Swallowed Softballs -- Vienna, Austria

The last few days with Felix included more dumplings.

Yes. I think I can safely say I've had an authentic, well-rounded dumpling experience during my stay in Vienna. 

Apricot dumplings. Apricots stuffed with marzipan, steamed in a quark dough for twenty minutes and then rolled in breadcrumbs, sugar and cinnamon.

They ended up being the size of softballs.

I ate a softball and a half.

And although the taste cannot be compared to softballs, the way they stolidly sat in my stomach certainly could.

Not that I know how softballs sit in my stomach.

We could have biked down to Popfest (one of Vienna's many free music festivals), but swallowed softballs have the general effect of making one feel disinclined to move. At all.

So we took the Ubahn to Karlsplatz. Camera in my backpack and two bottles of wine in Felix's.

We listened to music, drank wine and people watched for two hours.

I love watching people in Vienna. Half seem to be my artsy hipster brethren (although I suspect their clothes and haircuts cost a few euros more than mine) and the other half are a mix and match of tourists, business people and frolicking children.

All drinking beer (except for the exceptionally young children), eating bratwurst (apologies for the stereotype) and having an absolutely fabulous time.

Felix and I sipped our wine and I awkwardly swayed to indie Austrian music (without the faintest clue as to what I was swaying to). A bottle of wine to make the dumplings go down and two hours of furious digesting later, we wove in and out of the drinking, drunken crowd, through the metro station and to the rabbit wurst stand.

Which Felix says is the best wurst in Vienna.

I haven't had much wurst in Vienna.

(any, to be absolutely frank)

But it's very easy to understand how green rabbit is the best wurst in all of Vienna.

Sliced, served on a paper plate with a toothpick, a gigantic pool of mustard and a slice of bread (which I promptly passed to Felix), and accompanied by a glass of white wine, this was definitely a dinner I could incorporate into my life on a regular basis.

A lot of Viennese spend nights at free festivals and eat wursts as an incidental. A perk. A greasy, fatty sausage savior to soak up all the booze.

I think I would pass through the festival just for the wurst. The festival would be the perk and the booze would be used to justify the purchase of green rabbit wurst.

We boarded the metro for Felix's unpronounceable stop just before midnight.

I'm such an abysmal party-goer. All I want to do is listen to music for a couple of hours (max), eat wurst and then crawl into bed. I'm no fun at all. The only place I could consistently stay out late was Ireland, and that's because it practically wasn't allowed to leave early. It just wasn't done. 

Also, I'm kind of in love with old Irish pubs.  

We tumbled into our respective beds immediately.

I slept like a pineapple.

Felix made me pancakes the next morning. Austrian pancakes = Kaiserschmarrn.

Which are actually cakes cooked inside of pans and make my fluffy American pancakes look like pansies. Sad substitutes consumed by those who can't quite handle the real deal.

And you must possess the dexterity and steady hand of a brain surgeon to flip the beast.

Once flipped, you slice it up in the pan and sprinkle it with granulated sugar. This caramelizes and leaves the outside ever so slightly crispy crunchy and the inside ever so moist and lemony sweet.

The pancake is then dusted with powered sugar and served with a heaping pile of plum jam.

You're usually eaten for dessert, but I approve of you for breakfast.

We spent the afternoon listening to podcasts and napping in the park.

I missed my hitching buddy.

Felix asked if I was feeling hungry.

I wasn't feeling hungry in the least, but I told him I was a bit peckish because it's impossible for me to tell Felix that I am not hungry at all.

This is what Felix prepares for guests who are a "bit peckish".

I unpacked and repacked my bag, throwing out a few bits and bobs here and there, making my bag one or two grams lighter (it all counts).

My blablacar ride left Westbahnhoff at 20:30, so I asked Felix if I could make myself a mocha before the journey. I can sleep positively everywhere except in upright positions on planes, trains and automobiles, so I figured it would be better to be 100% awake than half asleep for the four hour journey to Ljubljana.

Felix made me a cappuccino.

"What would you do if I asked for a tea?" I joked.

We hugged goodbye and I set off for the metro station, feeling the weight of my backpack for the first time in eight days.

This is the epitome of a love hate relationship. For something that makes life by the seat of my pants possible, it sure weighs me down. With clothes and electronics and sadness when it comes to leaving people like Felix.