Got back from Vienna this evening. It was a pretty good time, and I know you're just dying to hear about it. Therefore, in an effort to make this forum more interactive, I am presenting this post in a question-and-answer format, wherein you, gentle reader, may place yourself in the role of the person asking the questions, and I, as usual, have all the answers.

Q: Vienna, huh?
A: Yup.
Q: Must have been fun.
A: Yup.
Q: So you got there on Saturday...let's see, since Vienna is such a young, vibrant European city with lots of young people, and you're about the coolest person I know, Saturday night must have found you at some Euro-club out on the dance floor with hot Austrian chicks grinding all over you, right?
A: Well...not exactly.
Q: Well then, you were probably leading hordes of young Austrian blondes from bar to bar to bar, right?
A: Um, no.
Q: So what DID you do Saturday night?
A: I went museum-hopping.
Q: Come again?
A: Museum-hopping.
Q: Please tell me that in some Austrian dialect of German, "museum" means "bar."
A: No, no. "Museum" is English for "museum."
Q: Wow, you ARE cool, aren't you?
A: Let me explain. I tend to have this really wierd incredibly good luck when I travel. One night every year, Austria has what they call "Langes Nacht der Museen," or "long night of museums." Every museum in the country throws its doors open from 6 p.m. until 1 a.m. So I was pleasantly surprised when I landed in Vienna to find out that Saturday night was, in fact, that night. How could I pass up that kind of opportunity? I paid 12 Euro for access to all the museums in Vienna. Also, the art museum had a nice little wine bar set up in the middle of its rotunda, so I finished up there. Live jazz and everything. Have some wine, go look at a Renoir. Have some more wine, go look at a Rafael. Listen to "Me and Bobby McGee" and go look at ancient Egyptian sarcophagi...that sort of thing. The whole night is a huge draw for people all over Austria. Ended up being a lot of fun.
Q: Oh, okay. That's pretty interesting, then. So how many museums did you visit?
A: Four or five.
Q: Four or five? In seven hours? That's all?
A: Well, I took a time-out to go to a concert.
Q: Well why didn't you say so? Of course. A concert. You are cool. So U2 or Coldplay were in town, and you managed to score some tickets?
A: Um, no. It was Mozart. And Strauss.
Q: So, like a symphony?
A: Yeah.
Q: Are you like 70 years old or something?
A: Apparently. I just thought it would be kind of neat to listen to the works of famous Viennese composers (i.e., Mozart and Strauss) in the actual hall in which their works were originally performed.
Q: Oh. That is pretty cool, actually.
A: Thanks.
Q: With all that musical historty there, did you manage to make it to the opera?
A: I really wanted to. "Die Fledermaus" was playing on Saturday, but it conflicted with the other excitement that I just got done telling you about. And the show on Sunday was something I didn't have any particular interest in seeing.
Q: Well, since you didn't see the opera, did you at least go into the underground shopping arcade near the opera house and use the famous "Opera-Toilette," the oprea-themed public restroom in which they play classical music, label the stalls as "Loge Boxes," and have the urinal section made up to resemble the opera house's bar?
A: Yes. That was 60 cents well spent.
Q: So, since you did all the museum stuff on Saturday, did you pretty much just spend Sunday going from cafe to cafe and soaking up the Viennese ambiance?
A: Pretty much, yeah.
Q: And then hit a couple bars Sunday night?
A: That's about it.
Q: Any good ones?
A: Actually, there's an area with a bunch of little bars that are supposed to be a lot of fun, but it was pretty dead on Sunday. So I wandered back toward the hotel and there was an Australian pub (that's "Australian" as in "kangaroos and koalas", not "Austrian" as in "of or having to do with the country I was visiting at the moment") right around the corner.
Q: And you went in?
A: Well, I felt this strange sense of being drawn toward the pub. There was a soft, golden glow eminating from the doorway where they had the ostrich burgers and fried grasshoppers advertised. So I figured I'd go inside for a beer...and there I found the source of the light. The holy grail. My travelling luck had kicked in again. There was a TV on over the bar...with the Patriots game on. I knew this was the pub for me. So, not having seen a football game all year, much less a New England game, and still smarting from the whipping the Red Sox took in the ALDS, I grabbed a bar stool and made myself comfortable. Turns out the Austrians/Germans actually have a fair number of people who follow American football.
Q: Sounds fun. So, did your high school German come in handy?
A: Yes, from time to time. Being a major European capitol, most of the people spoke at least some English. But it's still fun being able to get a meal and buy stuff without having to use English. Although I kept mixing my poor knowledge of German with my even poorer knowledge of Italian. So I had one of the harshest languages in the world mixing with one of the most melodic languages in the world, which I guess about averages out to English.
Q: How was the food?
A: Good question. The Austrians, like the Germans (I presume, since I've never actually been to Germany), seem to subsist on sausages, potatoes, and various iterations of cabbage. Which, while filling and very tasty (on occasion) gets very old very quickly. Although I do like the sausage stands on the street corners.
Q: But isn't Vienna famous as the birthplace of the Sacher Tort?
A: Yes. I had never heard of it before I went. And because I'm not big into dessert (chocolate is chocolate in my book), I didn't have one while I was there. So I still don't really know what it is.
Q: Any other interesting food there?
A: Well, I got into the hotel around 1 or 2, and was ready for lunch. So I went across the street to this trendy little restaraunt, where the menu was all in German. (Actually, very few of the places had English translations, which I kind of liked. I'm a big kid, and if I don't know what something is, I can ask. Unfortunately, this works better in Italy where things on the menu often have very literal translations that are easy to figure out, like "little pasta shells with cheese in a red sauce with cheese and mushrooms;" in Austria, the translations weren't quite so useful--it's more along the lines of "large sausage in the style of your brother's nose" and that sort of thing.) Anyway, I asked the waiter what one of the appetizers was--all I could decipher was some kind of fish with apples. He looked at me with that smug, superior European waiter half-smile and informed me that it was, "herring. Raw herring." Knowing that I, the wussy American tourist would cringe at the thought of raw herring. So since I knew that he knew that, I had no choice. Sucking it up for my country, I mustered all the enthusiasm I could manage and loudly proclaimed, "that sounds great! I'll have that." Besides, I've been to Norway. Nothing could be as bad as the dried, cured cod they eat there. So in a little while, he brings out the plate. And it's not like a couple nice little pieces of sushi or a nice grilled ahi steak or something. No, it's two pretty good-sized fillets of, well, raw fish. And it was quite evident that it was raw. So smug Euro-waiter guy sets it down and is obviously waiting for a classic American, "no, I was expecting sardines in mustard or something; I'm not going to eat this." I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. So as he's watching me, I cut off a giant piece and shoveled it into my mouth. And it was absolutely delicious. It must have been smoked or salted or something, but it was great. And it came with green apples, diced up and tossed in some sort of mayonnaise or cream sauce, which went perfectly with the fish. Much better than sausages and potatoes.
Q: While you were there, did you buy one of those green felt Austrian hunter's hats?
A: Yes.
Q: I bet you look pretty funny wearing it.
A: Shut the hell up. Nobody asked you.
Q: So after visiting the cultural capital of Europe, you must feel pretty...cultured.
A: You betcher sweet ass I do.