Hamams and Bathhouses

By Chris Sarcletti

Cities: Istanbul and Budapest

Bathing is a part of everyday life in many parts of the world. Some people are more fortunate than others and have the opportunity to take a nice soapy bath in a large tub almost every evening. In stark contrast, others may stand in the banks of a muddy river where crocodiles loom and pour buckets of water over their bare skin. Whatever the form, bathing is undoubtedly a part of every culture. For the more fortunate, bathing takes place privately in a home or apartment. However, in many other cases, bathing takes place in a more public setting, which could be a river, health club gym, fountain or a bath house.

From my perspective, I don’t put a lot of thought into bathing. Typically, I stand under a shower at my health club or at home for about five minutes and do a bit of a scrub down before professing to myself that I am clean. I guess I am one of the lucky ones who take this luxury for granted. Maybe that is part of the reason why I was interested in having a different type of bathing experience when presented with the opportunity while traveling to Istanbul, Turkey.

In ancient times, before running water was plentiful in private homes, bath houses were relatively common and served a useful purpose as a place to go to keep clean and relax. Bath houses were common in many cultures, and to a much lesser degree, still are today. According to the Turkish Daily News, “Going to the hamam once upon a time used to be an outing for the women and young children of the family in Turkey. Dishes such as börek (pastry with various fillings), dolma (stuffed peppers), fruit and sweets would be prepared and then it was off for a day of bathing and massage, eating, singing, dancing and gossiping.”

While some of these venues are still frequented by locals in Istanbul to this day, most of Istanbul’s residents have bathrooms with showers or baths inside their own homes. As a result, many of the still operating hamams are frequented by tourists looking for an “authentic bathing experience” using the same procedure that have been used for centuries.

From the minute I started to research Istanbul in anticipation of my trip there, I was determined to visit a Turkish bath. It sounded like such a unique and interesting experience that I was pretty insistent that this constitute part of one of our days in Istanbul. After doing a bit of research, Martin and I decided to visit the Cemberlitas Hamam, a historic bath house that is thought to have been one of the structures built by the architect Sinan in 1584. We saved this experience for the afternoon of our last day in Istanbul. After a long day of sightseeing, Martin and I were looking as forward to visiting a Turkish bath as our tummies were to having our first shawarma in Istanbul a few days ago. As much as Martin and I thought we were ready for the experience we were about to have as we walked into the hamam, we really had no idea what to expect. We were like young children again getting ready to experience something for the first time.

We walked into the Cemberlitas Hamam and immediately paid the attendant that greeted us. As to what exactly we were paying for, we weren’t sure. In circumstances like these, when you don’t you know anything and are full of nothing but questions, I find that the best approach is to just follow everyone else. We walked into a locker room of sorts and saw both men and women sitting in what appeared to be a waiting room. We looked around and really didn’t know what to do. After surveying the environment for a moment or two, we made the determination that the 4 or 5 hairy, shirtless Turkish men were the people we needed to talk to. After all, who the hell else could it be? They were at least interacting with some of the people who seemed to be waiting for whatever was to come next. They noticed us approaching and tossed Martin and I each a towel, handed us a key and pointed to the staircase that I assumed would take us upstairs to some rooms where we could change our clothes. We walked up the stairs and just looked around, having absolutely no idea where exactly to go. There were rooms to our left and rooms to our right, kind of like a hotel. All we knew was that we had a key to a room and it had a number on it. Eventually, we found our changing cabin. We entered, stripped down and wrapped ourselves in our towels. We were leaving our valuables in the cabin and were hopeful they would be there when we returned. Martin and I looked at each other and smirked as we exited the cabin and nervously went out in search of what was surely going to be a new experience. To be honest, it was great to be so immersed in the moment as we really had no other choice. There was nothing to contemplate or think about since there really was nothing in our past that would prepare us for whatever was about to happen next.

Again, we were pointed in a specific direction towards a door by one of many hairy Turkish men. As we walked towards the door, I was kind of nervous as I really had no idea what was going to happen to me on the other side of the door I was about to open. I opened the door and walked into a steamy room that had piles of towels stacked in a few different spots, bathing attendants engaged in various sorts of activities and fountains with water running through them. Apparently, this was some sort of staging or waiting area because we were then led to another room. I assumed that we were now in the actual “bath” where things would really get going. Through a combination of some broken English and a lot of finger pointing, we were directed to lie down on a circular, heated marble platform in the middle of the room where a bunch of men were already lying. We found a spot, lied down and waited. As I lied there, I leaned up a few times to survey the room. In addition to the hairy Turkish men who seemed to be tapping people on the shoulder (or slapping them on the feet) when they were ready for them, there were many interesting facets to the room. There were small, circular windows all over the domed ceiling that was above me. Through it shined rays of light that reminded me of the light that beams through the windows in a church. In addition, there were small faucets with running water coming out of them around the circular area where I was sitting. It seemed that there were quite a few men using these faucets to bathe parts of their bodies. It appeared that the room I was in was the primary bathing room, but there were many rooms to the left and right that branched off of this room. From what I could see inside these rooms, there were several faucets and small tubs in each room. The floors of the room were broken up by a few large crevices that acted as drains. The water that had flowed over the side of the tub or off of someone’s body onto the floor emptied into these crevices. There was running water everywhere. I saw people come and go from these rooms, always with a bathing attendant. It appeared that part of the bathing experience definitely involved the use of these rooms. One thing I saw inside one of these rooms created a bit of apprehension for me. I saw a man lying on the ground on his stomach. He wasn’t just lying there though, as one of the bathing attendants appeared to be slowly walking across his back. That was all I could see and I am not sure I wanted to see much of anything else. I put my head back down and told myself to just go with the situation and take it all in. I didn’t know what the hell was going to happen next.
As I sat there with Martin and waited, I realized just how hot it was in the room I was in. It was almost like being in a huge steam bath. As Martin and I lied there and waited, we began to move towards the middle of the platform. Our heads were pointing towards the middle of the platform and our legs were sticking out towards the open floor. Everyone else laying there and waiting with us assumed pretty much the same position. It almost seemed like some type of ritual and I certainly didn’t want to be the one screwing it up. One by one, a man was selected and told to come to the outskirts of the platform where he was guided through the next step in the bathing process.

I must admit that it is peculiarly interesting watching hairy, and in most cases large Turkish man with only a towel covering their privates, rub down, douse with water and scrub another man while at the same time attempting to make small talk with their customer. To be honest, after watching this procedure unfold before my eyes again and again, I didn’t know whether to describe it as interesting, strange or disconcerting. In cases where the customer isn’t Turkish, I would imagine that the conversation part can be a bit complicated. In any case, after watching the whole process go on again and again for about 20 minutes, I heard somebody yell something. Since the room was filled with men and I don’t understand a word of Turkish, I really had no idea that this “call” was directed towards me. I found that out quickly enough though when a rather large man walked in my direction and slapped me on the bottom of my feet. It appeared that my time was up.

Nervously, I moved to the end of the platform as I was directed. I was then told to lie down horizontally near the edge of the platform. I lied down as instructed and waited. After a couple minutes, a diminutive Turkish man whose chest could have been mistaken for a rug made eye contact with me and motioned to me to sit up. After I figured out what he wanted me to do, I did just that. Sitting up now, he came at me and dumped a pretty damn hot bucket of water over my head and shoulders. As I sat there stunned, the man walked up to me and guided me back down until I was lying on my back again. He then put on a pair of gloves and began to give me a very thorough rubdown. After several minutes of intense, yet relaxing massage, my personal attendant began to try to talk to me. This was a tough proposition for each of us as he didn’t speak much English and I speak no Turkish. Nonetheless, I was able to understand a few things. Actually, there were two things I could clearly understand. I was able to comprehend that the man rubbing my body’s name was Mimic and I understood that he was interested in negotiating the amount of tip I would give him for his services. For a service like this, I assumed that I would give him a decent tip, but I guess he just wanted to come to terms on an exact number. I just kind of shook my head and smiled but he continued to badger me while he massaged my body until we agreed on a 5 million lira tip. This was the equivalent of 8 USD which is a pretty decent tip on a $13 massage. I didn’t mind though as Mimic was doing a great job and I was hoping that the already established generous gratuity would result in even better things to come in terms of the massage. During the negotiation process, Mimic had indicated that this would be the case. It was a relief to have this issue out of the way and to not have to worry about being badgered anymore during my massage and bath.

Approximately two minutes later, my massage took a drastic turn. I was now lying on my stomach and Mimic was driving his elbow into, and up and down, my back. If I could see the expression on my face at that very moment, I imagine that I would wonder if I was enduring agonizing pain or ecstasy of another kind. Maybe it was a bit of both but it felt good, really good. While it didn’t hurt, it had that deep tissue feel that is somewhere between feeling wonderful and feeling painful. At this point, he stretched my legs and arms out and, one by one, pulled them in the direction of one another until they almost touched. He then went right back at my body and attacked every part of it with great fervor and intensity. He rubbed my arms and legs so hard that every bit of tension inside me must have escaped via my toes and fingers and yes, he massaged those too. Feeling as relaxed as I imagine I would feel after walking out of an opium den, I had time for only a few deep breaths before Mimic told me to turn over onto my back again. I did just that and this is where the bath began.

First, my entire body was doused with warm foamy water. After some tossing and turning from front to back on my part and lots of Mimic’s scrubbing, my soapy body was sitting up again and I was feeling about as clean as I could ever remember. Mimic then came towards me again and doused me with 2 successive buckets of much more comfortable warm water, in contrast to the very hot water that he hit me with earlier. I was pretty sure that this was the end of my bathing experience and I felt clean, relaxed and satisfied. There was only one problem; my Turkish bath and massage was far from complete.

Mimic looked at me and then pointed at one of the adjoining rooms I saw earlier. No words were needed as I knew where I was headed. I walked on cautiously in the direction of the room Mimic pointed towards while he followed behind me, albeit slowly. I was now standing in the room without a clue of what to do. Mimic was talking to someone so I was just standing there waiting for him. Standing in the middle of this room by myself, I felt quite self conscious. This is probably because I knew I should be doing something other than just standing there. Knowing that whatever I did would be wrong without the direction of Mimic, I decided to take things into my own hands. There were small pales of water everywhere so I began to fill the pales and rinse myself. I am sure that anyone with Turkish bathing “experience” who witnessed my actions said to themselves, “What the hell is that guy doing?”

Eventually, Mimic appeared and from the look on his face, it was pretty evident to me that the reason I was in this room was not to pour buckets of water on myself. He pointed to a seating area in the middle of the room to which I walked towards and sat down. He then proceeded to wash my hair and face and then gave me a very thorough scalp massage that felt absolutely wonderful. I was feeling satisfied and was pretty sure that the massage was over. Once again, I was wrong. Mimic pointed to the ground and told me to lie down in the crevice into which the water drained and which also divided the floor. I was pretty sure that I knew what was going to happen next. It must have been close to an hour ago when I saw another man in a similar predicament and for some reason that I cannot quite explain, I was subconsciously hoping to be in this same position. Well, Mimic stepped onto my back and began to walk back and forth. He dug his heels into just the right places and at times made me nearly gasp for a breath of air. As I lied there on my back, it was hard not to laugh. I was half naked in a bath house in Istanbul and there was a Turkish man in a towel walking on my back. Boy, did it feel good though. Mimic instructed me to rise and this time my intuition was right, the bath and massage were over. I thanked Mimic and gave him the tip we agreed upon before heading back to my cabin to meet Martin. After a wonderful glass of fresh orange juice and 15 minutes of “resting” time, we were back on the street. Martin and I recanted our experience and laughed. I felt clean and refreshed and sore. However, it was a good sore, the kind you get when a Turkish man walks on your back.

Let’s imagine that it is over 6 years later and I am in a different city in a different country with a different group of people.

It is September, 2006, and I am in Budapest. The sun is slowly setting and I am strolling up Andrassy ut with my Dad and Uncle. Andrassy ut is another one of Europe’s marvelous boulevards and is Budapest’ grandest avenue. As rays of sun broke through the trees onto the wide sidewalks, we stopped at a gelato shop for a sweet treat. Gelato in hand, we continued on as we had a while to ago before we would arrive at our destination, the Szechenyi Baths. We were all excited to visit one of Budapest’ most famous bath houses for a soak in their thermal waters. Eventually, we walked past the monuments that populate the massive Hero’s Square and then on through Budapest’s City Park. As we entered the park, we looked right at the “Disneyworldesque” castle and then back to the left where we located the green domed bath house that was our destination.

As we tried to figure out which door was the primary entrance, I found myself repeating the same three words, “I don’t know”. That is the response I continued to give to my Uncle Bob as he asked me numerous questions. “What are we supposed to do after we get the ticket?” “Will our clothes and valuables be safe here?” “Which door do we enter through?” “I don’t know” is all I could come up with because for me, just like Bob, this would be my first experience at a Hungarian bath house. After stopping for a moment and watching others enter the bath house, we followed their lead and walked through the entrance to the Szechenyi Baths. The next step was to approach the counter and buy a ticket. While this should be a simple task, nothing is easy when you are full of uncertainty. I decided that it was best to use the tried and tested philosophy of following the lead of others when you don’t know yourself. After all, this is all part of the fun and adventure of traveling.

After paying 2500 forunts (12 USD), we were handed a plastic card that granted us a 3 hour stay in the bath house. With the card in hand, we surveyed the entrances and had our first decision to make. It seemed that everyone was entering through the sign “Noi” as opposed to the sign “Ferfi”. See, Noi means woman and Ferfi means man. I did see a couple people leaving through the Ferfi sign but most people seemed to be entering and exiting through the Noi sign. Knowing that this could turn out to be an embarrassing situation, I reverted back to my inclination to follow the crowd when in another country and we entered through the entrance marked “women”. At least we could feel comfortable knowing that we weren’t the only men walking into the bath house through this entrance.

I have to take a moment to indicate just how much I hate following the crowd just to follow it. That whole philosophy bothers me because, in many cases, the crowd or populous or majority is wrong. In any case, I listened to my better judgment in this instance and that is what he (or she) told me to do. It was a good decision.

We slid our card over the turnstile like you do when entering the gym (actually the attendant did it for me because I couldn’t figure it out) and walked into what seemed to be oblivion. We walked left and then we walked right. Eventually, we went up a flight of stairs and met a serious, but friendly red-haired woman who spoke a little English. It appeared that this was the person we needed to talk to. After a few quick inquiries, we figured out that this was the person that would ensure that we had a private cabin to change in and store our valuables. In addition, she was also the person we needed to pay to rent the towels that we didn’t bring with us. At this point, Bob had additional questions for me regarding the safety of our valuables to which I responded, “I am leaving them in the room like everyone else, but you can do whatever you want.” We handed the woman 700 forunt to rent the towel and she handed us what looked more like a large sheet than a towel and pointed us in the direction of our changing cabins. We quickly changed and walked out back into the hallway to continue the adventure. We looked at each other and smiled. We were all in bathing shorts with the only things in our hands being our towels and the keys to our cabins. My Uncle Bob made sure to ask the woman working if she would double lock the door and we then began moving down the drab, locker room (or prison like) hallway towards the stairs we came up. We went down the staircase since that was the only direction we could go. After reaching the bottom of the stairs, there were many options as we could go straight, right or left. We had no idea what to do. At this point, we were just trying to find a way to get outside to the main, large pools and figured that this couldn’t be too difficult to figure out. Not surprisingly, we were wrong. I walked one way, Bob another and my Dad yet another. After each of us determined individually that we didn’t know where to go, we returned to the place we left from and decided to proceed on as a group. We first headed through a row of showers into an area that had bathrooms. Actually, that came in handy as I needed to use the washroom, but this was not where we needed to be. At this point, the only light that I could see was the light shining through the windows and that was telling me very little regarding my question as to how to get outside. Since I don’t speak Magyar at all and I didn’t really want to berate the people I encountered with questions, I decided I was going to figure this out for myself, no matter how long it took. I don’t know if my Dad and Uncle were in agreement with me regarding this approach, but they followed my lead nonetheless. After weaving in and out of different rooms that had showers, a sauna, steam rooms and hot pools of thermal water that ranged in temperature from 38 to 40 degrees Celsius, we finally found a staircase that proceeded upward to daylight. We went up the stairs and were finally outside. We were rewarded for our efforts as what lied in front of us was quite an impressive site. The pool area in the center of this complex amounts to nothing less than a museum of statues, fountains and domes. After examining the area and taking a few moments to appreciate what our eyes were seeing, we decided to dip into the pool closest to us.

The first pool we entered was the warm pool. With a temperature of 30 C / 86 F, sitting in this pool was extremely comfortable. This was a great place to wade in and relax for an extended period of time. It wasn’t so hot that you were biding your time until you “had” to get out and not too refreshingly brisk, which is nice for a while but doesn’t lend itself to extended periods of slothful behavior. In the middle of this large, circular pool, there is a small pool where the water is moving at a feverish pace as children and adults alike smile and run around in circles creating a whirlpool affect. I joined in the whirlpool for a few minutes before I started to get dizzy and moved on. On the outside of this smaller pool is a large, intricate fountain that is well worthy of a picture. However, there would be no picture as my camera was securely tucked away in my cabin. All I could do was face outward from the fountain and let the water that flowed from the fountain’s many spouts spurt onto the back of my head and neck for a few minutes that seemed like an eternity. I got a wonderful water massage that was much more rewarding than any picture. As I continued to relax in the pool, I looked around in astonishment at the many impressive aspects of the spa that surrounded me. To be honest, the Szechenyi Baths are much more than a bathhouse; they are an impressive architectural masterpiece that would warrant a look even if you never set foot in one pool. The spa construction was completed in 1913 in a neo baroque style and there are Corinthian columns, porticoed walkways and mustard colored walls to keep your eyes as mesmerized as your body surely is. After standing over a water jet that emerged from the bottom of the pool and streamed water between my legs, I was feeling very good. In fact, we were all feeling so good that we decided we’d better move onto the next pool or we would never make it any further.

To be totally accurate, we didn’t move onto the next pool as we decided to skip the cooler pool and let the healthy lap swimmers have the cooler pool to themselves. After all, we didn’t have swimming caps anyway and while it was warm, it wasn’t warm enough for us to feel the need to be refreshed in the brisk waters. Instead, we headed straight for the warmest outdoor pool. The temperature of this pool is 38 C / 100.4 F and this pool is used for seriously relaxation, and what looks to be, some pretty serious chess playing also. As enjoyable as the last 30 minutes had been, I quickly wondered what I had been doing in that “other” pool as I slowly moved into this one. It felt almost like a hot tub but was a bit cooler and therefore much more comfortable. It was comfortable enough that I dove underneath the water and immersed every square inch of my body in the warm, thermal healing waters. That is something I would never consider doing in a hot tub. Within a few minutes, my head, shoulders and neck were relaxing beneath another fountain whose waters numbed me to the point of complete abandonment. I just sat there in a near meditative state staring into oblivion. Actually, it wasn’t really oblivion I was staring into. It was a statue of a woman and a goose with the goose’s long neck curving around the woman’s supine body up to the nipple on one of her breasts. In the cooler lap pool next to us, there are three massive fountains that fill the pool and stun the eye. The sculpture in the middle is particularly tantalizing with a woman in the middle standing proud over two naked women below her. The whole experience is truly a grand one. To be relaxing and wading in thermal waters amongst a setting of domes and statues is like swimming in a museum. The minerals in the water are believed to be effective in healing dermatological problems, gynecological disorders and diseases of the nervous and digestive systems.

There is much more than just pools here though as I can see Magyars lounging with drinks bought from the cafes under the porticoed walkways. Above and behind these cafes are private cabins for deep tissue massages if the water ones weren’t enough. After some more time lounging, we decided to head back inside to the steam baths we had passed before. Bob and my Dad and I scalded ourselves for about 10 minutes in a room so thick with steam that you couldn’t see the person next to you or the walls in front of you. The heat effect from my wet bathing suit on the wooden benches in the steam room was so excessive that I had to stand up. As we exited the steam room and headed for the showers, my uncle said, “Is sitting in a steam room supposed to be fun?” I just laughed as he had a point. Feeling refreshed after exiting the showers, we had a much easier time finding our way back to our changing cabins. Soon, we were back in our “civilian” clothes exiting the spa through the same women’s entrance that we entered through. It is hard to believe that we even got a refund because we stayed for 2 hours and still had another hour that we had paid for. Budapest is undoubtedly a grand city and lounging in the wonderful Szechenyi Baths is one of the grandest of experiences Budapest can offer a visitor. It is a unique experience that I highly recommend to anyone looking to hang with the locals and see swimming and lounging by the pool in a whole different light.

Grand Wien

By Chris Sarcletti

City: Vienna

After being on the road for 2 weeks and traveling through parts of 5 different countries, it is hard to say what you expect when arriving at the last destination on your itinerary. I have been in this situation before and it is impossible to predict how you feel or how much energy you will have left at the end of a vacation that pushes into its 3rd week. While you still feel good because you are on vacation, you may also feel travel weary and sometimes that weariness can lead to you not enjoying your last stop as much as you wanted to or should have. At least not as much as you enjoyed Dubrovnik a week ago or Budapest just a few days back.

Well, it was 10 AM on a Thursday morning and only an hour ago we were accosted as part of a Hungarian toll way blockade that we encountered after leaving a gas station. After filling up our tank one last expensive time, a man in uniform waved us aside before we were able to make it to the toll way when he noticed that we didn’t have the ‘required’ vignette on our windshield which is required to drive on Hungarian highways. My Dad attempted to deal with a situation that was full of uncertainties. Not only were we asking ourselves ‘What did we do wrong?”, we were also very much wondering, “How and the hell are we going to get out of this?” In addition, my Dad had one other relatively major thing to consider, “How am I going to communicate with this person who is about to ask me questions I probably don’t know the answer to knowing that she will only understand half of my responses?” As my Dad attempted to deal with this tense situation, I had a pointless and short-lived argument with my Uncle. While he maintained that we were being targeted because we were tourists and Americans, I maintained that he had no idea what he was talking about and that there were probably not a whole lot of Americans driving through Hungary. I guess I was just getting tired of the victim mentality he was assuming, but little arguments like these are not uncommon after traveling with the same people for over two weeks. In any case, we paid the attendant 55 EURO for the vignette and were back on the road in about 10 minutes. I must say that my Dad did an excellent job of navigating around a potentially difficult situation. With all of us perturbed, for one reason or another, the car was a bit quiet as we made our way back onto the toll way towards Vienna. We were only a couple hours away at this point and I was hopeful that the excitement that had been a part of our trip to this point wouldn’t extinguish amongst the annoyances that are a part of being around the same people for 2 weeks in addition to the general tiredness you feel after a long trip.

We had rather little trouble meandering into the middle of Vienna as we just followed the ‘Zentrum’ signs to the Ring which is right in the middle of the city. Once we got on the ring, we didn’t have much of a problem finding the Opera House and then Avis which was across the street. Unfortunately, the small self inflicted scrape on our car was noticed by the person examining the cars and while that didn’t mean much right now, it most likely would eventually result in more money when the bill came in the mail. However, for now we were free of our car and ready to explore the city.

Within minutes of exiting Avis, we were immediately thrust into the heart of Vienna as we passed the Opera House and looked for a place to have lunch. We hadn’t even made it to our accommodation yet and still had our bags in hand as we poked around looking for a place where we could satiate ourselves. Walking around and really seeing Vienna for the first time, my mind began to wander as I thought to myself,

‘Well, if Budapest is a grand city, I don’t really know how to describe Vienna. Magnificent, amazing, stunning? Whatever the term, my first impression is that this is one of the most impressive cities I have visited. It belongs in the same class with the big boys and when I say big boys, I mean London, Paris, New York, Sydney, Rio de Janeiro, San Francisco, Los Angeles and Chicago. Yes, Chicago is undoubtedly a great city even if it is my hometown.’

As it was nearly 1 PM, our bellies were grumbling and the first decent looking place
would surely have to suffice for lunch as we would not be carrying these bags around for
long on an empty stomach. Of all places, we ended up at an Australian pub across the
street from the tourist information office near the Opera House. With the fantastic Sacher
and Mozart Cafés within a stone’s throw away, it is actually quite a shame that we ended
up eating hamburgers, French fries and meat pies for our first meal in Vienna. I can’t
even say the fries were frites. That said, we spotted empty seats outside the pub, and as
an added bonus, there was room for us to set out luggage down. This looked like
much less of a challenge than trying to carve out an area at one of the crowed cafes in the
vicinity. After our enjoyable, but mediocre lunch, we hopped a cab and found our way to
GAL apartments. The cab driver made a few quick lefts and rights and passed over a
bridge spanning a small arm of the Danube river when we spotted the Grosse
Moehrengasse street sign. One more left turn and we were in front of our new “home”.
After checking in and enduring the normal minor difficulties one encounters when
checking into a residence in another country, we opened the door to a truly wonderful
apartment. It was clean, efficient and perfect for us. As splendid as the apartment was, it
was not a time for relaxation and we were all aching to get back out into the city center to
take in as much as possible on this beautiful day.

We made our way back out into the city in search of Tram #2. Based on the description of the Tram 2 route in my guidebook, I thought a spin on Tram #2 would offer us a nice introduction to the city since the tram circles the outer ring which encompasses many of Vienna’s major sights. A Viennese appetizer if you will. Well, if this was an appetizer, it was a tasty one as this quick 25 minute tram ride made me very ravenous for more. Seeing one magnificent building after another in addition to a slice of the meticulously maintained City Park will do that to you. I hadn’t been in Vienna for more than two hours, but the grandeur that Vienna is famous for was already plainly obvious to me. The numerous monuments I saw while riding on the tram created a buzz inside me that perforated throughout my entire body. I was just excited to be here and experience the city. It is rare for me to arrive in a city and have that special feeling that is almost hard to describe if you haven’t experienced it yourself. It feels good to have it again. Amazingly, I didn’t feel tired or annoyed anymore. Instead, I actually felt invigorated.

Three hours and lots of walking later, I was sitting in an area that had absolutely the most
magnificent string of cafes I have seen anywhere. I had been walking around the Graben
and Kohlmarkt areas and was enamored with what was going on around me. What else
could I do but sit back and take it all in? Sure, there are overpriced shops and restaurants
in this area where the food costs more than it should but this is to be expected when you
are in ‘the place to be’. As over hyped as these types of areas can sometimes be,
Vienna’s hot spot deserves the hype, and then some. There were various types of street
entertainers, a group of break dancers and ample opportunities to people watch. With one
café after another and ominous, massive St. Stephen’s Cathedral looming over your
shoulder, no matter where you are sitting, you have a good seat. Whether it be afternoon,
morning or night, this is definitely the place to be.

As for St. Stephen’s Cathedral, I guess you could almost describe its Gothic interior as
“Batmanesque”, if that is a word. I was in shorts but decided to bend the rules
and walk inside because I needed to see what was inside of this hulking structure.
As much as I hated acting as if I didn’t see the sign that clearly indicated ‘No Shorts’, my
guilt quickly faded when I saw the impressive interior of the church. The church’s spire
undoubtedly stands out from the skyline from many vantage points throughout the city,
clearly pointing to a spot that is not to be missed. We spent the rest of the evening in this
wonderful area. First there was coffee, then beers, then dinner and then more beers. At
some point, there may have been a gelato also. Sure, there was more to see but we didn’t
feel like seeing it right now. We were content where we were at and were immersed in
what was around us. Between it all, there was much people watching and almost as much
monument gazing. What a place to relax.

At the end of the night, we followed the street to its end until we were but a few blocks
from our apartment. As we approached our apartment, crossing the river, I even saw a
man made beach down a flight of stairs on the banks of the Danube. It looked like they
were setting up a stage for some music over the weekend. Another wonderful Wien
surprise as there seemed to be one around every corner. I could get used to this.

After resting leisurely at another fine café and enjoying a gorgeous berry tart and fine Viennese coffee for breakfast, it was now time to explore more of Vienna’s public transportation system. Oh and that berry tart for breakfast? I couldn’t go on looking at one beautiful pastry after another without biting into one and decided that there was no reason to wait any longer. It was well worth it as this pastry tasted every bit as good as it looked. We had no problem determining where we needed to go as we hopped on the U4 subway line without even having to ask a random person a question and were on our way to the Schonbrunn Palace.

Schonbrunn was the Hapsburg’s summer palace and is one of the most impressive sights I have seen in any European city I have visited.

This museum celebrates the palace's best-known tenant, Emperor Franz Josef I, who lived here for much of his life. Franz Josef was very much loved by the people and had a strong belief in maintaining connection with them. He was not above allowing commoners to come into his quarters to express grievances or offer suggestions for the good of the empire. He was also a believer in the virtue of hard work as it was not uncommon for him to begin his workday at 5:30 AM and end it late at night, only taking Sundays for rest. This is very impressive as many emperors lived a life of luxury and did little to try and strengthen the empire they inherited. This museum also devotes considerable attention to one of Franz Josef's wives, Sissi. She is better known as Queen Elizabeth of Austria. The Schonbrunn museum openly tells the sad story of Sissi's poor mental (and eventually physical) health -- including a 19th century-style eating disorder where her only sustenance during the day was strained raw beet juice. So much for the life of luxury!

The opulence and grandeur that were so obvious in the 40 rooms we toured were, to some degree, expected. I guess what really surprised me was how much style Franz Joseph, Marie Antoinette and Sissi amongst others brought to this magnificent palace. Maybe I expected impressive but boring décor that suited that period of time so long ago. Instead, I found tasteful, imaginative décor in nearly every room. In one room, there were lacquered plaques brought in from China with stories of daily life unfolding within the lacquer they were inlaid in. In many of the rooms, there were enormous, beautiful landscape paintings depicting various facets of nature. In other rooms, my neck started to hurt because I was analyzing the details of the impressive paintings that adorned their ceilings. If you were decorating a palace today, you might want to contact Marie Antoinette for some suggestions. Well, maybe not as she followed her husband to the guillotine at the age of 37, although I don’t think her design preferences had anything to do with that.

One room I particularly remember had a blue and white design that was exquisite with every intricate detail perfected. Amazingly, the paneled woodwork in this room was of the same blue and white design and color scheme that was present throughout the room. There were probably over a 100 different panels in the room with Asian daily life sketches in the same exact color pattern within each panel. All were unique. Can you even manage how long it would take to do something like this? It is amazing to me.

Every room was fantastic with no expense spared. There was one beautiful painting after another done by artists who were specifically commissioned to please the royalty with their wonderful talents. A young Mozart even performed at this fantastic summer residence at the behest of Maria Theresa and her consort, Francis I.

As impressive as the inside was, I was actually overwhelmed by the palace grounds surrounding the fortress. There are no terms to describe how perfect the grounds are. I was fascinated by the vibrant colors of the beautiful flowers and the thousands of bushes and trees trimmed perfectly, one in the same way as the next. I guess you could call this a museum garden. The colors of the flowers can only be described as robust. In one section, the violet color of the flowers was so vivid that it made me stand and take notice as it almost looked like the pedals had been ground up and poured onto the lush green grass. The paths that intertwine between the maze of trees and gardens seem to be endless. Maybe they are. I can only dream of living in Vienna and making my way to Schonbrunn for a Saturday jog that would continue for hours on stretches of paths that dissect the rows of trees and extend in every direction. For those lucky enough to call Vienna their home, this is actually a reality since the grounds are open to the public and free to enter. This is also an area to sit with a loved one and hold hands as a place this beautiful must be romantic. And it is. The benches on the paths look like they should be part of a portrait that includes a lonely man reading or a loving couple embracing. The paths don’t stop either. Instead, they veer right and left repetitiously until they converge at the magnificent Gloriette war monument. This monument stands tall and proud at the end of a path that a parade of people follow to the top. From afar, it almost looks like a parade of ants making their way up to a forbidden palace. The palace grounds have many other features -- most notably the old Viennese city zoo. I call it old because is has been continuously active since 1852, which means that it made it through two World Wars that both damaged Vienna. There is much more to the palace and the grounds than I have described as this is a place you could really spend all day at. I feel fortunate that I have been able to see and appreciate the magnificence of this inspiring site.

As we rode the U4 metro line back to the Schewedenplatz transportation hub where we began this excursion, I sat quietly as I felt a sense of peace after seeing so much beauty in one place. As I sat, I also salivated quietly in anticipation of a lunch I had been craving. Ever since we arrived yesterday, I have taken special notice of the Doner Kebab stands near each metro station and thoughts of sinking my teeth into one of these gorgeous sandwiches had been ruminating in my head for the last 24 hours. I was ready for and about to indulge in a purely Viennese lunch. Ok, not really. Historically, it would be more like a typical Turkish lunch although there have been slight variations added to the döner kebab to satisfy the tastes of the many countries that now call the “kebap” one of their favorite fast foods. This includes Germany, Austria, UK, Ireland, France, Australia, Finland, Canada and Japan. Unfortunately for me, the US is not included on this list. So, what is a döner kebab? Well, the words döner kebab literally mean “turning roast” and this is the name given to a Turkish dish made from lamb, beef or chicken. In many cases, there is a combination of lamb and beef together. It is essentially the same dish as a shawarma or gyros with slight differences in the type of meat and spices used. Generally, a döner kebab sandwich is served with a salad made from shredded lettuce and includes toppings such as onions, tomatoes, eggplant and maybe some hummus if your lucky. Usually there is a choice between a hot sauce (sambal or a red chili paste based sauce) or a yoghurt sauce containing garlic (like tzatiki sauce) and herbs. In some cases, sheep’s cheese or feta is thrown into the mix. The reality of it is that the döner kebab has become one of the world’s most popular fast foods. It deserves merit alongside the Australian meat pie (which surprisingly I ate yesterday), the American hot dog and the cevapcici sandwiches that seem to be an inherent part of the fast food pyramid in every Central European country I have visited. In addition to the wonderful taste of the sandwich, it is a bit of an “experience” watching the kebab “attendant” carve the meat off of the cone of beef or lamb or chicken. In any case, my lamb and beef sandwich was wonderful as it was packed into a roll with hummus, eggplant, lettuce, onion and spicy red sauce. It really hit the spot.

After lunch, we meandered up Rotenturnstrasse to Graben and then to Kohlmarkt. We took in more of the fabulous café atmosphere in this veritable temple to people watching and shop browsing. Eventually, we strolled up to Michaelerplatz towards the beautiful domed entrance to the Hofburg Palace. As you walk towards the dome, it’s hard not to stop for a minute to really look at and appreciate its beauty and stature. We walked through the palace grounds eventually and continued on until we ended up at the Rathaus. Located in front of the impressive City Hall building, this area has picnic tables in between 2 rows of ethnic food stands selling everything from Mexican taco salads to different kinds of pasta combinations to bratwursts and chicken stir fry. For us, it was a great place to stop and have a large beer in the sun. For the rest of the afternoon, we just savored wonderful Vienna. Inevitably, we ended up enjoying the café culture and wonderful weather as we couldn’t think of a much better way to spend an afternoon.

We spent the evening in a local suburb called Grinzigen where we visited some wine bars, better known as heurigen. So, what is a heuriger? Well…..

Heuriger is the name given to many Austrian wine-drinking locales where patrons can experience the most recent year's wine. A heuriger has legal limitations different from those of a tavern or restaurant. Only its own wine can be served and it can only serve a limited selection of food from a buffet. Additionally, a heuriger can only be open a certain amount of time during each year. In areas like Grinzigen where there are many heurigen, it is usually guaranteed that there will be at least one or more of these wine gardens open. Most heurigen have music which is typically provided by two Heurigensänger who typically play the guitar and accordion. They walk from table to table looking for tips and will perform on request any songs from their limited repertoire for the benefit of all the guests who are present.

Getting to Grinzigen was extremely quick and easy. We took the U4 subway line to the last stop, hopped on tram 38 and hopped off at the Grinzigen stop. I wish public transportation at home in Chicago was this seamless. We jumped off of the tram with a few other nervous tourists wondering if this was the place listed in their tour book with the wine “bars”. I took a chance and told them emphatically that this was Grinzigen to provide them with some relief. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if we were at Grinzigen, but the 3 or 4 successive heurigen I saw to my right as we drove through the village told me that we had a fun place to spend the night, whether it was Grinzigen or not. Well, this was the right place and this town was ripe with charm.

Grinzigen is a small, suburban village that it is full of character. I felt like I was in a town somewhere along the Romantic Road in Germany. It was hard not to be taken in by the winding streets and neat buildings, each one different then the other and possessing its own character. However, the real reason we were here was to visit the wine gardens and that is what we did.

We walked into at least 7 or 8 wine gardens and had a drink or something to eat at 4 of them. Some might say they all look the same. After all, they do all have a large outdoor seating area that is lush with trees and filled with tables and chairs where patrons can enjoy food, drink and each other. From the garden area, all of the patrons can see the backside of the restaurant. The buffets inside the restaurant are overloaded with various cold cuts, salads and cheeses in addition to hot items like pork and beef roast, lamb shank, potatoes and all sorts of vegetables. The violin and guitar music is charming and was even accompanied by some live singing at one of the places we visited.

However, as similar as the heurigen appear to each other at first sight, it didn’t take but a few moments to realize that they all had their own identity. Whether it was the food, music, wine or atmosphere, each place we visited had specific nuances that gave it its own flare. Inevitably, each venue ultimately succeeded in offering a comfortable enough environment to relax in that it would be very easy to spend an entire night in one place eating and drinking without getting up from your seat to go anywhere but the washroom. It would be a drunken night, but a good one at that. I particularly enjoyed being amongst the local population on this evening. There were definitely a few tourists relaxing in the wine gardens we visited, but the majority of the people enjoying conversation, wine and food were locals. It was Friday and they were probably ‘letting go’ a bit after a long week at work. We did our best to blend in and didn’t have much of a problem. We found a seat at a table, plopped down and ordered a glass of wine. Not too difficult, huh? All of the wine is from the region of Austria surrounding Vienna. We stuck with whites and most fell somewhere between a Riesling and a Chardonnay. They were nice and very drinkable. We enjoyed the atmosphere, music, wine and food. At one place, we had a fine cheese plate that hit the spot before settling into some spare ribs at another heuriger we visited. Between anything we ate, there were many glasses of wine. It was about 10 PM and we were feeling a bit tipsy when we decided to make our way back to the tram stop.

Twenty quick minutes later, we had boarded and deboarded the tram, transferred to the metro and were back in the middle of the city. Five minutes later we were standing on the banks of the Danube Canal with a beer in hand listening to a live Latin band and watching people dance in the sand. All of this and we were a 5 minute walk away from our apartment. What else can you ask for? The Viennese use the Danube canal for everything its worth with portable bars, live entertainment and ample opportunity to relax, flirt, talk, dance or gaze into the river. I can’t think of a better way to spend a Friday evening and I can’t think of a better place to spend it in. Every Viennese citizen is very lucky to call this city their home.

It’s my last day in Vienna, a city known for its coffee, cakes and café culture. That meant one more morning sitting at Julius Meinl, Café Mozart or one of a thousand other cafes on the corner of every street enjoying a pastry and a nice flavorful cup of coffee. Instead, I put my head down like a bad boy being scolded, walked into Starbucks and ordered a Venti cup of over roasted bean juice to go. I couldn’t even bring myself to order one of their pastries. You ask why?

Well, although Starbucks isn’t my first choice for a caffeine fix on the way to work, I don’t boycott the place either. It has more to do with ‘giving in’, which is something one has to do when traveling in a pack of three for an extended period of time. After hearing my Uncle Bob talk about the illustrious American cup of coffee that he had been yearning so ravenously for the last 15 days, it would have been impossible for me to just walk by Starbucks and act like I didn’t see it. When I saw Starbucks sitting there, right next to a fine Viennese café I might add, I swallowed and took a deep breath and said, “Do you want to grab a coffee at Starbucks this morning Uncle Bob? I am sure you can get an American cup of coffee there. We can get it to go and walk in the direction of the Museumplatz.” Graciously he said, “If that is what you guys want to do, I am fine with that.” Given the fact that Bob hasn’t made one decision regarding any restaurant, café or sight we have visited in over 2 weeks, he wasn’t about to take a definitive stance regarding the cup of coffee he coveted for what seemed like an eternity. Well, I made it for him and walked into Starbucks.

In all honesty, I was having a difficult time understanding his fascination with an American cup of coffee. We are sitting in fantastic cafes in a city renowned for its coffee and café culture and somehow our discussion constantly turned to American coffee. Actually, it is a bit ironic as American coffee isn’t exactly held in high regard throughout the world. When he asked the servers at a couple places if he could get an American cup of coffee, as if they didn’t know what it was, they would just look at him and say, “What, isn’t it just a coffee with or without milk?” He would say, “Yes, I like it black.” They would respond, “No problem.” I guess my point is that the only thing that makes a cup of coffee American is the fact that it is 2-3 times the size of the normal size cup they bring to the table. In Europe, the size of the cups is usually a bit smaller than the size of the cup of coffee you would get at a typical diner in the United States. By the way, the coffee in Europe is a hell of a lot better because it actually has taste. I guess if Bob wanted 3 cups of coffee, he would have to pay for them.

Starbucks in hand, we began our walk up the street in the direction of the Musuemplatz towards our first destination of the day. We were going to the Kunsthistorisches Museum. This is a world class art museum displaying some of the Hapsburg’s art collection. After another splendid walk, we arrived at the museum quarter, which is impressive in more than a few ways. The natural history museum is directly across from the Kunsthistorisches Museum and is an equally impressive architectural structure. The grounds between the two museums are a fantastic place to lounge, relax, read, kiss and basically enjoy your surroundings. It is another one of Vienna’s fantastic park areas with trees that look so perfect that they must have been trimmed by someone extremely anal and an abundance of people watching opportunities. From the exterior, the museum is a massive, detailed and impressive architectural structure. You know, the kind of building that looks like it has been there for hundreds of years and is meant to make everyone that passes by it stop in their tracks and look while commenting to their friend how impressive it is. Upon buying my ticket and walking into the museum, it quickly became obvious that the paintings and sculptures within the museum are housed within one massive sculpture itself. Looking up at the beautiful dome inside the museum, it seemed I should be in a church instead of an art house. There are beautiful marble pillars spanning from floor to ceiling with intricate details and color patterns that demand your attention for at least few seconds, no matter how much you want to walk by, ‘get on with it’ and see the paintings. See, for someone like me who is not an art historian but just a spectator who appreciates art now and again, you sometimes have this feeling that you ‘have’ to see a certain gallery or museum and you hastily run through it in an effort to “get it over with”. You still appreciate what you see, but not nearly as much as you should. On this day, I didn’t want to do that, didn’t attempt to do that and fortunately didn’t repeat my past errors.

The Kunsthistorisches Museum demanded that I savor the moment and the masterpiece in front of me at nearly every stop I made. I had a similar feeling running through me when I was at the Schonbrunn Palace. It really is a special feeling and not one I experience often. I guess I could give you a quick overall recap and tell you that I was as impressed with what I saw at this museum as I was at any other major art house I have visited in the past including the Louvre, Orsay, Prado or Vatican museums. The collection is truly world class and speaks volumes about the taste of the Hapsburg rulers. However, that would be too broad of a description as this museum deserves more than a paragraph summary.

The half of the museum dedicated to Italian art is fantastic. I was particularly impressed with some of Pablo Veronese’s massive paintings that are startling by their size and presence as well as the stories told within. Mantegna’s 'St. Sebastian' painting of a Christian martyr standing erect, perfect and stoic, despite being needled with arrows, is awesome. The fact that the painting is three dimensional with roads receding into the distance and floor tiles beneath makes it that much more impressive. Parmigianino’s "Self-Portrait” is really a revelation based on its creativity and ingenuity. He paints himself while gazing into a convex mirror and reproduces this pose on a convex piece of wood. The wood appears exactly as Parmigianino did when he was actually staring into the mirror. On the other hand, Raphael’s ‘Madonna of the Meadow’ is absolutely precious. The colors in this painting are so soft and inviting, it feels as if you want to jump into the painting. Almost! I would describe Caravaggio as a man’s painter. I have no idea what he looks like but in my head, I picture a husky cigar smoking, whiskey drinking, well spoken, no-nonsense bastard. Well, whatever he looks like, he holds nothing back in ‘David with the Head of Goliath’ as David holds Goliath’s severed head in his hand and pushes it forward to the front of the painting. The face of Goliath is none other than Caravaggio himself. This is an astounding and strange self-portrait.

As I exited the Italian Renaissance section of the museum, I could have left altogether and been satisfied, but what fun would that be. There would definitely be some contrast in the Northern Renaissance section of the museum, although I was pretty sure I had seen the best of what the Kunsthistorisches Museum had to offer. Well, as is typical in matters of this kind, I was once again wrong. Pieter Bruegel and Peter Paul Rubens had something to say about this. Bruegel’s slice of life scenes tell stories the way only a storyteller can; only instead of using a pen, Bruegel uses his brush to paint images. I particularly liked the stories he told in the ‘Peasant Wedding’ and the ‘Peasant Dance’. In the ‘Peasant Wedding’, the wedding cuisine is much more the focus than the forgotten bride and the ‘Peasant Dance’ portrays some pretty clumsy clogging. There was another painting by an artist that was not familiar to me, Albrecht Durer, which was stunning. His ‘Altarpiece of the Trinity’ is so beautiful, colorful and perfectly geometrical that it deserved 5 minutes of my undivided attention. With Christ forming a triangle framed by clouds that are structured in a triangular landscape and three sided crowds of people, he achieved perfection in describing the Trinity. He didn’t stop there though. He actually painted himself as a small figure standing at the bottom of the painting in the right hand corner holding a plaque pronouncing that this masterpiece was painted by Albrecht Durer in 1511. He is the only mortal in the painting and behind his small figure there are roads that recede into the distance. Durer’s figure stands in a different dimension while the ‘divine’ happening described above takes place in another dimension. He does an excellent of job of separating the divine from the mortal.

I left the museum feeling as content as I’ve ever felt after leaving an art museum. From here, we headed to the Rathaus in front of the City Hall for some lunch. We had a beer here yesterday but I was determined to try the food which looked so scrumptious. With so many dishes calling my name, it was tough to choose what to pick and enjoy in front of the tremendous City Hall building. After much deliberation, I passed on another kebab sandwich and the bratwurst that looked so good and instead chose a fried potato, onion and bacon dish that was served with German style coleslaw. It was fantastic and I washed it down with a half liter of ‘light’ beer. As I enjoyed lunch, I absorbed the activity in this area on this beautiful and busy Saturday. There were kids playing and eating and families and couples laughing and enjoying the weather, food, drink and atmosphere. If you ask me, they looked pretty contented in their environment.

After lunch, we were left again without much of a plan. We wandered around the Ring for a bit, popped into a café for a coffee and eventually found ourselves walking into Vienna’s lush city park. It was no wonder to me that this place was as fantastic as every other part of the city I have seen. Stadtpark has beautifully manicured paths to run or walk on, gardens to stare at, ponds to contemplate over and of course a lot of people watching. You may be saying to yourself, “I have been to a lot of parks that have that.” Very true indeed, but did those parks have live classical musical concerts almost every night the weather permits, a beer garden, a café overhanging the primary garden area, street artists and roaming musicians? I took a moment to absorb the atmosphere with a stein of Spaten in my hand and came to a very simple conclusion. I am in love with Vienna. It has stolen my heart. I am as wrapped up with Vienna as I ever was with Amsterdam or Paris and I never thought I would find a city that impressed me as much as Paris did. I was wrong though. It has taken me far too long to see this wonderful city but I am lucky to be here now.

As we headed back to our apartment to get ready for our final dinner, I looked into the distance and saw what looked like a substantial beach on the banks of the Danube. It looked as if people were relaxing in lawn chairs and enjoying drinks and music. As I got closer, I realized that I wasn’t seeing things and there was a rather large beach area on the banks of the Danube River that had been created. There was a large Strandbar with mellow, funky music that reminded me of Portishead and Morcheeba playing overhead. In addition, there were people relaxing with drinks on lawn chairs spread out onto a nice sandy beach. These are the kind of lawn chairs and the kind of environment that just beg one to sit down and stay for a while and that is exactly what we did. For the next hour or so, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves as we relaxed and chilled. This is one more example of how Vienna utilizes every facet of its gorgeous city to the utmost. Finding this area was just another pleasant surprise hidden within this amazing world class city.

Honestly, there is no reason for me to be taken aback by the treasures I have found around every corner in Vienna. Any guidebook would tell you as much. The real reason I am surprised is because this is my first time visiting Vienna after traveling to so many other places. I guess sometimes you think you’ve gotten to the point where you wonder to yourself what is it that you will see that will continue to stir that travel bug inside of you. Well, after seeing Vienna, it is good to know that the craving and desire to see the world are still alive and well inside of me.