Leaving

Our time is nearly done in our slightly shabby-chic apartment. The Ikea kitchen has served us well, and the bedroom with the glass wall dividing it from the lounge (the apartment was rented by a business before we took it over) has seen a variety of visitors come and go. The walls are at such an angle the furniture stands away at the top and it feels like they’re threatening to fall. The uneven parquet floors move and creak - no secret trysts in the middle of the night in this place! A princess used to live here, we were told. It has the red velvet padded bedroom doors We laughed when we saw them. “Would you like them to go?” asks the letting agent “No, no! please leave them we say” only in old movies have we seen anything like them. The royal crests etched in the lounge doors to reinforce the proof. We’re quite certain that the hallway, with the little door for servants to feed the fireplace, led to other rooms on this floor. No princess, even one relying on the beneficence of her family would settle for the three rooms we have. 

Leo Perutz used to live in this building and despite the horrors that happened in his life time in this magnificent city, it seems unlikely he would have got much material for his magical demons in his writing from this beautiful building. Did his skilful algebraic equation warn him to leave when the Anschluss was done? But, perhaps the conscription plate above the front door that tells the sons of people who resided here. 

The tiny balcony would pass no health and safety evaluation, but stepping outside the double doors and looking down the road gives us a view of the steeples of the Votivkirche and the neo-gothic Rathaus and these keep us out until the cold in winter, or the heat in summer, get under our skin. We stop and admire the skill of the people who built these things and reflect on the stories they hold and say to each other “how lucky are we?”.

The double windows leak sound and four floors down the rumble of the old ‘D’ tram wake us in the morning, the bell warning cars and people to get off the tracks.

This city starts early.

The old trams, all curves and polished wooden seats, three high steps up through the bi-fold doors, alternate with the newer models; lower and sleeker and build for politeness, allowing the encumbered, disabled, the old and young to step on board with the elegance of the well-heeled and alongside those who move with ease.

I took a ride on an old ‘D’ yesterday. It circles the city and I had a last view of the Rathaus. Rathausmann stands on the highest steeple, looking across the absent city walls with a self-satisfied stare to the Hofburg Palace beyond the Volksgarten. I could take in the sight of the whole building today, because unusually the Rathausplatz was empty. No doubt the city is gearing up for the next big event, Disarmament Day and later, the Christmas markets.

The seasons are so defined here; they drive the activities in the city as they do in the countryside. It’s the first autumn fog and the oranges trees in the summer palace next door are being packed up for their winter hibernation.  It seems appropriate to leave today as city packs up for a small hiatus before the winter events bring it to life again.