So from where I dropped you off yesterday it’s an uphill walk to the Bratislava Castle:

And if it looks like new construction to you, it’s because it was rebuilt in the 1950s after a fire even though the original structure was occupied back in the Stone Ages. It’s not the largest castle I’ve taken you to, but the view of the Danube is fabulous:

From my vantage point, it’s the best place to chase the sun as it goes down over Bratislava…

As soon as the sky goes dark, my hunger returns. I walk around for about 40 minutes and look at a few, well, many menus in vain. I don’t understand a word I’m reading but I suspect they all have to do with meat. Am I desperate enough to go to McDo, which seems to be on every corner around here? Well, almost…until this sign stops me dead in my tracks:

What! Phở gà in Slovakia?!? Get out of town! But why the heck not, come to think of it…I just know I have to order this so I can show it to my parents. I can pick around the chicken. The second photo is of vegetarian spring rolls:

Now yesterday I told you I’d tell you a story, and it has to do with the proprietor of this Vietnamese restaurant. When I first sit down, she’s standing in the doorway chatting with 3 Vietnamese men at another table on the patio near me. I am probably more excited by the fact that I can understand what I’m hearing for a change than the food itself–and I say this because I’d been approached by good Samaritans all day long who tried to help me locate places on my map, though to no avail due to the language barrier. In fact, I’m so happy I don’t even mind that they are talking about me. They are trying to determine my nationality and come to the conclusion that I’m from Singapore. Wrong-o! So you can imagine her surprise when I order my food in Vietnamese. This always breaks the ice, and we end up talking for a good long time. I want to know her story and whether Slovak is an impossible language (!).

She came to Bratislava via Hanoi four years ago to follow her husband, a Vietnamese national who’s owned/worked at this restaurant in Slovakia for ten years. Which means they’d been apart for at least six out of the 14 years they’ve been married. She packed up the kids and made the journey for good and they have not looked back. She tells me it’s hard work, learning a new language and adapting to a foreign culture while running a business, but her kids are doing OK, and let’s face it, we Vietnamese are hardy survivors. Her story and struggle are no different from those of all the refugees who came to America in 1975 to find a better future…but Slovakia? We laugh about this, and about all the strange places on Earth where you might find a wandering Vietnamese (and by that I mean moi). She tells me to visit this town near Prague where there is a fairly large Vietnamese community–wish I had known that when I was in Prague last summer and craving a bowl of phở. By the time I finish my new favorite drink, the kofola, which tastes like a Coke blended with cherry, apple, and currant and that has less sugar but more caffeine,

we have bonded over our common age and uncommon life experiences. And our conclusion is the same: home is where you find it.

There are probably no two capitals geographically closer to each other than Vienna, Austria and Bratislava, Slovakia, so it makes total sense to cross the border. With only 60 kilometers between them, you can pop into Bratislava in about 40 minutes by train or bus. Once in this tiny city, it is relatively easy to navigate the historic center by foot, tram or bus.

My first impression is, I’m definitely not in Vienna anymore. My second impression is, I wish I had downloaded a Slovak-English dictionary app to my iPhone before coming here because Hungarian and German are also two other languages that I do not speak and that would have been somewhat helpful here. But it’s 5pm already so I might as well make the most of whatever daylight I have left and worry about how to order food later.

Some of you have asked me what it’s like to roll into foreign cities without a tour guide, or much of any plan. And sometimes it’s like this (cue cricket sounds)…

but the trick is to keep the eyes, ears, and heart open and keep walking…

and eventually something cool will materialize:

But I know what you are really asking. Is it daunting to go where you do not speak the local language and see not a single soul that looks anything like you? Well, some 20 years ago when I started traveling abroad, I would say I was intimidated. But now, even in the most remote places, I just have to wait a few minutes before a bus of Asian tourists shows up to blend into if I suddenly feel out of place. And as much as I try to not plan a tight itinerary anywhere anymore, I’ve usually done enough homework (Internet research has leveled the travel playing field) that there are no real huge surprises. Having said that, however, after a few weeks of being away from home, I do experience tiny pangs of…oh, I don’t know, craving for the familiar? A little piece of home, perhaps?

So now you know why I took that picture of an Ikea ad on the side of the bus. I was desperate to just find anything that related to me. But let’s face it, McDo can’t do the trick when I’m feeling like this. Even if a CHANEL boutique suddenly fell out of the sky right here I’d still feel…no wait, I’d be banging on the door to let me in. Bad example. What I mean is that right here, on a dead Sunday early evening, 3.5 weeks into my trip, I’m really in need of a reminder of home.

Remember what I said about open eyes, ears and heart? Look what I suddenly spy across the street:

A picture menu! Sometimes the travel gods throw you a bone. I mentally note where this place is, just in case. But I’ve to make my way to the Nový Most bridge, a famous landmark that crosses the Danube River. There’s a flying saucer shaped restaurant here aptly called UFO that provides a wonderful view of the city:

Before I sign off here, let me show you a glimpse of the historic and modern Bratislava living in perfect juxtaposition:

Tomorrow we’ll see what hovers over the Danube. And I’ll tell you a story about what home really means.

You know how sometimes you wake up and go, eh, where did this potbelly come from? And what’s up with the junk in my trunk? May I submit the evidence…or should I say the crumb trail leading to these self-revelations when the jeans are a bit snug…

But this girl can’t help it. Vienna is full of sweet temptations. Every café that I enter, including the fan favorite Café Central which was once a hangout for the Viennese intellectual/literary crowd in the late 1800s, begs me to order something evil:

I just can’t say no. In fact, on my final day in Vienna, as I take in the last sights of the city…

even till the last second before I get on the train back to Bratislava, I make a pit stop just meters from my platform…

to say a proper goodbye to Anker, my favorite pastry chain in Vienna:

I can’t bear to show you what that last pastry was. Just thinking about it makes me go up one jean size. But anyway, thanks for visiting Vienna with me. On to another capital tomorrow…

And no, I was not drunk in the above photo. Just on a sugar high.

So I hop a few trains…

and a tram…

in search of dead musicians at the Zentralfriedhof, or Central Cemetery, in Austria’s Simmering district. In section 32A, I find all my rockstars in their slumber…

including a memorial for Mozart, who was actually buried elsewhere in a mass grave:

My favorite gravesite, though, is this one with a canopy bed–that’s what I call a real resting place!

One bus stop from the Zentralfriedhof is a very cool area called Gasometer City.

Remember a few blog entries ago I showed you this picture I snapped from the train as I entered Vienna?

It turns out that these 4 gasometers, or large gas storage tanks used from 1899 to 1984, have been renovated into residential and commercial space:

Cool concept but it is a virtual ghost town inside on this gloomy, rainy afternoon. Sure wish I could buy one of these gasometers for myself just to store all my shoes and bags !

as well as a tourist and local favorite joint, Maschu Maschu, touted to have the best falafel in town. And I have to agree since I eat here twice on this trip:

Fueled by chickpeas and hummus, I make my way to Karlskirche, one of the most beautiful churches I’ve ever seen anywhere…

For some reason it makes me think of the Taj Mahal. But anyway, on this day I also get in some major sightseeing around the Hofburg area, which once served as the imperial residence. Today the wings are used as museums, tourist attractions (including the famous Spanish Riding School), libraries, and conference halls:

And no, your eyes do not deceive you–that is a humongous ad on the building with George Clooney. Hollywood is never too far from anywhere…

In this very photogenic city of Vienna, all you really have to do is point and shoot because no matter where you go, there is wonderful architecture to enjoy, including these gorgeous museums:

In fact, you just have to look up…

and up…

at the famous, colorful tiled roof of St. Stephen’s Cathedral:

The interior isn’t too shabby either:

No wonder it’s full of tourists:

Tomorrow I’ll show you another beautiful place and perhaps a little more food.

Here is the Facebook page for the IB♥L II where you can get more info and can hopefully contribute. Devil or no devil in my ear, I’ll be sending my package this week. Deadline is Oct 1, 2010. My only wish is that I could one day take you all along to the Middle East at my blog!

As I mentioned earlier, the best companion in Vienna is the multi-day transportation pass. Because with it, you can pop up in a zillion places via subway, train, bus, or tram relatively efficiently (and I love how varied each stop is)…

and save lots of transit time and energy so that you could do the real walking upon reaching your destination. Today, our destination is Schönbrunn (which means beautiful spring if I’m not mistaken) Palace, a former summer residence for the Habsburgs. It is an understatement to say that the palace grounds are enormous.

The next set of photos marks the order in which I tour the grounds, which is in no particular order because it is impossible to follow any guide map when there are so many lovely gardens, fountains, mazes (and even a zoo!) and buildings to see:

Did I just lose you in all those photos? Anyway, one of the best stops is here, on top of this hill, at the Gloriette…

which now houses a café and provides one of the best panoramic views to the city below:

Here’s another shot of the Gloriette from the opposite end of the grounds:

Remember when I said this place is enormous? It’s actually colossal. You can tell how big everything is just from the perspective of this photo taken at one of its fabulous fountains. I want to say Vegas the whole time I’m here, but wow, there’s no casino in sight and this was not built in a year by someone named Steve Wynn!

Speaking of fountains, one of the most beloved tourist spots is right here, behind the fountain where you can get a fantastic framed shot with water running down from the fall:

Yes, it takes a while to jockey for position with so many tourists angling for their own shots, but keep waiting for your moment because this is your reward:

Anyway, it’s a good long walk to cover most of the grounds, and I have to confess I really, really wish I had been able to do it on horseback. The sloping landscape and endless stretches of shaded trees make me yearn for a leisurely ride…

But the only horses I see today are those chained to the plethora of carriages all around the palace…

Here they are again at the front gate as I make my exit…sure am glad I’m not still in line waiting to get in. It’s a mile long under a bright sunny sky. I think this is the very day I finally get my tan.

To be honest the whole sweet tooth is a relatively late development for me. We weren’t allowed to eat a lot of candy and sweet stuff when my sisters and I were kids, so it wasn’t until high school, when we had to sell chocolate bars as a fundraiser for our various clubs, did I begin to understand the evil power of sugar. Whenever I got tired of selling the Snickers or M&Ms to my classmates, I’d indulge in one or two for myself, telling myself all along that it was for a good cause, and happily go off to my next class on a sugar high. White chocolate covered raisins then became a loyal companion for the long hours of prepping for the bar exam some years later. Speed ahead another decade or so and suddenly I’ve got a full-blown addiction to dark chocolate. The darker, the better. I don’t eat milk chocolate (at all) or desserts (much), but put a decadent dark choco cake in front of me and, well…it’s not pretty.

Besides all the wonderful coffees you can get in Vienna, one of the most fun things to taste here is the famous Sacher Torte, which was created for Demel (the store I wrote about yesterday) by the Sacher family way back in the 1800s. The picture of all the chocolate cakes lined up in Demel’s kitchen from yesterday’s blog tells you how wildly popular it still is today.

Later it was offered at the Sacher Hotel; yes, a legal battle of sorts ensued over who had rights to the “original” sachertorte, but for now, it is readily offered all around Vienna. BTW, the Sacher Hotel is this lovely establishment not too far from the Demel location:

I took that picture on a breezy afternoon while watching people stroll by the hotel sidewalks only to pause and find a seat to enjoy the famous cake. I was full from lunch but even from the rooftop where I stood, I wanted that slice of heaven. Such is the evil power of sugar that I was referencing earlier.

The sachertorte consists of two layers of dense, spongy cake that’s actually not too sweet. There’s a thin spread of apricot jam between the layers and the cake is covered in a dark chocolate icing on the top and sides. So much for the cake not being too sweet. It is served with whipped cream. Various restaurants, cafes, and bakeries will offer a slight spin on this theme…

and I’m happy to report I like all of the variations. If it is possible to eat a slice at every meal I probably would. That’d be my ode to the sachertorte. Well, let’s say if my metabolism were still like in my 20s then I probably could. Fine, you got me, metabolism schmetabolism. I ate more than I should have, but who knows when or where I might run into another slice back in the US?

Did you notice from my pictures that when you order a coffee in Vienna, it will come with a small glass of water? Tap water in Vienna is quite good and it makes perfect sense to follow a hot espresso with some cool water on a warm summer day.

Is it wrong to want to live in this kitchen? Do you see all those chocolate cakes on the counter in the last photo? More about that tomorrow.

By the way, here’s a cake rendition of me falling into a pastry coma, courtesy of Demel (like my shoes?)…

Please don’t wake me up.