After breakfast this morning, Sarah bought some amber at a local jewellery shop. That’s been pretty much our only lasting purchase in Slovakia.
A quick ascent of the Michalská veža (Michael Tower) for rooftop views of the city and an equally quick, cold soft drink to use up the remainder of our Slovak currency (Koruny) followed. After that, we loaded the car and headed out of Bratislava across the Nový Most and headed for Vienna, just 70 km away.
In no time at all, we were at the Austrian border. Although this particular crossing had only one open lane, we were quickly across and on our way.
I was sad to say goodbye to Slovakia, for which I will always have a special fondness: stunning scenery with excellent hiking, breathtaking mountains, warm people, cheap prices and great food (in Bratislava, at least; more hit and miss elsewhere). And who could forget the zmrzlina?
And then, before we knew it, it was 14:00 and we were rolling into Vienna.
Computerised Audi-woman escorted us straight to the Sacher, where a pitiful doorman dressed in abysmally inappropriate garb for the merciless weather helped pile our bags onto a luggage trolley. Sarah and Eloïse went inside to check in, whilst I drove around the block to park the car underground.
Parking in the centre of Vienna is, as you might expect, not what you might call cheap. We really might have been better off leaving the car in Bratislava, catching the hydrofoil to Vienna, and getting a taxi from the quay to the hotel. In fact, it definitely would have been vastly cheaper than using petrol and paying to park the car. The only reason we didn’t do this is because of the perceived hassle of lugging our bags around in the searing heat and not being able to bring all of our items (there’s only so much you can carry, and we have a pram to consider, too).
I was quickly back at the Sacher, however, where I met up with Sarah. A porter was assigned to lead us to our room… and what a room!
This place is beyond luxurious. I thought the Kempinski in Budapest was nice (and it was), but this place is in a different league. We are — without a shadow of a doubt — the two scruffiest fuckers staying here (Eloïse’s quite presentable, in case you were wondering). In fact, we’re too shabby-looking to even get into our hotel’s own restaurant (no shorts, please); we peered through the cut-glass windows into a time gone by, where well-groomed gentlefolk were exchanging plesantries as an appropriately dressed pianist set the mood.
Our room is sumptuous, to say the least. We have a pillow menu, for crying out loud. Just dial 1, and a down pillow, one filled with horse hair, or even a wedge-shaped one will wing its way to the room.
When we came back from our first explorations of the Innere Stadt this afternoon, our beds had been turned down (why do hotels perform this most useless of services?), mats had been placed on the floor on each side of the bed (well, you wouldn’t want to touch the carpet with your bare feet, would you?), and a plate containing chocolate bon-bons and two individual Sacher-Torte cakes was on the table, together with a letter welcoming us to the room.
The real Sacher-Torte is delicious, too, I can now vouch, as is their rum-truffle-like punch cake dessert.
Anyway, that’s all garnishing. The real reason we are here is the city itself, Vienna. Tomorrow will be our first full day of exploration.