Wine!
I PLANNED ON doing nothing today—at least nothing as touristy as going to the Schoenbrunn Zoo (ok, maybe in two days). Of course, I had my usual coffee at the local café—Kaffee Melange and salami sandwich—where I greeted the kind people behind the bar. The old lady already recognized me. “The English-speaking kid,” I overheard her say in German. Don’t make me translate that.
As I soon as I was done reading Morning and Evening by CH Spurgeon for my devotions, I chatted with a fun-looking family of five—three children, all of them girls, aged 11, 8, and 2, and they were on break for Easter. I recognized them from yesterday, as I am now in the habit of baby-watching. Their mother, probably a little older than me, told me they came from Munich. I said I was from Manila. “Our au pair was from Manila,” she said. They kids smiled; they missed their yaya.
I told my brother my plan for idleness over FaceTime, and I expected rebuke, but he did, in fact, encourage me. “Maybe sleep for the entire day, then just treat yourself to a good supper,” he said.
This I did, until it got sunny outside. Most of the snow had melted, so I figured I wanted to see the city’s outskirts. Maybe I wouldn’t die of hypothermia. I learned that Vienna is perhaps the only city where Heuriger vintners exist—places that serve only wine they produce. This was how I came to Zawodsky, a wine tavern about an hour away from Hütteldorf.
After calling my friend and colleague Racquel over Viber (she was adamant that I go), I bought a ticket to Wien Handelskai. After seven stops, I reached Wien Oberdöbling Bahnhof, where the plan was to walk for 23 minutes, covering 1.7 km (don’t be too impressed—it’s all in Google Maps), until I would reach Reinichgasse, and there the tavern would be: Weinbau Zawodsky.
But I got sidetracked by a book store, and I felt cold so I headed to Kurkonditorei Oberlaa Wien, another café, where I had latté. I read a book, sipped my coffee, did some baby-watching, but the amusing thing was that at 2 pm, the place was packed with the geriatric population. I love the old people—that’s why I became an internist—so I had fun watching and overhearing them. I took my time there; Zawodsky wouldn’t be opening shop until 5 pm.
The sun revealed itself, and for a moment there, I thought of remvoing my scarf. I continued to walk to Grinzinger Alle, turned left to Kaasgrabengasse—a very, very long street—and found Stefan-Esders-Platz. From the bench I could already see the vineyard. I collected myself because I was palpitating from excitement, then made a left to Reinischgasse, where I knocked on the door of the restaurant and ordered a glass of Gemischter Satz—white wine—and Kraut und Nodel.
This was the most Austrian thing I’d done so far. I felt like I had barged into a home where a party was going on, and I was given free food. The people were warm, and the rest of the customers—all of them locals, no tourist was in sight—were smiling at me, as if to ask, “Was I enjoying my stay?”
Of course, I was: the wine, the food, the sights. Thank you, Lord.
As I soon as I was done reading Morning and Evening by CH Spurgeon for my devotions, I chatted with a fun-looking family of five—three children, all of them girls, aged 11, 8, and 2, and they were on break for Easter. I recognized them from yesterday, as I am now in the habit of baby-watching. Their mother, probably a little older than me, told me they came from Munich. I said I was from Manila. “Our au pair was from Manila,” she said. They kids smiled; they missed their yaya.
I told my brother my plan for idleness over FaceTime, and I expected rebuke, but he did, in fact, encourage me. “Maybe sleep for the entire day, then just treat yourself to a good supper,” he said.
This I did, until it got sunny outside. Most of the snow had melted, so I figured I wanted to see the city’s outskirts. Maybe I wouldn’t die of hypothermia. I learned that Vienna is perhaps the only city where Heuriger vintners exist—places that serve only wine they produce. This was how I came to Zawodsky, a wine tavern about an hour away from Hütteldorf.
After calling my friend and colleague Racquel over Viber (she was adamant that I go), I bought a ticket to Wien Handelskai. After seven stops, I reached Wien Oberdöbling Bahnhof, where the plan was to walk for 23 minutes, covering 1.7 km (don’t be too impressed—it’s all in Google Maps), until I would reach Reinichgasse, and there the tavern would be: Weinbau Zawodsky.
But I got sidetracked by a book store, and I felt cold so I headed to Kurkonditorei Oberlaa Wien, another café, where I had latté. I read a book, sipped my coffee, did some baby-watching, but the amusing thing was that at 2 pm, the place was packed with the geriatric population. I love the old people—that’s why I became an internist—so I had fun watching and overhearing them. I took my time there; Zawodsky wouldn’t be opening shop until 5 pm.
The sun revealed itself, and for a moment there, I thought of remvoing my scarf. I continued to walk to Grinzinger Alle, turned left to Kaasgrabengasse—a very, very long street—and found Stefan-Esders-Platz. From the bench I could already see the vineyard. I collected myself because I was palpitating from excitement, then made a left to Reinischgasse, where I knocked on the door of the restaurant and ordered a glass of Gemischter Satz—white wine—and Kraut und Nodel.
This was the most Austrian thing I’d done so far. I felt like I had barged into a home where a party was going on, and I was given free food. The people were warm, and the rest of the customers—all of them locals, no tourist was in sight—were smiling at me, as if to ask, “Was I enjoying my stay?”
Of course, I was: the wine, the food, the sights. Thank you, Lord.
posted on April 22, 2017
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