Get out of town!

I have this weird pet peeve.  It developed back in elementary school when my and my best friend's (Roxanne) families used to go camping together over Spring Break.  One year a guy named John came on the trip with Roxy's family.  At night I remember him walking around the campsite in circles, looking up at the forested mountains and cliffs surrounding us, and gazing at the sky as if he were trying to put together some cosmic puzzle.  I asked him what the heck he was doing.  "I have to know where north is.  I can always tell by looking at the sky.  If I don't know which direction I'm facing, I feel lost."  He also enjoyed climbing up to the top of the ridge at night to look at the entire camp ground.  A little dangerous, but again, a way to get a better overall idea of where you are.  John was quite obviously a boy scout and, as I thought at the time, a bit of a control freak.  But now I understand John's desire to orient himself with his surroundings.  I feel as though I understand so much more about a place when I know where I am in the grand scheme of things.  I mean, sure, a boy scout needs to know which direction to walk in if he gets separated from the troop because, silly him, when nature called he got distracted and took a little to much time making fun designs in the dirt.  But a girl in the middle of Vienna with a detailed map and oodles of street signs doesn't need to know instinctively where her house is.  It's laid out perfectly in drab, pastel, typical map colors.  And yet, I need to know.  And, in true John fashion, I had been craving the opportunity to get up somewhere high and look out over my new home.

I finally got this opportunity on Friday when Laura and I got invited to go on a trip by our friends Elizabeth and Ayla to the outskirts of town.  Vienna is in the middle of a valley.  There are two high peaks on the hills surrounding the city called Kahlenberg and Leopoldsberg, popular spots to go sit and gawk at the city below contemplating "Dang, I had no idea there were so many copper green domey things!" or  "Man, the attractions at the Prater look like they're made out of toothpicks."  The best part is that you get to ride all the way up into the mountains and watch the city turn from a scummy Ubahn bus stop, to a quaint cobblestone, rustic-village motif, to rolling vineyards, and then finally you're on a small winding road in the forested hillside with glimpses of a tinker toy Vienna peeking through the trees.  And once you get to the top...you can finally see where you fit into the grand scheme of things.  

I found out that I was suspended on the north west side of town, with the Danube running right through it.  I could see the Ubahn bridges suspended over the river and the hillside barrier on the other side of the city.  I love that you can actually see where the city begins and ends.  When you're driving up high on the Spaghetti-bowl intersections of 410 and I-10 in San Antonio (which is one of the best panoramic views in town), it just looks like someone had a bag full of urban sprawl and dumped it sporadically all over central Texas.  It has no limits and just keeps on expanding, like a virus.  But here, the city knows it's limits.  It knows not to trespass outside the natural partition that encloses it, keeping Vienna secure and the natural beauty of the hills sacred.  

We fell in love with Vienna at the first peak, Kahlenburg, while snarfing organic cafe treats (specifically chocolate parfaits, coconut ice cream served in the coconut husk, strawberry cake, and potent cherry/apple juice).  As we sat and ate our food, we drank in the view.  Spectacular.  There are actually foot paths that start at the beginnings of the forested area and follow alongside the bus route up the hill to the two peaks.  We weren't quite sure where to get on the bus that would take us from Kahlenburg to Leopoldsberg, so we decided to try a footpath.  Our newly acquired sense of direction really didn't have much say in which path we took to get to the second peak.  The map was in German and kind of confusing, so we just chose one at random.  It ended up that we were actually going the right way, but we didn't have enough time to walk all the way to point B and make it in time for the last bus back down the hill.  Instead, we meandered a bit down the path and came across a lovely little field with picnic tables and a swing set.  Complete with tire swing.  And right next to a bus stop.  There was a little outdoor cafe right next to it.  I'm not quite sure how we came off to it's patrons because we were being very loud and frolicking idiotically through the field.  We really must have seemed obnoxious to all present, but it didn't matter.   Liz took awkward pictures of the magnetic Lobster that she keeps in her purse and of Laura while I went out into the field to make a crown of wildflowers...I know we're special cases, you don't have to say anything.  Then we all had a turn being the subjects of "the senior pictures that never happened" with the crown atop each of our heads as we warmly embraced the swing set poles.  Nice.  I left the crown hanging on the swing set as a token of my appreciation to it for letting us pose on it and hold it inappropriately.  Overall, it was an incredibly peaceful and adventurous day.  I can't wait to get back up there again.  And I'm glad Vienna and I have taken the next step in our relationship together.  I get Vienna now (from a birds eye perspective) and Vienna gets me.  And we're kind of a big deal.