Vienna likes to sleep in. At least most of the cafes I walked past this morning, perhaps it's only an american thing to go for coffee before ten. I did find this incredible whole grain/organic bakery on Mariahilferstrasse, though. Really great.
It is a humongeous city. Well, I suppose it is the captitol. The tall building and skinny streets remind me of San Francisco. It is an ancient city, but there is an energy to it and a youthful vibrancy to its artistic scene. I am sitting in front of Cafe Sperl in a small yard with a few flowerbeds along a moving street. The "Oma" Kaffee I ordered was very good, I wonder what it was exactly.
This reminds me of a story I started writing about two people with no names. The man was a traveller, and in the opening paragraph he is sitting on a bench contemplating the "Tasse von Himmel" he had had in Vienna. Or somewhere in Austria. Ironic. Perhaps this was one of my dreams I didn't realise, but now I'm living it. Having an amazing cup of coffee in the center of Vienna and writing a few notes down. Quite artistic and a bit on the romantic side. Oh well, as I once said to a friend, "I'm a sailor, a musician, a writer and an artist; I think I'm allowed to be romantic."
On one hand it's a little difficult to be traveling by myself. On the other, I feel a little more relaxed and the days lie before me. I can see what I want in whatever order, or even wander around in circles if I wish. I can follow in the footsteps of Fatty Goodlander and write for four hours a day, or sit and contemplate Viennese architecture. But ultimately, things are much more worthwhile when you have someone to share them with. There isn't anyone to tast this coffee and help me try to distinguish the ingredients to an OmaKaffee, or remark on the day's events. However, my pen is always here and he's currently quite willing to contribute to this experience.
Now it is four minutes past ten and Vienna seems to be stretching her arms and yawning.
