When people learn of my travels to Vienna, they typically want to hear about all the things they associate it with: the gilded neoclassical buildings, the opera, the horsedrawn carriages, Wienershnitzel, Sachertorte, and Mozart. But while all of that is indeed here, it is very marginal to my experience of the place. The centralmost 1st district - with its maze of white stone, processions of tourists, ticket peddlers dressed as historical figures, and endless shops selling fur coats and stockings to overcoiffed ladies - is a place I keep away from inasmuch as possible. The absurdly grandiose architecture of the famous Ringstrasse is something I look upon with fond irony, but it does not define the city for me. My experience here has always been that of an on-and-off resident, rather than that of a tourist, and "my" Vienna consists of real neighbourhoods, out of the way cafes, small parks frequented by locals, and other places you are unlikely to find in tourist guides. For me, these places are what makes Vienna special, what creates the captivating atmosphere that so draws me here. And yesterday I spent the day wandering through one of them, on my bike.
While many are no doubt familiar with the Prater - a large park that runs through the Southern part of Vienna and includes an amusement park, a stadium, various athletic facilities and horse trails running through wooded alleys - few venture beyond it into the tiny neighbourhood of Freudenau on the outskirts of town. On the map it does not look like much, and descriptions of it are not particularly inspiring: there is a golf course and a horseracing track, but otherwise it seems unremarkable. But the maps and guidebooks say nothing of the gravel trail that will take you through what can only be described as an enchanted forest, past a cluster of mysteriously abandoned mansions, ancient stables and ethereal-looking horses.
The horses are unexpected, because they really are in the middle of the woods, and not always contained within enclosures. They can be found wandering around untethered between the moss and ivy-covered tress, grazing serenely. I suppose so few people happen through this area, that no one bothers them.
The horses are not only beautiful, but tame and very sociable. You can pet them and feed carrots to them, which I sometimes find lying around.
I've been trying to understand what the horses are doing there and who they belong to, but there is never any human around to ask. I could be wrong, but I do not think that these particular animals are racehorses; the racehorses I've seen are not kept like this and don't behave like this either. A friend suggested that these are therapy horses for handicapped and emotionally disturbed children. Apparently Vienna has an equestrian therapy program, and this could be where the service animals are kept.
Riding on the gravel trail through Freudenau is a soothingly surreal experience. There is such a haunting sense of history, and I am nearly always the only person there. I can hear nothing but the sounds of overhanging tree branches creaking, ravens' wings flapping, horses hooves clip-clopping over dried leaves, and my own bicycle tires rolling over gravel.
Perhaps the uneven gravel, with its occasional ditches and root protrusions, explains why not many feel compelled to venture here. But Jacqueline handles it without a problem.
On the way back to civilisation, I am delighted to pass one of my favourite signs in Vienna. It's charming, because it suggests that the sign is for the cats themselves, rather than humans. "This way if you're a cat."
Of course it's only a sign for a cat shelter.But
Katzenheimhas a more romantic ring to it, and I choose to imagine it as a genteel home for wayward felines - no doubt with miniature
Jugendstil furniture and catfood served in little crystal dishes.
Right before Freudenau connects back to the Prater, there is a small cafe where I like to go. With traditional outdoor cafes like these in Vienna you never know what to expect. Some will serve awful microwaved food and packaged supermarket sweets that they simply open and dump onto a plate. Others will serve homemade dishes prepared with local ingredients that are as delicious as anything you could order in the best Viennese restaurants. This one leans toward the latter and I am never disappointed with even the simplest food I order there.
I don't usually feel compelled to photograph food, but readers have been asking about this more than anything else! So here is a ridiculously stereotypical meal, photographed just for you: frankfurters and sturm.
Sturm is a sort of fermented young wine, made from the first grape harvest of the season.It is naturally fizzy and low in alcohol, and tastes somewhat like a grapey version of hard cider. There are loads of vinyards outside of Vienna that compete to make the best Sturm in celebration of Autumn, and it's typical to sample them from as many places as possible this time of the year.
And a Viennese Apfelstrudel: heavy on the apples (local and fresh, not canned or jellied!), tart and not sweet, and very light on the crust - which is thin like filo dough, only soft instead of crunchy. There are also raisins mixed in there with the apples, which I could personally do without - but the rest I love. It's hard to eat Apfelstrudel elsewhere after getting used to the version they make here.
It's difficult to explain my attachment to Vienna without discussing my personal background at length. But I hope these pictures help express what words fail to.
Vienna is a large, sprawling city and some of my favourite places are difficult to access without a bicycle. Cycling is truly the best way to travel off the beaten path and to visit all the places I love - on the road and off.
Have you ever cycled in a dense fog?
For the past couple of days, we have been surrounded by this stunning, surreal landscape. There is no distinction between sky and ocean. The dunes, grasses and rosehip bushes are wrapped in a milky whiteness. There is a tornado warning in effect, but for now everything is eerily calm.
To watch someone approaching through the fog from a distance has always fascinated me. It looks as if the person is coming from nowhere, or from the sky.
I took the opportunity to see how Graham's lights would perform in these conditions, and they were fairly well visible - even at slow speeds.
The lights on my Rivendell Sam Hillborne are powered by a Shimano Alfine hub.
The headlight is aBusch & MüllerLumotec IQ LED Cyo Senso Plus, and its performance is stunning.The beam is not just powerful, but surprisingly large -so that cycling in the dark feels as if there is always a street light on. There is a standlight feature (the light remains on for a few minutes after the bicycle stops), as well as a "senso" feature, whereby the light turns itself on and off depending on how dark it is.
The tail light is aBusch & Müller 4D-lite Plus, which has classic looks, 4 LEDs, and the same standlight feature as the headlight (though the Co-Habitant thinks the standlight on this one is not sufficiently bright).
An additional feature of this tail light is that it is surrounded by a metal cage, which prevents the light from being damaged when it is bumped. This is very useful when the bicycle is dragged through doors and left at bike racks.
I am confident that others can see me in the fog with the light set-up I have on this bicycle. Seeing the road, however, is another matter. What do randonneurs do in these situations? I cannot imagine that any bicycle light can really be strong enough to act as a true fog light in the daytime.
The most typical use of twine on a bicycle, is to secure the inner edges of handlebar tape. Normally, bar tape is secured with black electrical tape and left as is, but I find that this looks unfinished. With twine, the handlebars will look more appealing and the tape will be more securely attached.
After wrapping your bar tape and securing the inner edges with electrical tape, the twining can begin.
If you've finished twining your bars and still crave more, do not despair: There are lots of other places on a bicycle where twine can be used. I twined the chrome connector piece between the rack and the rear stays on my Pashley, because I was not satisfied with how the expanse of chrome stood out in an otherwise green and black colour-scheme. The dark amber twine softened that area up, and integrated it nicely with the wicker basket, brown leather saddle, and handlebar grips.
Here is a close-up of the twined rack connector. I thought that this was a failry subtle detail, but to my surprise, several people commented on it while examining my bicycle.
My most daring use of twine thus far, has been the twining of my Shimano Nexus shifter. My reasons for doing this were two-fold: I thought that the big rubber shifter was too modern for the aesthetic of the Pashley's handlebars, and I also found it unpleasant to the touch, especially in the sumemr heat. Covered with shellacked twine, the shifter blends in better and is more comfortable for me to use, as the twine provides a better grip than the rubber. There was some concern regarding whether the twine would adhere well to the rubber, but this was not an issue; just wrap it tightly prior to shellacking.
Of course, once you do this to your shifter, there is no going back: the shellac will disfigure the rubber if you ever decide to remove the twine and you will need to buy a new one. Twine at your own risk!