Michael Smith
Editors’ Note: Michael Smith’s early-90s Eastern Bloc adventures began in 1991 in Russia (Moscow and Leningrad), and continued further East, in 1992, in Prague (erstwhile Czechoslovakia) and Budapest (Hungary). Michael finds himself in Vienna (Austria) in this concluding installment.
Day 7
A change of plans this morning. We decided to leave Budapest early to make the most of Langer Samstag in Vienna. Towards the end of the last century, shop opening hours were generally much shorter than they are now. Growing commercialism and the perceived need for greater profits has forced retailers to extend their opening times. In 1992, Germany and Austria had the tradition of closing shops at lunchtime on Saturdays, with the exception of one Saturday per month, known as Langer Samstag (Long Saturday). In Britain there was a similar tradition of “Early Closing” each Wednesday. It seems unthinkable now that shops would consider closing early, but such has been the onslaught of profit-driven materialism over the past few decades that such a move today would bring about financial ruin. In doing so, however, maybe we have lost the opportunity to do something other than shopping.
We reached Schwedenplatz in Vienna at around 2 p.m. On a regular Saturday everything would have been closed at this time but, because today was a Langer Samstag, we had plenty of time for shopping, and even Kaffee und Kuchen (Coffee and Cake) in one of the famous Viennese coffee houses.
On this particular afternoon I did my shopping with two students, and we decided we should try some of the famous, local coffee and cakes. The coffee house we chose was situated directly opposite St. Stephen’s Cathedral in the main square. Upon entering the crowded shop we went directly upstairs to see if there was a spare table. As soon as we reached the second floor, one of those rare serendipitous moments occurred, as a table became free with a perfect view overlooking the cathedral and square. The coffee and cakes turned out to be just as wonderful as the view—a small oasis of perfection in the general turmoil of a school trip.
Day 8
Being a Sunday, we were able to make our coach tour of Vienna through light traffic, visiting the Upper Belvedere (Prince Eugene’s Ceremonial Palace), the Lower Belvedere, including the Palace Gardens, and the magnificent Schloss Schönbrunn, including the Gloriette and Neptune Fountain.
Finally, we visited the Hundertwasserhaus, created by artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser between 1983 and 1985. Nowhere in the building is there a straight line, and the façade and interior are painted in bold blocks of bright colour. We even saw the Ferris Wheel in Prater Gardens, synonymous with Harry Lime in the film The Third Man. All this was done, once again, under a clear blue sky, with the promise of spring in the air.
It is worth noting here that Vienna is where Shin and Choi, in 1986, finally managed to defect from North Korea to the West. Although I wasn’t aware of their story at the time, it seems strange now that our journey had taken us to three locations also visited by that Korean couple in their quest for freedom. Vienna was an obvious location for their successful attempt to defect as it was the hub of Cold War spying. Their eventual method of defection, involving a car chase through the Viennese streets and a dash to the American Embassy to ask for asylum, would not have looked out of place in a James Bond film. (To learn more about this extraordinary tale, I can recommend Paul Fischer’s excellent book, A Kim Jong-Il Production: The Extraordinary True Story of a Kidnapped Filmmaker, His Star Actress, and a Young Dictator’s Rise to Power.)
At noon, our guide left us, and our coach driver returned to the hotel for a regulation sleep before the long drive ahead of us. We walked to Heldenplatz for lunch, but a biting, cold wind made eating most uncomfortable. We’d had lunch al fresco almost every day on the trip but always the same bread roll with meat and cheese, piece of fruit, chocolate biscuit and soft drink in a carton.
We visited the Kunsthistorisches Museum and, in the late afternoon sun, we walked to the cathedral, split into smaller groups for yet more shopping before being rejoined by a suitably refreshed coach driver, who drove us to a restaurant where we stayed until around 9 p.m., before departing for the long drive home.
By midnight everyone on the coach had settled down. We reached the German border at 2.15 a.m., and were back at school by 7 a.m., an hour earlier than planned. Phoning ahead meant we were indeed met by expectant parents keen to be reunited with their offspring. After nine days on the same coach, the title of 1992’s biggest hit song, ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’, took on a whole new meaning, and surely not one anticipated by Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain (although, given the completely incomprehensible lyrics, I can’t quite be sure on that last point).
We’d made it. We’d visited three of the great European cities, travelled hundreds of kilometers, been lost in some very gloomy places, seen endless colonnades, and eaten more than our fair share of packed lunches. We’d even, unwittingly, followed in the footsteps of two of Asia’s most famous film makers.
There is a Chinese saying (some would say a curse): “May you live in interesting times.” Reflecting on the trips to Russia and Eastern Europe, I can see now how, as a school, we’d left a trail of destruction across central Europe of which those 17th-century Turks would have been proud. Old Mother Russia fell apart, leaving a loose federation of arguing states, each eventually seeking and gaining independence from the others. Even Leningrad changed its name back to St. Petersburg. Czechoslovakia was no more, Slovakia declaring its independence just four months after we’d visited. In Vienna, a fire had all but destroyed the Hofburg not long after we left. These were indeed interesting times in Europe as the old, Cold War order crumbled, and in many countries capitalism replaced communism as the driving ideology. For us, at least, the Iron Curtain had been drawn back.
In the past year, Michael Smith’s fiction has appeared in Fabula Argentea, Witcraft, Literally Stories, Heimat Review, The Hooghly Review, Little Old Lady Comedy and many other online literary journals. To date, he has self-published Gruseltal, a humorous novel, and two collections of short stories, Fonts, then Songs, all available from online bookstores.
Website: https://frucht-schleifen.weebly.com/
