I’m not going to describe breakfast in detail, except to say there was every type of sausage, eggs, cold meats, cheese, cereals, fruit, yogurt and a selection of breads to rival any Germanic artisanal bakery.
Unfortunately the Third Man tour only runs on a Friday and the Third Man museum only opens on a Saturday and the Third Man app doesn’t work according to all the reviews and the cinema which shows the film three times a week didn’t advertise the times and …
I decided to do some proper research back home and return again in winter when it can all be seen as the director intended: in black and white.
So down I went to the subway for the central cemetery. It was only as the doors opened that I noticed everyone wearing a face mask but I decided to take a chance. There were only 12 stops and a tram ride ahead. However it was an uncomfortable journey. The driver noticed fairly quickly and announced the requirement to wear a face mask. I pulled my buff over my face and faced the other way without success. He described the exact specification for the required mask and I began to wonder what the fine might be. Eventually we arrived at the end of the line and I gratefully bought a new mask before boarding the tram.
Google helped me find everything I needed to locate both of Harry Lyme’s graves and I stood forlornly as Anna walked the long walk past me but enough of The Third Man. Vienna is the home of classical music and I stood between the graves of Beethoven, J Strauss, Brahms and Mozart. Mozart? Surely he was buried in an unmarked pauper’s grave? Not a bit of it! Mozart had a decent funeral in nearby St Marx’s cemetery and according to the custom of the day he shared a grave with a few others. The wooden cross decayed and nobody thought to write down the exact spot. But now he has a decent memorial right next to Beethoven.
Beethoven. When I was young the librarian in my local library took my hand and led me into the gramophone room, rummaged around and pulled out his 7th symphony. “Listen to this, Tim and tell me what you feel”. It’s the complete symphony. I sometimes wish she hadn’t been 60 and I hadn’t been 10. Anyway what a moment this morning at the grave of Beethoven. Maybe she was 20.
I paid my respects to the fallen Soviet soldiers who died in the Battle of Vienna, 1945 and then, like Sigmund Freud, I stopped at the Cafe Landtmann for coffee and cake. I still had time for a tour of St Stephen’s Cathedral including the catacombs (no photos allowed) where the thousands of bones of victims of the Black Plague were piled high. It was a day of Death and Cake in Vienna.