Vienna

Hawidere, Vienna!

Hawidere — the informal Viennese way of saying hello. A little rough around the edges, a little warm at the same time. It felt like the right way to begin.

The first time I went to Vienna was in 2000. The world had just survived Y2K. The new millennium had officially begun, and it really felt like “the future” was here. At the time, the internet helped me get a feel for that unknown world and allowed me to step into this unfamiliar city with more ease. The world felt larger, but also more reachable.

I traveled there with my brother to visit family, carrying a CD player everywhere I went. Headphones on. Always. Every walk through the city had a soundtrack.

Vienna was the first place where I truly wandered on my own. The first place I saw snow falling steadily enough to change the way a city sounds. The first time I felt temperatures below freezing — that sharp, shocking cold that makes you instantly aware you’re alive.

It was also the first time I became genuinely curious about the German language. I brought along my small Langenscheidt dictionary — which I still have to this day — convinced it would carry me through conversations. I managed to ask where the bathroom was. I could order something simple. But when people responded quickly and naturally, I was left with a confused face, an awkward smile, and a nod, only to then ask: Sprechen Sie Englisch? This experience was humbling. And oddly motivating.

At that point, the future didn’t feel abstract. It felt walkable.

A city that moves easily

From the beginning, Vienna felt manageable. Walkable. Intuitive. Elegant without being overwhelming. A city with a fascinating history and remarkably high standards for quality of life — the kind of place where trams, or "bims” as Viennese affectionately call them, glide by on time and you somehow never feel rushed. A place where historical events unfolded around what now feel like ordinary corners.

I remember being introduced to Café Aida and its Apfelstrudel — the first of many. There were Knödel, Frittatensuppe, Schnitzel, and thick slices of bread. Food that felt comforting and precise at the same time, especially in winter.

And then there were the cafés. Viennese coffee culture isn’t just about caffeine; it’s about permission — permission to sit, to think, to not be hurried. With a Melange in hand, I once tried to describe Vienna on postcards, squeezing my handwriting into every available corner. I wanted to capture the scale of it all. I’m not sure I succeeded. But I like to think that once the people I wrote to experienced the city themselves, it explained itself better than I ever could.

Step outside and you’re back in an open square — maybe even Stephansplatz — with St. Stephen’s Cathedral rising sharply into the sky, impossible to ignore.

Fair warning: I've been to Vienna several times and somehow never managed to take a decent photo. What follows is my best attempt. You'll manage.

Coming back in different seasons

Vienna didn’t remain a single winter memory. I returned in summer and swam in the Danube, floating near the Donauinsel. I walked along the Danube Canal, where bars spill into the streets and the city feels younger, louder, warmer. I went up the Donauturm and looked out over the skyline, realizing how compact and orderly everything really is.

Later, I spent a full month there and ended up “slow travelling”. That longer stay changed the rhythm. I discovered Café Jelinek and Café Sperl — places that feel untouched by time, slightly worn in the best possible way. Afternoons became slower. Museums less urgent. The city felt less like somewhere I was visiting and more like somewhere I was temporarily living.

I’ve wandered through the MuseumsQuartier, visited Mozarthaus and even conducted the Vienna Philharmonic at Haus der Musik — or at least the interactive version of it. I’ve stood inside the grand rooms of Belvedere and Schönbrunn. I’ve crossed Heldenplatz, aware of the weight it carries. I’ve ridden the Wiener Riesenrad at the Prater and eaten Stelze afterward. I’ve probably forgotten a few places along the way — time has a way of blurring the edges. But none of it felt like checking boxes. It just felt like being there. Each visit feels familiar but never identical.

Why it stayed with me

Vienna wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t overwhelm me. It didn’t try to impress me. It simply allowed me to move through it. Looking back, that might have been the real impact. It was the first city where I felt capable on my own. Not fluent. Not fully confident. Just capable.

The overall feeling was that the world is navigable. That you can return to a place that once felt intimidating and find it familiar. I’ve tried to describe Vienna in conversation many times. I never quite get it right. Maybe that’s part of its charm.

And it’s always a pleasure to come back.

Thanks for joining me on this adventure. If you want to explore the places I mentioned — and a few I'm still hoping to visit — here's my Vienna map. And if you'd like to see more short clips from this trip, feel free to check out my Instagram 📸🎥 @wanderlust_aku, where I shared pictures and videos that don't quite make it into the blog.