Vienna Revisited – twice!

The tramp decided to give himself one last chance to like Vienna and so decided that he would remain there while the trampess did her duty in London. It was even decided that the trampess should return to Vienna so the tramps could do a few things together that had eluded them on their first trip. A visit to the Spanish Riding School being one.

When the trampess returned it was not directly to the campsite but to Manhattan – probably the best fitness centre in central Europe: 5 floors of exercise equipment, classrooms (for yoga, power stretching, creative step and who knows how many other types of fitness classes), assessment rooms, saunas, swimming pools, spas, changing rooms, and restaurants in the most modern glass building in a business mall. Quite, quite unexpected. Also unexpected, but perhaps not surprising, was the fact that the tramp spent his entire time there and never managed to determine whether Vienna proper was worth the detour! It was, of course, not just the splendid facilities but the outstanding personal trainers that kept the tramp on his dedicated mission to improve his fitness. In fact, the tramp had taken the liberty of signing the trampess up for an assessment the day after her arrival. After a heavy two week schedule in London (with a less than intense workout schedule), the trampess might have preferred to work up to an assessment to ensure her best performance, but the tramp’s enthusiasm was not to be denied. The tests were impressive and took over an hour and a half: VO2max, strength, flexibility, body alignment, BMI, balance. The 10 page evaluation was ready later that day (including muscular diagrams in colour to show relative strength and flexibility); the discussion with the senior trainer was scheduled for a few days later. Both senior trainers (the one who did the evaluation and the one who interpreted and the prescribed the programme) had been professional athletes. This was serious. Everyone who went was serious. No room for wimps. But the upside (apart from acknowledgment that the trampess, despite her two decadent weeks, was in excellent shape) was a short strength programme (most people waste their time a gyms, spending far too long on muscle building) – apparently 30-35 minutes on strength training is optimal, more is a relatively low return investment – and one built entirely around free weights (excellent since the WLW has no room for anything else!) – again more functional and more efficient than machines. Perhaps best of all, was a wonderful balance training session (for those of your who may be of a certain age, balance work is the new Sudoku only better). The one area that your trampess received a “needs to improve” mark for was flexibility – again a few key multipurpose stretches, and I was in business.

Now no guide book would send you to Vienna for Manhattan, but I assure you Manhattan is worth the detour. Somehow, though, after a hard day there, the tramps decided that they deserved some treats. So concerts, operas, Mass with the Vienna Boys Choir, two trips to the Spanish Riding School (one for the grand performance, one for the training session), hikes through the Schoenbrunn gardens and visits to Franz Josef’s apartments there were interspersed with the demands of intense balancing, strength and aerobic workouts. Not to mention yoga sessions. In my innocence, I thought yoga demanded precision and mindfulness but not exertion. HA! Not at Manhattan. Some classes were so small (4 students) that the intensity was exhausting (personal attention insured that mistakes were not allowed). Even in a class that required no previous training, handstands (yes, handstands) were the order of the day. The quality of Manhattan is not just in the trainers, but in the trained!

After our extensive efforts to engage ourselves in Viennese history and life, the tramp concluded that there was much to like. Franz Josef was an interesting and likeable man and his home at Schoenbrunn reflected his modesty, hard work and simple tastes; he was just unfortunate to have as his political opponent one of the greatest political brains Germany ever produced. Timing is everything – even for emperors. His wife, on the other hand was clearly a difficult case: a neurotic anorexic obsessed with her own beauty who abhorred her role and was only happy in her gym (oops!) or travelling (oops!). Her neuroses were passed on to her son who together with his mistress committed suicide at Mayerling (at least his death gave rise to a beautiful ballet, though that cannot have been any consolation to his father). The riding school was, despite being a tourist attraction of the first order, remarkable. The Vienna Boys Choir, on the other hand, was a disaster, a terrible mix of the sacred and profane. The choir sang mass in the small chapel in the Hof (the emperor’s palace in town). The expensive (yes, you pay to go to mass!) tickets were for seats; the cheap seats were standing places not at the back of the church or in the side aisles but in the centre aisle between the pews. Photographs were allowed, so the hoards in standing places were taking pictures while those in seats (which creaked – not good for the music) could barely see (an interesting take on the first shall be last, and the last first). I won’t even mention the chaos of trying to get to communion if you were in the back seats. The singing was beautiful but the experience anything but. It wasn’t helped by bringing the boys down from the choir (where they were during the service and where they couldn’t be seen) down to the front of the chapel to take a bow at the end. One can imagine Franz Josef inviting the boys for a hot chocolate after mass on a special Sunday but not having them come down for applause at the end of a service. On the other hand, in ironic counterpoint, a concert performance of Mendelsohn Bartholy’s Elias with Thomas Quasthof was a deeply moving, spiritual experience in an entirely secula