SNITZEL PALACE (SCHNITZEL PALAST)

Yes, you heard right. A place called Snitzel Palace Schnitzel Palast exists in this wide world, and it is waiting for YOU, in a place called Vienna, Austria, with all manner of treats in store. [Pictures, Videos and comments in red--by Jill].


The funny thing about Snitzel Palace Schnitzel Palast is that it was not even remotely the highlight of my recent voyage to Vienna, but it is just such a catchy name that it had to be used in some capacity during this post, so why not as the title?


To explain: this past weekend, I was lucky enough to hop in a taxi, hop on a plane, hop on a bus, and then hop, skip, and jump all the way to a hostel in the heart of Vienna, in which I essentially made one final hop into Jillian's arms, who met me there in a moment of quiet exhilaration (as we were in a lobby full of strangers and could not shout and jump in happiness at finding one another again after four whole months of separation! it's true).
Once we breathed sighs of relief having made it there safely after much travel, we stared at each other for a moment, finally asking, "What exaaactly were our reasons for choosing Austria as a travel destination again?" A question to which neither of us had a sufficient answer, so instead, we proceeded to address the most pressing issue: food. Thus, we found our way to a lovely cafe, as Vienna is well-known for its coffee culture (of course, I'm sure you already knew that, didn't you), and sat down to a delicious meal of egg-and-steak sandwiches, french fries, more eggs, beer, and don't forget the coffee plus whipped cream (Ramey knew this was a specialty, unfortunately our waiter didn't find it amusing when we mispronounced the name and said, "Oh, you know, the one with whipped cream.")


Having filled ourselves with Viennese goodness, we then ventured to a magical place called "Belvedere Palace," which has extensive gardens, a stunning view of the city, and also happens to be my second favorite museum in the world (i bet you are asking "but what is your first favorite museum in the world??" to which I will respond with a mysterious smile. I bet you're wondering how did Ramey get you to go to a museum? To which I will respond with...). They have the largest collection of paintings by Gustav Klimt, the most well-known of which is "The Kiss." (all lovers out there, I suggest you purchase a postcard of this painting and give it to your significant other- it is sure to go over well, I promise you.)

It was a perfect museum romp, which left us (what do you know) hungry again!
Here is where it gets interesting.
As we wandered through the streets of Vienna, searching for a restaurant in vain as the skies began to darken, we eventually stumbled upon an enormous, unidentified, gorgeous building, with innumerable amount of fancy people milling about outside. Needless to say, Jill and I, although hungry and tired and dirty, were immediately intrigued. It was almost like moths attracted to lamplight-- we found ourselves drawn inside this mysterious building and suddenly, waiting in line at a ticket booth.
Once up to the front of the line, brave Jillian asked the stern ticket lady, "Excuse me, but what exactly is this?"
Silence. And then a very stern answer, informing us that we happened to be standing in the concert hall where Mozart frequented, on the evening of a performance by the renowned Icelandic Philharmonic, and tickets were 85 euros each, thank you very much.
We trudged away, tails between our legs, despairing that neither one of us was willing to break the budget for such a thing, despite its splendor. Once outside, I heard a voice calling us- at first, I thought wildly that it must be the ticket lady, wanting to taunt us some more about how we were poor college students and would maybe, just maybe, one day deserve such a privilege, but! Wonder of all wonders, it happened to be a pleasant, older Austrian woman who wanted desperately to give us a free ticket to this performance as her husband was unable to come. I tried to explain that there were two of us, and one ticket would not be enough, but she simply said, "It is a PRESENT for you. A PRESENT!!"
How can one say no to a present?? We sure couldn't.
It seemed to be a sign. Almost without speaking, we walked back into the concert hall, up to the man taking tickets. I showed him my ticket and Jill discreetly tried to blend in with an oncoming crowd when the man said to me, "WAIT. You must check your coat!!"
Thus, we checked my coat for a grand total of 85 cents. Jillian now held the same ticket, showed it to the man, who then turned to me with raised eyebrows.
"And where is yours?" he asked. "Oh, uh um uh I think I must have left it in my coat pocket, so sorry!" I exclaimed apologetically. Jillian looked at him like he was crazy, and said "She showed it to you already, don't you remember?"
The poor ticket man. He stood there, quite befuddled for a moment, only to furtively whisper, "Go ahead." We scampered up the stairs, hardly believing it, and then the dream became even more surreal.
The concert hall was magnificent- a concert hall fit for Mozart himself (oh, wait, this WAS his concert hall!). Almost every chair was filled. We discovered that the seat for our (one) ticket was in the second row of the entire audience... we walked to the seat, found that there were, incredibly, two open seats rather than one, right next to the beaming older Austrian lady, who welcomes us, saying "Of vunderful! You found another ticket!! Come, come, sit down!"

I tried with all my might not to look extremely guilty or to burst into laughter. We sat there, and the concert began. No one came to take the extra seat. I think it was meant for us.
The Icelandic symphony itself was surreal. Several notable things included:
1. A conductor who could have been a reincarnation of Ludwig Beethoven himself (sorry, it's true. He kinda looked like John Malkovich in Jonah Hex http://www.csmonitor.com/var/ezflow_site/storage/images/media/images/0618-film-review-jonah-hex/8163408-1-eng-US/0618-Film-Review-Jonah-Hex_full_600.jpg), who would flail his arms about while conducting, knocking microphones every which way, and looking more appropriate for a heavy rock concert with his movements, than for a classical performance.
2. A pianist who played the piano more lightly and more beautifully than anyone I have ever seen.
3. 5 total curtain calls.
4. Lasting a duration of 3 hours total.
5. Finally dozing off for a second-- when I came to consciousness again, my eyes immediately met those of a young man playing the viola in the front row, who was veritably laughing at me- yes, laughing. I stared at him incredulously, and he then proceeded to wink directly at me. Yes, he winked (sure he did, Ramey..).


Walking out of that concert hall, Jillian and I had to pinch each other to make sure that all this was real. An incredible concert for the small fee of 85 cents. This does not happen every day.


How could anything be crazier than this? Well. I will once again smile mysteriously, but luckily will provide you with a description of the following day. (much more brief than this past one, I hope it was not too long!)
Somehow we decided to venture to the Danube River Valley the next day, and somehow there happened to be a bike rental shop ten steps away from our hostel, and somehow there was an extremely friendly Australian man (an Australian in Austria... something is awfully funny about that) named Adam who provided us with an enormous binder filled with maps, two bikes, and recommendations for several bars in the area.
Finding ourselves out on the street, bewildered with bikes, was hilarious. We caught the train and after several mishaps which involved a stubborn train door, Jillian finding two pretzels, and an angry train conductor, we finally found ourselves in Melk, Austria, a gorgeous little town which was to be the starting point of a grand adventure. 
After a lunch of some delicious strudel (it was really very good), we set off on our bikes, and rode through the countryside on a path directly next to the Danube River, with each sight becoming more and more gorgeous that before. It was a perfect fall day, the leaves were all colors, the river was bright blue, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. We biked and biked, picked apples, rode on a ferry across the Danube, and found ourselves in the midst of miles of vineyards-- surreal, everything was surreal.

After dinner of bread, cheese, and local wine, we emerged happy and full and-- oops. It was already dusk (it was a lovely sunset, just so you know) and we discovered that we still had 12 kilometers to bike until we reached the train station. 12 kilometers = ? miles ???? 
Hmm. We had no choice but to press on. 
Biking through vineyards during the day is wondrous. Biking through vineyards at nighttime in a foreign country is scary. Let that be a lesson to everyone.
Ever so happily, after an hour or two, we finally found ourselves in Krems, lovely Krems, the end of the endless bike trail. To reward ourselves, we stopped in a bar that was full of locals. They found us fascinating, bought us beer, made us sign the "guestbook" (it was a blank notebook before we signed it), took pictures, etc etc. We got out of there ASAP, let me assure you- but hey, it was our fifteen minutes of fame!

We grabbed some french fries from Snitzel Palace (you know..Schnitzel Palast), a restaurant right by the train station (see? it was not so exciting after all, was it? but it sure was delicious), grabbed our train, nearly missed our stop, realized after many calculations that our ride had been 25 miles total (!!!), and then rounded off the day with two hot chocolates each. I still think the whole thing might have been an elaborate dream.


I understand that this post is incredibly long, but I also feel that the stories of this past weekend could be compiled into an interesting children's book one day. Thank you for reading (ditto), and I recommend that if you one day go to Vienna, go without any plans at all, because you're bound to find something interesting!