A Walk in Vienna

July 3, 2016: 2:44 AM MT, 10:45 PM Slovakia Time

I'm sitting here by the open window of an apartment balcony somewhere in the country of Slovakia, listening to the sounds of crickets outside, mingled with the whirring of passing traffic and banter in a foreign language below. It's a beautiful clear summer night, the stars seemingly reflected by the streetlights and glowing apartment windows in the sleepy urban scene below. I should really be sleeping off some jet lag, given our early start tomorrow with the kids' camps, but I just HAD to jot down a few highlights from our journeys in downtown Vienna--the first European city whose streets these feet have touched--before the memories dim.


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It was about one in the afternoon Vienna Time when our 14 slightly jet lagged feet stepped off the City Airport Train and hit the downtown sidewalks. As is the case when setting foot in most new cities, the first thing you notice is the architecture. These splendid European buildings impress themselves upon the imagination for the same reason that mountains do: their height gives one a sense of the size of the surroundings compared to the individual, their detailed forms hint at the artistic capacities of their creators, and an aura of history seems to cling to them. It's a kind of "everyday history," taking the form of a thousand little unspoken stories. Moreover, like mountains, the curving, mazelike streets which wind between these buildings suggest endless possible exploration--the compelling promise of whatever is "around the next corner."

Although some of these streets were quite broad, the tallness of the structures lining either side made them appear narrow, with humanity reduced to something like a river of ants flowing between them. As I maneuvered this river amongst the other ants, I began to detect further differences between these streets and Canadian ones. For instance, the pedestrian "walk" signals were green instead of white, the street signs and store fronts spoke German, and the smell of cigarette smoke was much more pronounced in the air.

A "One Way" sign outside the famous Opera House

I hadn't long to ponder these observations, however, before the form of an enormous cathedral rose in my sight to the darkening of all other thoughts. St. Stephen's Cathedral, the apex of our excursion, stood clear in the sun before us, larger than life. "Do you guys want to go in?" Dr. Paulson asked. Yeah, we did!

Stepping inside was like entering a huge cavern, somewhat  dim and scented with the aging of stone and wood, but breathtakingly ornate at the same time. We stayed in the cathedral for some time, marveling at the grandeur of the ancient structure with all its copious artistry before venturing up the elevator to its roof. I stood in the breeze overlooking the red and grey roofs of Vienna, listening to the sound of horse hooves on the cobblestone streets far below and reveling in the undertow of excitement I felt behind the tide of jet lag-induced tiredness.

Back at street level, we stopped outside Mozart's apartment, stopped at an outdoor cafe and savored some strudels before catching the train back to the airport to meet up with Mikel. The rest of the day was spent in further transit, driving through the Austrian countryside and across Slovakia to reach the place from which I am ultimately writing to you now. The landscape, with its wheat fields and tree-smattered farmland, reminds me greatly of Canada save for the Slovakian billboards, the European license plates of the surrounding traffic, and the occasional castle on a hill. My phone died and left me without a means of capturing it all on camera, but I'm certain more of that will come. But first--some much needed sleep!

Thank you all for your continued prayers as this journey progresses!