Veni, Vidi, Vienna

One thing often said about Vienna  among Hungarians and foreigners alike is that it is dull, which is true when you’re used to Budapest, its ruin bars, its loose open alcohol container, its chaotic traffic, and its loopy language.

Everything Vienna closes at 6pm in Vienna and little is open on Sunday. This would lead you to believe that they must like their nightlife. I don’t know about that because it seems very tame there. On my second visit, my buddy, Alek, and I wandered through the city’s club district. We left unimpressed and bored enough that we decided to just call it a night.

The next night, Kata and I went to the Danube, where there were bars and patios built into the arches of an old brick elevated train line. Kata, a Hungarian born and raised in debaucherous Budapest, shrugged and said, “This is... nice.”

The Viennese are not party people, but party lame-ness aside, there is plenty to like about Vienna.

City of Bromance

Vienna has the potential to be a romantic city. It’s rich in the arts, with opera, classical music concerts, ballet and what not. Its rich cafe culture just invites you to sip coffee and nibble pastries for hours. The beautiful architecture, old palaces and parks all set the right mood.

By coincidence, I’ve spent a lot of time exploring Vienna with buddies – without any bachelor party behaviour. My first time there with Teak, we were tourists: visiting museums, eating pastries at coffee houses and snapping a lot of photos. The next time with Alek, we visited the Albertina and ate fancy sidewalk cafe lunches together.

There’s been a lot of bromance in Vienna.

Tourist-Friendly

1) The Habsburgs built this city to impress visitors – it was the capital of an empire, after all. There are buildings built to inspire awe, museums filled with treasures and galleries filled with art.

2) Few locals live in the city centre, where the Hofburg, the largest museums, the Opera House and most of Vienna’s attractions lie. So there is no large amount of commingling between the locals and the tourist, like when a tourist suddenly stops on the sidewalk to slowly, slowly take a photo of something pretty in front of a local walking brisking behind him. So there’s little ill will from the Viennese towards the tourists.

3) It's also beautiful.

Art, music, blah, blah, blah

It’s a cliché that Vienna is a city of culture. But it’s true. Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms all plied their musical trade here. Every coffee house and many restaurants have pianists or violinists or string quartets playing in the background. Along with its usual fat lady singing repertoire, the Opera House also has classical music performances, which it feeds to a gigantic screen outside.

You feel smarter just being here.

Street Meat

There’s nothing quite like enjoying the Beethoven’s third movement on the Opera House's outdoor big screen than with bratwurst and a beer.

Yes, you can get street meat in Vienna. Unlike the dubious stuff found at 2am in Toronto, this stuff tastes good. You can get it in “hot dog” form or, my favourite, sliced on a plate with a mound of mustard and a slice of fresh rye bread. It's Europe, so some street kiosks also have beer.

Real Hungarian Delicacies

Just before I left Budapest for Florence, I asked Eva, my Hungarian friend there, if she wanted anything from home. She did not hesitate and asked for one Turo Rudi.

I brought two Turo Rudis when I arrived in Florence. Eva couldn’t help herself. She ate one right away with the same feeding-frenzy-ferociousness that Canadians in my office have displayed over maple syrup. 

She hoped aloud she could save the second for later but with four Hungarian roommates, that lone Turo Rudi would not likely make it through the night.

The Turo Rudi is a distinctively Hungarian treat. It's a small bar of cottage cheese covered in chocolate. I can already sense some of my fellow North Americans wincing or making a gross face. But these things are freakin’ delicious. It's the heavenly mixture of sweetness and tartness and probably angel sweat.

On the other end of the taste spectrum is Unicum. How do I describe Unicum? It’s a bitter liquor, like Yagermeister, but tastes worse. It's like if Yagermeister got drunk and took advantage of itself and had an incestuous troll baby in a grease bog -- that would be close to how Unicum tasted to me.

When I learned of Unicum, I knew it wasn't my thing. I successfully stayed away from it until my friend Sarah visited Budapest. She insisted we try all the Hungarian drinks, so after the beers and the palinka, we bought a small bottle and took a shot in my kitchen.

But of course, that's my ignorant, unrefined North American palette speaking. Most Hungarian friends, including the two strongest supporters above, have professed their love for this troll poison. On the other hand, I have never met a foreigner who has admitted to liking it. Like so many things here, it's a strangely cool, yet uniquely Hungarian thing.

The Perils of the Palinka

The Palinka Effect

Joe, a work friend, gets invited into the apartment of a neighbour in his building. He does not speak Hungarian, the neighbour does not speak English, but the language barrier does not get in the way of hospitality: the neighbour offers him a drink. Joe accepts and the neighbour surprises Joe with a wine glass full of palinka. 

For the uninitiated, palinka is a brandy made from fermented fruit, like apricots, apples or whatever. You can make palinka with anything, like honey. There are big distillers, but it’s also a sort of cottage industry among Hungarians, like whiskey in the South. There are small-batch craft palinkas, and there is also a lot of homemade stuff out there, which is stronger and more dangerous. 

Joe was in the Danger Zone; he had the homemade palinka. He swayed back and forth, tie loosened and eyes all cross-eyed. He left the party early that night. Everyone has their own palinka story of woe. I have awoken up in the morning feeling like I have scorpions wrestling in my skull on several mornings because of the delicious, dangerous drink. 

A Czech art director likes to sip on palinka with a glass of water – much to the disgust of his North American colleagues. But he has the right idea. Palinka is delicious, but dangerous. It must be handled with care. It’s too volatile to mix with beer in copious amounts. It must be respected, you too will have scorpions wrestling in your skull.