Yanks...). Two hours later, in the men's room, Michael finally got me to understand what it was supposed to mean about baseball.  They all thought this was VERY funny.   Ha ha.

Dinner was excellent.  We were having what EH called choice fatigue when the waitress said we could have everything -- she'd just bring out a sample and...

First, there were their dim sum, or classic apps -- this is a lobster roll:

Then there was this lobster dish --

Then this seafood in a rice basket (the seafood was mildly spicy):

I don't seem to have a pic of our favorite (as I was taking it), the finale, which was a vermicelli with crab meat dish (ending with noodles).

I have not included the duck, the crab ravioli, the ginger covered shrimp...

It was the best meal so far and will hard to top.  Michael kept making "mmmm" noises. :)

Then, via Uber SUV (there are 5 of us, remember) to the escape house.

If you've never done this, this was our first time, too.  Barb and K wanted to do this.  This house is a 19th century historical mansion where they have shot episodes of the Murdoch Mysteries (called something else in the states), which are set in ca. 1900 Toronto.  We were greeted at the door by a rather tall fellow in tails and a bowler hat, who kept calling us constables.  Insert appropriate joke.

The waiver we signed was funny (something about not suing for emotional distress, for one), as was his list of things NOT to do while in the rooms.  He was particularly concerned with acting like actors were REAL people (with two theatre people with us, we knew better) and not to prod, poke or hurt them.

What happens in an escape room is you are locked into a room with a bunch of clues that you have to solve to get out of the room.  In our scenario, we had to figure out where 5 murders took place (there was a map of Toronto with locations on it) and find 4 keys to unlock a desk that...well, that was what we were told to do.   We had an hour.  We were told though there were only 5 of us, that it was usually 12, and that the solve rate was 10%.  Sounded like a challenge, it was.

The next 60 minutes was rather crazy.  Ok, EH has accused me of spending half an hour playing with a cabinet to get one key, so maybe it wasn't so much.  (In the end, a la James Kirk, I cheated, opened the cabinet and took the key).  There was a suspect in a jail cell, who Barb decided was the real detective -- not the guy in the bowler hat -- and early on got the jail cell key out of his pocket and got them to switch places.  I was in the wrong room when this happened (of course). Oh, yes, it took a series of clues to open the secret second room -- I have no idea where the first three badges came from but the last clue was fire...

EH and Michael spent a long time first finding 6 bells with symbols on them, then deciding that a tune on the radio-- a six note chime -- was the order of the bells.  Someone found a locked box with six (huh, funny that) rotating rings on it, with symbols like the ones on the bells.  Eventually they got the bells in order, and the symbols, opened that and found a key.

Barb and I worked too long on a series of chemical bottles that ended with us discovering a key in the arsenic bottle.

K and I worked wayyyyyy too long on 3 telegrams that you had to use a decoder to decode 2 of them, but then a typewriter to decode the third -- giving us one of the murder addresses.  Clever.

We ran out of time just as we got the desk unlocked to find six charts, numbered from crime 1 to six.

Our detective explained how well we did for just 5 of us (sure, sure) and that Det. Murdock was saved anyway (did I forget to tell you we were to get out to save him from the serial killer?).

It was great fun and we talked and talked about the things we did and shouldn't have done.  And how clever several of us (not me) were.   I did not have a clever day.

Then, it being a nice evening, we started the 20 minute walk back to the apartment.  We stopped and an ice cream place named Sweet Jesus (we're not sure why), which featured a picture of a nun smoking, reading the Bible and flipping the photographer off on the wall.  There was a huge line.

Another in joke: as we were looking for places to eat, EH suggested, prefacing with "none of you will want to do it," a "sushi burrito place."  It turned out to be next to Sweet Jesus.  Here's the sign:

Michael reads it and says, aloud, "Swedish burritos."  Which is a whole different fusion, but, no, not the same thing! :).  To make him feel better and distract everyone, I then tripped over the flower bed out front, managing to stay on my feet and say "I was just speeding up awkwardly." :)

Sweet Jesus was a bit of a disappointment -- it was decent soft serve, but the "Pimped Out" (their words) creations were limp, if you get my drift.  The "Sweet Jesus" signature ice cream turned out to be vanilla with chocolate, peanut, and caramel on the outside, not something more luxurious.

We finished with cards -- euchre, with K and EH taking on Michael and I.  At one point, the wicked women made a sound like "eh-heh" in almost unison -- at my expense -- and we all laughed at the  two of them being so much alike.

Final one-liner: yesterday we were talking about what we brought and Michael said, all I brought was blah-blah and ben-gay.  Barb says "old man cologne."  LOL.  None of the other 3 of us had ever heard it before.

Ben-gay.  Old man cologne.  Funny.

Till tomorrow, from Toronto...

Day 1 in Canada, or How much Asparagus can one man eat?

Yes, loyal readers, we are back!  Bob and Bing, Dorothy and Dorothy, and EH, all on week long trip to Canada (wine country, Toronto, and Stratford).

We stayed Friday night in Grand Island, NY, which is north and west of Buffalo, and lived up to its name.  Lots of very large homes facing the Niagara River.  Here's the river pic from our very nice Radisson hotel room:

Then to Canadian wine country.

First stop was Tawse (no, we still don't know how to pronounce it), which has a great view, in fact, thought he binoculars, you can see Toronto (the tower, etc) across the lake.  No picture I got does it justice.

There was significant tasting done, so much that Bing took a dive in the tasting room.  He seems to be all right.  Seems to be.

Next was Vineland Estates, where we had lunch.  No one was hungry but the food was so good.  We concentrated on dessert:

That's lemon curd torte with rhubarb ice cream.  EH had the courage to do it.

Then, after fighting Blue Jays game traffic (we are across the street from the Rogers Centre, where they play), we found our way to the apartment.  There were codes to get into the building, and parking to be found, etc.  Small adventure.

The next "thing" was dinner.  It was Bing and Barb's anniversary (I pointed out to the waiter that this was their story -- it seemed they milked the anniversary thing on us every year on a trip! Huh)...so we had sparkling wine.

Dinner, at Luma, a "block" (you know how Google is about this -- they clearly haven't walked it) from the apartment.

We ordered.  Bing ordered asparagus and asparagus and asparagus.  Okay, the soup of the day was cold asparagus; and there was a large side order of asparagus.  Here's the soup --

There were jokes about whether there was an asparagus dessert (crumble was suggested); discussion of the smell of pee (if you don't know, Google it).

And then some glorious desserts.  Here's the link to the pictures, but here's the lemon tart (yes, again), with appropriate message:

It was a good day one.  Weather report: it was 75 and sunny.  Lunch was out on the deck of the vineyard -- couldn't have been better.  BUT! every other day, except Wednesday, is supposed to be rainy.   And, if you are wondering (I'm sure you are), the Rogers Centre has a retractable roof, so we'll be dry for Josh Donaldson Bobblehead Day (if you don't know, google it!).   G'day, mate.

Last day in Europe and who knows where we are or what river that is?

Ok, we made it to the airport hotel in Vienna (our jumping off spot for Newark) but not without some stress and lots and lots of boredom.  I'll try to not overdo it (okay, "try" is probably not accurate :)), but...I'll try to go in chronological (almost order).

I went to breakfast in the 5-star spa/hotel alone, letting EH rest and sleep.  As I sat waiting on my continental breakfast (see pic, the orange juice was VERY orange), I decided to double check train arrangements to Budapest.

I soon was texting EH that I couldn't find a train to Budapest but there seemed to be viable bus options.

By the time I got to the room, she'd found something.  "This advice page said, 'go to the Slovakian national railway page to find trains from Bratislava to Budapest.'"  Yes, people were giving advice as they were having my problem.  I went there. "How did you get it in English?"  "I didn't. "  We determined there was an 1153 "fast" train to Budapest and went about our business.

But first -- a why the f**k: in the midst of this, we determined it'd be easier to just take the train to Vienna and catch our plane there.  So I called Austrian Airlines first (we are flying home on their airline, but it's one of those share things with United).  She tells me she can't do that because United issued the ticket.  Of course, getting United in the States from Europe means...well, I got someone.  Told her the problem.  She said "oh, you can do that, but let me see what it'd cost."  She put me on hold for 5 minutes and comes back with this: We'll have to reissue the ticket from Vienna, so it'd be $300 for this, $50 for us talking to you, and another $300 for that." !!!!  I quickly said good-bye, not bothering to find out if that was for one or both of us.

Riddle me this, Riddler: why?  Why would they charge me more money than I paid for the whole roundtrip ticket (by triple digits!) for a seat I already had?!?!!?  I get the security worry about not getting on the plane in Budapest, but...I don't get airline pricing.  And they were going to re-sell our seats to Newark in a day?  SMH.  A lot.

Problem 2:  Bradislava Castle doesn't let you go inside.  Who knows why?  But it's a 50s reconstruction of the original, which Napoleon (that bastard) destroyed in like 1809.  Today was battle reenactment day -- thus...

on the street next to us.

We couldn't get an Uber (our original plan) from the bakery & coffee shop where EH got her morning fast break, so we walked "Google" 12 minutes and got the bus back.  We uber'd to the train station, where the 1153 was 5 minutes late.  We sat for about 45 minutes, having gotten there early.  BTW, the tickets cost all of 30E (I wish I could find that symbol on here!).

The trip from Bratislava to Budapest stays on the north side of the Danube, in Slovakia.  Slovakia was the poor side of "Czechoslovakia"; Bratislava is the largest city, 500,000.  Some of the stops weren't on Google maps.  I'm not kidding.   Look up Sturovo and see what you get.  Let along the next stop (in Hungary) which was something like "Skav."

Funny thing: they checked tickets about an hour and a half into the 3 hour ride.  In Slovakia.  Another guy came in right after we crossed the border and checked again -- twice!  I guess the Hungarians worry about the rabble from Slovakia sneaking in.

BTW, we really liked Bratislava.  Not sure there's enough there to bring us back, but it's nice enough to recommend anyone who is anywhere near there.   Like Vienna.  Or Budapest.  Prague is a ways away, but even that...

After a snack in Budapest, we went to the airport.  We got the taxi at the train station and I made a mistake and got change in Forints (you remember, the Hungarian currency) for snacks.  The driver took about the only route to the airport and said "30 euros" when we got there!  I only paid the driver on Monday, hired ahead of time, 24!  And we went farther into town.  I gave him most of the rest of my szlotnies (inside joke) and we went in to wait for the plane.

The receptionist at Austrian Air couldn't have been nicer.  Since it was a share with United, neither would let me pick seats.  She got us seats on tomorrow's flight.

And we waited for hours.  Literally.  I spent EVERY bit of currency I had, down to like 6 euros in coins and 100 drachmas.  The board said "we'll tell you what gate in X minutes."  In Brussels they did this and we got to the gate as they started boarding.  This happened again.  But we were on the flight.  Which is worth mentioning for this --

We were on the plane so efficiently (I'm not supposed to say the Austrians have "German efficiency", but...) that we took off almost on time after a 15 minute delay.  They actually served drinks during the 40 minute (no shit!) flight.  And our bags were there within like 2 minutes after we got to the luggage carousel.  Get this: in ten minutes, we were on the ground, got our bags, and were in the hotel restaurant having their buffet.  The most expensive meal of the trip.  :).

and, given things, here's the appropriate final food pic of the trip -- double dessert on the last night!

It's been a great trip.  We didn't learn a word of Hungarian or Slovakian, but really loved both countries and their capitol cities.  Vienna was impressive, in a lot of ways, but we both thought it lacks charm.  Neither of us thought it'd be high on our "gotta go back" list.  Budapest, more likely.

So, intrepid reader, here's your final picture link -- with a shout out to our next traveling companions, Bing and Dorothy (see if you can find the reference to you in the pics).

We'll be back in two weeks from...heck, somewhere up north.

Your intrepid blogger.

Bouncing around Vienna & Bratislava (look it up)

 Opening: I was told early  that "hopalong" was not a good new nickname. & she just knew that Salzburg was the 4th largest city in Austria.:) EH!

The morning was spent at 2 art galleries -- the Leopold & the Kunsthistoriche (art history, I guess). At Leopold, saw more Expressionism that I feel is healthy, especially the Schiele. The notes said he painted all these nudes because he was an existentialist & concerned with their themes. That's why so many were of him & they were "flattering"if you catch my drift. Nudge nudge.

On the top floor (remember "hopalong" and her blistered, bloody toes) was the Gustav Klimt exhibit.  EH admitted disappointment -- I thought it was a solid modernist exhibition.  Not an overwhelming number, but enough to know his work pretty well.  EH bought souvenirs.  Not me.

Then across the Museum Quarter (yes, they have a whole area full of museums) -- but we couldn't find the entrance to the Kunsthistoriche.  We actually (it turns out) stood and talked about the door, but decided there needed to be more to it -- like people walking in.  So, unnecessarily, we circled this huge baroque building and ended up going through the door ("eingang").

We sat on the steps inside and looked at the map and decided everything either of us wanted to see was on the first floor in the rooms numbered mostly in the 20s.  So, off we went.

This was the Hapsburg's art collection.  As I pointed out to her, at least one of them had a thing for naked breasts.  (sort of a counter to the previous museum, but he did breasts, too).  And a thing for heads chopped off -- there must have been five paintings depicting Judith with Holofernes's head.

 Oh, yeah, and the other "go to" for the museum -- Mary Magdalene, sorrowful and repentant.  And, just to connect the dots, a good half the time sorrowful and repentant sans top.  Funny how that works.

They had two rooms of Rubens's.  I like Rubens enough; EH isn't a fan.  A room of Brueghel Srs.  A room of van Dycks.  A room of Caravaggios.  It was an impressive collection, especially if you take it literally that it was the archduke or emperor's private collection before.  You'd need a 2,500 room mansion...oh, yeah, they had one!  :)

I've spent too much time on this, as it turns out.

HERE'S THE PICTURE LINK

Then onto the train to Bratislava.  Europeans are proud of their train system.  The train to Bratislava was one bale of straw short of having chickens and being from one of those movies.  Late 20th c. style.

A woman got on in the eastern burbs of Vienna and sat across from us and pulled out her phone.  I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP: she talked on the phone the entire time she was on the train.  And fairly loudly.  In German (not that that mattered).  When she hung up once I felt relief, when she went to dial another number I almost reached out and took the phone from her and started an international incident.  I shook and held it in and she got off a couple steps before Bratislava.

We got a taxi ride from the station to the hotel.  23Es!!! double what it was in Vienna.  EH looked (after) and found Wiki Travel saying "don't just grab a taxi at the station, they are shysters who gouge tourists."  Been there, done that.

The hotel is very nice -- Booking.com says 5-stars.  Here's the bathroom, see what you think:

Best one so far.  Tomorrow night in Vienna may be a let down.

The front desk person (Angelika) told us to take the bus down to the castle (on the hill below us) and walk down to Old Town.  To get tickets at the tobacco shop for .70 or .80 euros.

EH walked away as I tried to use Google translate and my Clouseau accent to get "eight baseek bus tickets".  I gave her my phone with bus ticket on it and she shrugged how much and showed me .90 euro ones, longer than I needed, and I bought those.

We started the walk down the hill and there was a pharmacy; this time the pharmacist, or counter person, to be vague when we aren't sure, admitted to speaking a little English.  I was able to buy that American staple: ibuprofen.

Then to this lovely church, St. Martin's, which sits on the west end of Old Town (parts of which date back to the 10th century).

We have a very positive impression of Bratislava, despite the fleecing by the taxi driver.

Here's the Old Town, toward St. Michael's Gate --

We sat and had home-made lemonade on the corner and watched people going by, speculating on how many were Americans (probably quite a few).

Then we went to dinner.  EH found the best Central European cuisine in Bratislava (which might be the best...you fill in the blank).  She had pig knuckle, which came with potato pancakes.  Pictured.

And, then, sore feet and all, after discussing not having time to see it otherwise, we walked the 12 minutes (.5 KM according to Google) in the opposite direction from the hotel to see this -- which is probably a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

Google maps suggested Uber and in 2 minutes a guy pulled up in a small, if not exactly rickety, car and whisked us to the top of our hill (here's the photo to show how high above B'lava) for less than 4 euros!  We're in Slovakia, we still exploit the workers.

We were a couple thousand FitBit steps below yesterday, but still impressive given how hurt and worn out we were.  EH was a trooper.  And I still want that woman's cell phone. :)

Tomorrow, a last castle, last train ride, and short flight back to Vienna.  It's almost over...!!!

Viennese Palaces (+) in a Day; or, I'm just a simple gardener

[There were many photos.  Here's the link to the new album.  Enjoy.  I know some will beg for captions.  Another day, another life. ]

The second title comes from the voice over, and EH's constant repetition of it, from the palace tour at Schonnbrun...and then again at their other place in the city, Hofburg.   Also known as "Sisi's rooms."  (more on that, gag gag, later)

So you get the gist of all this, and our prole response, here's the "summer palace" --

A mere 1,000 rooms.

But the Hapsburgs, as we were told repeatedly, wanted to have the common touch, so they all learned a trade.  The last one was a gardener.  Of course, as Meg pointed out, he was a "simple gardener who had two attendants to pull him out of his bath every morning and wipe him down" or, as I put it so eloquently standing in line, I wasn't sure if this characteristic made them better or more likely to have someone attempt to assassinate them -- which happened regularly it seems.  You know, the simple emperor with 1,000 rooms, with gilt on the walls, the man of the people, and all...SMN!

But, on a slightly lighter note, we started the day with this --

This place, the Cafe Einstein, was two blocks from the hotel.  And, yes, ICYMI, on the left front corner is custard.  EH *made* me eat it for breakfast.  The waiter didn't speak English and neither did the menu, so we worked Google translate hard (a handy thing) and this is what we ordered.  Their "grosse" as I recall.  Oh, and, not pictured, it came with breads and two boiled eggs.

The discussion, given all the pics of Einstein on the walls, led to Albert (who we determined had nothing to do with Vienna, but is an intellectual rock star and all).  Having read Isaacson's biography and seen the first 3 episodes of the National Geographic series, I pointed out his genius was based on a few papers written in one year.  I was given heck!  "How many times did the man have to re-write physics?!?!?!?"  I just pointed out that the great man himself made no bones about it, according to Isaacson (and his own papers) that he was disappointed he never got further on the General Theory.  You know, light breakfast conversation.

Then to Schonnbrun.  1,000 rooms.  Summer place.  A la Versailles.  Supposedly Marie Antoinette was overwhelmed by Versailles, but given the size of this place, well...

We heard a lot about how the next-to-last Emperor, Franz Joseph, who ruled 68 years up to 1916, was such a common guy.  Got up early, worked hard days, didn't like pomp.  Just ruled over 70 million people and had places in Vienna with 1,000 and 2,500 rooms.  You know, Joe Shmo on the street.

After lunch (pictured), we took the U(nderground) to the other palace -- the Sisi Museum. Okay, if we were gagging a bit at Schonnbrun, it gets better.  Sisi, Elizabeth, was Franz Joseph's wife.  They married when she was 16, a Bavarian princess.  She was a very attractive woman and the voice over let us knew she knew it and worked to keep it that way -- including a study where she actually worked out (a chin up bar, rings, etc).

Sisi gets credit for the stuff in this palace.  This was the big one downtown, which many generations built onto, until the 2,500 rooms.  The tour began with, and I'm not making this up, 40 rooms of silver and plates.  40.  No shit.  EH asked at one point why anyone needed that many gilded candelabras...

After the 40 rooms, which we didn't dally in, we went through the royal apartments.  The voice over in the audio guide included the same lines about Franz Joseph our everyman (with 2,500 rooms here, right?) etc.  They seem particularly proud of a recording they have of him saying the pro forma words at the end of his audience, which roughly translated were "nice talking to you, we're done."  Except shorter.  He wasn't wasting much time with small talk.  You know, being busy working on the empire and all.

By the end of all this,  EH was worn down, so we stopped for a drink (there's a Starbucks in central Vienna!?!!? who knew?!!?!?) and I walked down to see St. Stephen's "dom" as it's named.  The 900 year old structure is an excellent example of Gothic architecture.   And love those roof tiles.  I bet those aren't 11th century.

and, gentle reader, if you thought we were too pooped to poop, no!  We then walked the 900 meters (so saith Google maps, liar!) to the "Secession."  This is a small gallery famous for its Klimpt mural.  You will seem some pictures of some of the art there...and, yes, really, there are rocks on the floor as one exhibit.  Yes.  Really.   And then there's the shot that you may not recognize, there's a bottle of water on that post in the middle of the room.  NO!  Not "a bottle of water" but a half...half...full? empty? bottle of water.  SMN #2.

Then back to the hotel for a pre-dinner nap and shower.  Then to a nearby "Austrian" cafe, after an abortive stop, and we had this, yes, this for dessert!  Finally, strudel!  And, yes, my friends, EH really did burst into "Toaster Stroo-dle" as the waitress walked away with our order.  Where's the embarrassed emoticon? 😞

Now, back to Sisi:  Sisi bore Franz Joseph, who the voiceover said adored her, multiple children (who can keep track of all the Franz's?) but she wasn't big on much of it.  They quoted her on marriage about spending 30 years having been forced into a decision at age 15 that you didn't understand.  She wrote poetry and liked to travel and was "rarely at court."  He had like 6 pictures of her in his study/office.  She had none of him in her similar room.  All of her family back in Bavaria and the youngest daughter.

Well, Sisi had the luck of history on her side: in 1896 or abouts she was assassinated by an Italian activist while in Switzerland.  She was laid in state at the Hofburg, where we were, and etc etc, creating almost instantly a cult of Sisi.  There are movies.  Some from Hollywood.  etc etc.

Let me finish with some generalizations: we've read that Vienna is regularly ranked as the best city in the world to live in.  We see that.  It is clean.  The underground runs on time.  It seems to have everything you'd want in terms of culture.  However, we both liked Budapest better.  Dirtier, grittier, no one seemed worried about time -- my anecdote was that the woman at the checkout counter at Schonnbrun asked for my ID!  I was using my AAA travel card.  I hadn't signed it.  No one had asked in 5 days.  But she pointed out that it said "not valid without signature."  I pointed out I had no ID that matched the embossed "Travel Card" on the front. :) . I showed her my passport, she said "I had to..." and I wondered...WTF!

Now, to traveling: I admit to screwing up this arrangement in Vienna.  We are staying in a very nice hotel -- at least one star better than the one in Budapest -- across the street from the university.  However, as I scouted and arranged this, it was supposed to be "close" to the train station -- turns out we came into a different train station!  and it's not close to the center of town, really (not like in Budapest), so there are places to eat, but it's not touristy, so Google translate is teaching us new words.  Like Frielandi -- which is a free range egg.

As you can see from the pictures, there would be much else to tell, but I have 50% more steps on my Fitbit today than any other day on the trip.  And tomorrow there's another gallery, and then to Bratislava...where I'm not sure what to expect, although we are booked in the only (who's surprised it's just one?) 5-star hotel in the city.

I will go to sleep tonight, pondering 3,500 rooms and being a simple gardener.  :)

Midway (between Budapest and Vienna)

EH has me humming Strauss's *Blue Danube.*  Or some off-key proximity thereof.  She started this when she actually saw the Danube for the first time in Budapest on Monday night.  She's kept it up even after recognizing Strauss was Austrian...until today, where we passed a hotel named after him.  Yes, it's like that in Vienna.

But first what EH calls "traveling with pedants."  The esoteric discussion over dinner last night was "what is the difference between a dumpling and pasta."  Since most readers will know how I feel about pasta, you can imagine how this comes up.  Since I am NOT a fan of dumplings.  She says "they are the same thing" and it goes from there.  Answer: although they can have the same ingredients, no one "prepares" dumplings, unlike rolling pasta.  I argue the dumplings I know have no eggs, but her google search denies this.  You know you can find ANYTHING on google.

Dinner tonight.  Picture.

For those of you (cough cough) who do the German thing, you may recognize this as a "palatschinken."  Right.  Anyway, the English version of the menu called it a "pancake."  We laughed at the translation: either the Austrians are still pissed about Marie Antoinette and don't want to touch French or they have a serious misconception of a pancake.  (they are crepes...duh)

Which led to the "what's the difference between a crepe and a pancake" question -- pedants on vacation.   Answer: pancakes have a rising agent. 

So, dinner.  We found this cafe which was quite nice about a ten minute walk from our hotel, which is quite nice.  EH ordered...wait for it...Viennese goulash!  What??!?! What, what?!!?!?  

She did not say for a fact it was better than the Budapest version, but she did admit potatoes make everything better (for her).   It was "more vinegary."  Thus saith Julie Child. 

We arrived in Vienna after a mostly blah train ride, where there was no Wifi as promised till we reached Austria (and no cell service for us, though, as is traditional, someone nearby had phone conversations AND someone else had their phone set on "alert me if there's wind" and it beeped constantly -- thanks, dude, glad to know you're so popular, but TURN IT OFF!!!!!).

Karen asked for pictures from the train.  Like this one. 

Nope, don't know.  We went through cities with names I'd never heard before.   All in western Hungary.  There was no landscape worth documenting at 70 mph and the rail stops weren't anything to blog about either. 

We ate lunch outside the rail station in Pest (pronounced for us pedants as "pesht"), eschewing instead of chewing Burger King, McDonalds and KFC.  I'm not making this up.  OC there was a Starbucks there and...wait for it -- one on our walk to dinner here in Vienna.  You see my shocked face. 

Our morning included a trip out to Heroes monument, a circle on the end of one of Pest's avenues.  This was built in 1899 for the Millenial Exhibition.  It's Gabriel on the column and a bunch of guys named Milosc and Laslo are the statues.  

The Agricultural Museum looks like an old church --

and there's a spring that spits out hot water (72 degrees C, we were told by the tour guide) from under the Heroes square -- and into their "famous" baths (we went in, saw no one bathing, and left).  If you can figure this one out: you can drink the bath water (yuck) and it helps your gastro-intestinal ailments.  By killing you, most likely. 

And that was it.  

Some things to know: several times I was asked if I wanted my purchase on my Visa card (don't leave home without it) in HUFs or in American dollars or Euros.  I ended up going with HUFs -- the one time I know they wanted $12+ and the charge came through as $11.50.  Shysters.  

Also worth knowing: most of the good stuff in Istanbul is on the European side of the Dardanelles.  Just sayin'.  

Tomorrow we are going to maybe two palaces.  If EH is up to it.  She had a bout of the water retentions today and we had to slow down.   She seems better before and after dinner (didn't have the multiple glasses of Hungarian wine with her goulash tonight).  So, fingers crossed.  And, to save time, we aren't hopping on and off, but taking the underground (the Metro) straight to places tomorrow and Friday.  An hour dragging around the city on a bus is a good way to get to know a place, but it cuts into your actual looking time. 

But here's our first impression: Vienna ain't no Budapest.  The train station was newer, sleeker and more lively.  The taxi driver was Nikki Lauda.  The church near our hotel (Votivkirche) is only 150 years old but is mistaken for a Gothic one in town that's 700 years older.  Vienna is cleaner and you can tell this was the rich end of the Empire.  Bastards!  Bigger buildings, bigger promenades, you name it.  

But it looks nice. 

Here's the picture link.  I'll create a new album tomorrow for photos, so there won't be so many to get through.  

We're halfway through.  Arrividerci.  Or...guten nicht or some such shite.