Vienna - Day 3

Up, slightly later than usual after last night's adventures, to a cooler day.

Out, and past the Spanish Riding School:

and the Hofburg:

to our destination for breakfast - Cafe Central:

Around the beginning of the 20th century, the writer and poet Peter Altenberg was such a regular that he had his mail (and on occasion, his laundry) delivered to Cafe Central.  In return, the Cafe maintains a life-size figure of Altenberg just inside the door:

Not too shabby as a breakfast venue:

For me, Sacher Würstel (a type of Vienna sausage)

and scrambled eggs and ham for Amanda:

The Würstel comes with a bread roll, two different types of mustard, and some sort of finely grated hard cheese, and I tucked in:

EXCEPT it wasn't hard cheese - it was freshly grated horseradish...  When my nasal cavities and sinuses had recovered (and I knew what to expect from subsequent bites) I thoroughly enjoyed my breakfast, as did Amanda hers.

Out, and a stroll to Berggasse 19 - Sigmund Freud's apartment and associated museum:

This was not Psychology graduate Amanda's first visit; she is seen here on our honeymoon in 1991:

Buzzed in, we entered the imposing hall of the apartment building.

Towards the rear of the apartment block:

back towards the front door:

The rear courtyard houses garages for other residents in the building:

On the landing, half-way up to Freud's apartment:

Made it:

Behind perspex, some of Freud's luggage, a travel rug and hip-flask:

while above, his hats and cane hang, conveniently placed for grabbing as he exited:

Personal items:

Amanda reads all about everything:

The designs for Freud's chair:

and the chair itself:

One of the rooms in the apartment:

As part of his studies, Freud would observe young children playing in front of this mirror, recording the way they reacted towards it:

A time line, showing the history of the apartment:

All Freuded out we set off again.

Time for a drink and snack at Joma:

The view through the window - the Vermählungsbrunnen:

On learning that we had last visited the city 27 years earlier, our young waiter asked if it seemed very different.  "Yes", I replied, "the first time we visited Vienna it was an Austrian city; now it's an international one".

Out, and to Shakespeare and Company.  At the time, we were under the impression that this was related to the famous bookshop in Paris, but it appears not.

We have never been to the original Parisian store, but based on what I had read of it I was significantly underwhelmed by this pale imitation.

Amanda salvaged something from the visit by acquiring this book about the original, written by the owner:

Round the corner; in the shadow of, arguably, the oldest church in Vienna:

I sat down to phone Ronnie Scott's and make our booking for October::

Back past the Vermählungsbrunnen:

and the Ankeruhr

We had planned to stop at Porgy and Bess:

to collect our tickets for that night's gig, but they were shut, so we made our way to Bier and Bierli at Operngasse 12 for a late lunch / early dinner:

As we headed back to the hotel and past the Opera House, we noticed storm clouds gathering and the first few drops of rain started to fall:

After a rest and a freshen up, at 19.35 we donned our full-length travel raincoats and ventured out into the torrential rain, thunder and lightning.  Part way to Porgy and Bess we stopped in a doorway to orientate ourselves and the rain stopped almost as suddenly as it had started in the afternoon.

Arriving at the venue we picked up our tickets and made our way to our table:

which could not have been any closer to the stage:

We were happy:

and amongst the first ones there:

Who knew Father Christmas was so into jazz?

We were there to see the Italian pianist Enrico Pieranunzi and his quartet.  I had more than a dozen of his albums but had never seen him live, so when I found out about this gig as I was planning the holiday it seemed like kismet:

After two sets of superb jazz the band took their bows:

and we stepped outside, to find that the rain had stopped.

A leisurely stroll through the still-wet streets, back to the hotel.