Austria: Breakfast Views in Vienna, Irish In Innsbruck

No mention or explanation of it in their journals. But for some still-unknown reason, when Tom and Jim left Munich, they rolled right past Salzburg and headed straight to Vienna.

Maybe they felt they were falling behind on their schedule. If they wanted to see everything on their list (which had already changed several times), they had about a month to get it all “seen.” They’d need to make some tough decisions about where to linger and when to keep moving.

Still, skipping Salzburg? Decades later, they can easily imagine the smug voices of the backpackers they met on the Af Chapman in Stockholm: “What? No Salzburg? Idiot Americans!” Tom and Jim now prefer to think of the decision as a “rookie error.”

Whatever the reason, five hours after leaving the lively sights and sounds (and beer gardens) of Munich, they found themselves in another world entirely. When they stepped outside its main hauptbahnhof (railroad station), Vienna’s broad boulevards and stately buildings seemed to sniff at their scraggly appearance and now battered backpacks. Behave yourselves, the surroundings seemed to warn. You’re in the capital of the (former) Austrian-Habsburg empire!

By this time in their travels, the friendship-saving strategy of splitting up for the day for solo exploring was well established. But in Vienna, time was tight (again, self-imposed), so they stuck together, taking in the Rathaus (City Hall), the Parliament, the Hofburg Palace, the Crown Jewels, the University, the Opera House, and the Burg Theater. They checked out the Lipizzaner Horse Arena (home of the famous Spanish Riding School), the Augarten Palace (home of the renowned Vienna Boys Choir), and, on their way to St. Stephanplatz (home of the eponymous cathedral, the tallest in Austria) walked past a building with a plaque stating that Amadeus Mozart once played there.

They weren’t done yet. They hopped on a tram to Schönbrunn, summer home to many of the Habsburg rulers, most notably Franz Joseph. Jim had sworn off tramping through yet another palace or castle, but he joined his friend for this one and was glad he did—maybe because Tom did not insist on touring all 1,441 rooms or because Tom managed to repress his characteristic urge to chat with every staff member in sight.

Their final stop was the Gloriette, an imposing, ornate neoclassical structure built so that the emperor had something pleasant to gaze upon while he breakfasted. The Gloriette returned the favor, offering an excellent view of the palace gardens, fountains, the palace itself, and, today, the Vienna skyline. The view was so enchanting that Franz Joseph eventually moved breakfast there.

The Gloriette at Schonbrunn. Cozy little breakfast nook for the Emperor.

Exhausted now, the boys headed to the station for the night train to Innsbruck. Night was creeping in early, and from the train, they could see illuminated road signs pointing in the directions of both Vienna and Budapest.

“Are we that close to Budapest?” Tom asked no one in particular. He pulled out his crumbling map to confirm. “Another reminder of how far we are from Ohio!”

Searching for Irish

The eight-hour overnight train to Innsbruck was crowded. Tom and Jim found themselves sharing a couchette with four other backpackers. Seasoned travelers, they showed the boys how to convert the two three-seaters into side-by-side bunks. Not nearly as comfy (or roomy) as a sleeper compartment, but at least they’d be able to stretch out for the night versus attempting to sleep upright.

It didn’t work for Jim. While he may have dozed off a bit now and then, he had trouble falling asleep with his back against the back of a complete stranger. And someone in that couchette must have had a generous helping of beans for dinner that night.

Jim’s grogginess disappeared, though, when they arrived in Innsbruck and stepped outside. It was snowing lightly, and several snow-capped mountain peaks rose up behind the buildings. Jim had never seen mountains in person, and this view stopped him in his tracks. Now THIS, he wrote in his journal, is it. (Whatever “it” was.)

One reason for stopping in Innsbruck: Notre Dame, their alma mater, had a study-abroad program there. Maybe the alums could score a meal and a couch for the night. The only problem? They didn’t know anyone in the program. They did, however, come up with a plan. Jim pulled on his ND T-shirt and kept his jacket open—despite the cold—as they wandered about the town.

Amazingly, this half-baked plan worked! They were spotted and later that day they were in the comfortable living quarters of several ND sophomores—Mary B, Kevin G, and Wim D, and several other coeds—enjoying a cooked meal of chicken with rice and cream of chicken while sharing stories about Notre Dame but mostly funny stories about the young American students trying to adjust to life abroad. Before retiring for the night, these generous young Domers took the boys to see the ski jump from the 1964 Olympics, still in use. 

It had been a long and exhausting 24 hours, and Tom and Jim slept soundly—thanks again to the warmth and generosity of the Fighting Irish. The next day, on the train en route to their next destination, they reflected on how nice it was to spend time with the students—especially the coeds. They wondered aloud if the trip would be different—maybe even better—if they had female travel companions for more than a single day or train ride.

Time would tell.

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That was Then. Now for the NOW: Reflections on the quick visit to Austria

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