There’s something charming in a good non-Disney sense of a word about being in Vienna. Measured, balanced living. Beautiful streets with lots of green (or as the case was for me this time — covered in gold, red and brown colors of fall), buildings that each looks like it has just stepped down from the pages of fairy tales or is a materialization of Mozart’s tunes. The smells of the city — bratwurst here, Wiener mellange there. Sound of horse hoofs on cobble stones and bells of Straßbahn. There’s no rush on the streets, but none of the laid-back Miditerrainian laziness you’d see in the south of Europe. Just enough of ordnung to keep things nitly organized, but not too much for any diversity to be seen a danger to stability of boredom.

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