Viennese waltz

Here at St Stephensplatz, I saw a meeting of architectures. I saw a man place his prayer mat on the ground, right in the centre, and conduct his prayer amidst walking suits with cellphones, and gaggles of tourists with cameras. I refrained from photographing him - Allah would not approve.

My three-day soujourn in Vienna was a lonely but artistic. I spent these days not speaking much, but admiring my surroundings:
- the Beethoven Frieze by Klimt.
- the wide wide boulevards which were designed for parades, later proving useful for platoons of tanks
- Viennese coffee, swirling
- a violin and cello performance in the home of Mozart, who follows one around Europe.
- the avant-garde house and museum of Friedrich Hunterwasser, where New Zealand’s ‘green’ flag flies proudly and made me a little homesick.
- the house and small museum of Sigmund Freud, complete with famous couch, library, and collection of Eqyptian artifacts.

Fittingly, I made my own Freudian slip while asking directions to the ‘Kunsthaus’, the huge art gallery. (note to self: say it carefully) Here, I saw paintings by Rubens, with many chubby, rollicking cupids and large semi-naked swooning women with ample breasts being fondled by lascivious fauns, almost engulfing the viewer in an abundance of Bacchanalian boldness.