Flying back early morning on Monday, when I landed in Edinburgh, I tumbled into a black hole of research papers and have been unable to recount last weekend, until now. But on this lovely Sunday, I found some time to make tortillas and finish this post I started last weekend.
Sitting in the Budapest Bistro on Pilmagrasse in Vienna, enjoying a cappuccino. As one of the only coffee shops open before 10 am in this city, and given its proximity to the flat, it was the perfect option for me to slip away for a coffee while my traveling companions slept in.
I confess to jaywalking here, a deed that is very looked down on by German and Austrian citizens. I usually do my best to adhere to the customs of the area I am visiting, but I am known to need small moments in life where I can release my inner, ever-constant beast of rebellion. Besides, there were only three cars on the streets, and even fewer people passing by on this sleepy Sunday morning. Christmas markets must be keeping this population up late into the night, which is very understandable.
As I stepped into the quaint coffee shop this morning, the barista greeted me with a cheerful “Morgen.” I spotted a festively adorned table positioned by the window. Indie-folk music played on the speakers, I couldn’t help but think that Christmas music would be a more fitting choice, but no need to enforce holiday cheer just yet. I am just ready for the Christmas season! Across the room, a gentleman with a long beard and a beret was seated at a lone table, his fingers loosely cradling a glass of white wine.
Initially, I was torn about coming to Vienna. When I was invited by Megan and I saw the bargain of flight deals through Ryanair, I purchased the tickets out of loyalty to my past and future self. Kaylin living in North America would have chastised me for turning down a 30 euro ticket to Vienna. How many times are you going to have the opportunity to visit Vienna for that price in your life?! She would’ve scolded me. I have summative exams! I would’ve countered. And the flights are only that cheap because you board them in the middle of the night! My sensitive, and highly important, sleep schedule would’ve added.
But I made the right choice and embraced this opportunity; not allowing the frugal, introverted, stressed-out-about-research-exams version of Kaylin to interfere.
Thus, this weekend marked my inaugural European Christmas market tour. Somehow, in the last few years, I have enjoyed numerous voyages to Europe within the months of November and January, allowing this staple of the festive season to slip past. I recall walking around Munich in November 2021 when they had multiple squares boarded up as they set up their markets. I would peer at the construction barriers entirely unaware of what was to come. Then, in January 2023, I sauntered around Nuremberg and Prague as they were just clearing what was left of the magical Christmas cheer that continued to elude me.
This ongoing allusion ended this week, I have booked a ticket to the Empire of Christmas Markets, the heart of the tradition, during the Advent of the Christmas season.
After arriving late the night before, I was the first to rise on our initial morning in Vienna. Eager not to waste a single minute in this new city, I bundled up in a few sweaters and added some tights before setting out on a mission to explore as many cafes as possible. Vienna is renowned for its fabulous coffee, so I felt compelled to investigate. The morning walk through the city was bright, with the sun illuminating the cheerful colors of the architecture and highlighting the last remnants of autumn.
My first stop was Cafe Kafka, chosen mostly because it was conveniently on the way to the city center. Staring out the window and sipping my latte, I wasn’t entirely convinced that this beverage was what all the rave was about. And thus, I decided to stroll to another coffee shop. Megan and Lucia had apparently not yet awakened to see my texts inviting them for a cup of coffee, so I carried on with my solo coffee exploration.
My next destination was a coffee shop 10 minutes down the road. “No panic coffee” would be where I would write all my summative essays if I lived in Vienna. Simple, with vaulted ceilings, a neutral wall coloring, and wonderful coffee.
While utilizing the wifi to perform a few research tasks, I noticed tiny flecks of white falling outside of the window to my left. Snow?!?! I had been incessantly checking the weather forecasts the week leading up to this trip, praying for snow. All of the sources univocally reported there was little chance for snow this weekend, with a mere 30% chance around eleven in the evening. I couldn’t believe my eyes as the small flecks grew into flurries, dumping from the sky that was sunny not twenty minutes prior. Packing up my laptop, I messaged Megan and Lucia that I would meet them at the city center. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!
I found them already sipping hot chocolate in the Christmas market in front of St. Charles Church.
The three of us, Megan, Lucia, and I, visited far more Christmas Markets than I had originally planned. There was one in almost every square it seemed, and we would unknowingly run up to one as we were trying to navigate to the other. Then, of course, we would oblige the moment and walk under the little archways and allow ourselves to be swept away into as many little Christmas villages as we could, perusing the diverse stands filled with crafts created by local artists. Or food. I had a hard time passing up a single food stand. At the beginning of the night I started with a potato pancake, and finished the night with a belly full of GlĂĽhwein and a nutella pretzel.
Lucia gratefully suggested that we end the day with a concert featuring Mozart’s work. When planning my trip to Vienna, my sites were so focused on the Christmas Markets that I neglected to realize Vienna’s fame for Mozart and Beethoven until I spent nearly an entire day in the city. I was slowly piecing things together as I wondered about Mozart’s face being marketed on chocolates sold by the dozens in nearly every souvenir shop.
“We could go see where Mozart had played!” Lucia shared her enthusiasm for the concerts held several times a day in several spots throughout the city celebrating the works of Mozart, Strauss, and Beethoven. She was obliged to let me tag along with her, snagging our student-discounted tickets on the street for a concert at eight in the evening.
Confessing that classical music was not her forte, Megan suggested that Lucia and I attend the concert tonight and meet up with her afterward.
“Just drop me off at a bar so I can practice my german.” Megan proposed.
Lucia guided me to the concert hall sharing all of her enthusiasm for the many different pieces on the setlist for tonight. We arrived early with plenty of time to view the concert hall from within and take as many pictures as we pleased.
For two hours, I fixated on the pianist, her perfect posture and effortless timing. The set included one of my all-time favorites: the overture from Mozart’s ‘The Marriage of Figaro.’ Throughout each piece, I tried to isolate the sounds of each instrument and appreciate its delicate contribution to the whole movement. As I left the concert hall that night, thoughts of dedicating more time to my own piano playing ran through my head.
On our last day here, we booked a free walking tour, which proved to be a wonderful way to learn more about Vienna’s history. In the freezing Vienna morning, our animated tour guide effortlessly narrated the city’s events and politics. It was during this tour that I was introduced to the legend of Empress Elizabeth of Austria, nicknamed ‘Sisi.’ Naturally, the story of this beloved woman gripped me, as most legends of empresses’ do, and I made a mental note to one day return to Vienna and visit the ‘Sisi’ museum. Apparently, they have on display the very file responsible for taking her life in the hands of an assassin. Our tour guide also shared insights into Mozart’s famous life here in Vienna, mentioning his dozens of apartments.
After the tour, we marched our hungry selves to the nearest Wiener WĂĽrstl for lunch.
While the others went off on their mission to find souvenirs, I dismissed myself to walk through the city streets in whichever way I fancied. In my experience, there are at least two ways to experience a new city. One in the company of others, and one in solitude.
I found myself enjoying some reflective moments within one of the stunning churches that litter Europe. Before long, hunger struck again, prompting me to seek a WiFi source to plan my next move.
On my way back toward Volksgarten, I was captivated by a delightful display of chefs mixing what appeared to be a large pancake in a massive skillet. The warm aroma was particularly inviting to my chilled lungs after walking in the freezing weather all day. Avoiding the long queue that seemed to lead to a cafe, I stepped inside the adjacent shop without any expectations of making a purchase. I made my way toward the back of the cafe to admire the artistically crafted chocolate. As I walked, I halted before passing by a sign that said “cafe,” with an arrow pointing up a staircase. Glancing behind me at the long queue outside the window, being ushered through another door that was outside my immediate vision (which I assumed was the actual cafe entrance), I decided to explore what was at the top of this overlooked staircase.
Better to ask forgiveness than permission.
Hesitantly, I climbed the stairs, anticipating resistance the moment I was spotted, but none came. I reached the top of the staircase where three individuals waited by a “please wait to be seated” sign. Taking in my surroundings, I read the menus lying on a table a few feet away in the dining room: “Cafe Demel.”
Recalling the name from my morning tour, the guide emphasized the cafe’s fame and its delicious Kaiserschmarrn; Austrian chopped-up pancake. Those must be what I saw those chefs preparing downstairs. However, he warned that the queue was always impossibly long, and while it might make your friends jealous, it was not worth standing in line for half an hour.
Nevertheless, as the couple in front of me was led away to their seats, leaving me next in line, I hardly waited at all. I had somehow bypassed the impossibly large queue at the front of the cafe. So perhaps, in my case, it would be worth it.
And indeed, it was worth it. The hostess led me into the royally adorned cafe to a window seat where I ordered a serving of those pancakes they were chopping up in those skillets downstairs. The waitress seemed to have anticipated my order, taking the menu that I didn’t need to open.
Staring out at the festively decorated streets below, I savored my lunch while listening to a history podcast about “Sisi.” Learning about the royal family encouraged me to check the train time to Schönbrunn Palace. Upon arriving in Vienna, I had purchased a city transport pass for the weekend, allowing me to use trains or buses around the city for 48 hours with a 14 euro ticket. Schönbrunn was only a 30-minute transit from Cafe Demel. I messaged Lucia and Megan, inviting them to the Schönbrunn Christmas market, and began to walk to the U-bahn station, listening to the end of my podcast.
I skipped my way from the subway all the way to the palace, not needing the guidance of Google Maps as the lights illuminating from the distance were sufficient to guide me, like the star for the wise men. I leaped through the archway and did my best to take in the view: the snow, the lights, the people, the tree. It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas. I can neither confirm nor deny that I had a few tears of joy cradled in my eyes as I allowed myself to float with the current of people from one glowing stand to the next, clutching a delicious cup of GlĂĽhwein and humming Christmas tunes. Where was this my whole life?
Oh, how easy it was to envision life in Europe, waltzing through a Christmas market every year to find small treasures for my loved ones. They would ask, “Where did you get this?” and I would reply, “From a sweet elderly vendor at the Freyung Market in Vienna.” On the weekends, I would meet up with friends to ice skate and grab dinner from the various stands, just as these people are doing now. What a perfect, special, intimate way to observe the holiday season; full of music, art, warm drinks, and families strolling about with the most stunning backdrop.
Lucia and Meghan found me at the base of the Christmas tree. “I think this is my favorite market.” I told them.
As we continued to pass by the stands, I spotted one stuffed with beautiful notebooks. Ah yes, my weakness. I hadn’t expected to purchase anything this weekend outside of food. This was, in part, because my backpack was already stuffed so tightly that it takes me a meticulous 23 minutes to strategically place each item so that I can zip it closed. And the second was that I am a student. Not a traveling nurse. My fingers glazed over the binding of a burgundy journal. A worthy and elegant steward for my potential written words. “How much would this one be?” I asked.
I counted every last euro in my bag and happily handed over 15 euros for the journal. My Vienna journal. Fitting and practical marker for my inaugural Christmas Market experience. Even if I had to carry it in my hand from Vienna to Edinburgh.
The night was capped with a wonderful dinner at Cafe Central, as we enjoyed more traditional Austrian cuisine and a piano performance that bounced off the beautiful interior.
We hardly slept a full 5 hours that night before it was time to drag ourselves out of bed the following morning to catch our 6am flight. My sleep schedule did not seem to be offended as I felt rather awake navigating security and eventually boarding our plane.
After watching the entire first season of “The Empress” (A Netflix series about Franz Joseph and Empress Elizabeth of the Austrian-Hungarian empire, I highly recommend) on the flight back home (Edinburgh? Weird), I walked through the city as it was just beginning to wake up. Arriving at my flat right before 9 am, I had plenty of time to unpack, chug a cup of coffee, and head to class.
Travel Pathology 
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