„Central is not a coffeehouse like any other – it’s a philosophy.“
(Alfred Polgar)
If you want to rub shoulders with the likes of Sigmund Freud and Trotsky, you should visit Café Central in Vienna. Though, you’ll only see Mr Freud & his friends if you can see ghosts! Today this historical beautiful coffeehouse is overrun with the tourists but they don’t diminish its old-style charm.
The café culture is still strong in Vienna so during the week and off-season (if there’s such a time of the year when there are less tourists in Vienna) this café is still frequented by the locals. But if you’re visiting during Christmas season be prepared to wait in the cold to get in this very popular café/patisserie.
Housed in a grand old palace (Palais Ferstel) Cafe Central has been opened since 1876. It offers breakfast, lunch, dinner, desserts and…
Vorgestern las ich auf Martin Häuslers Blog Rumgekritzelt den Beitrag “Endlich wieder Silberbesteck” (siehe hier), auf den er vom Silberbesteck seiner Familie berichtete. Ich kann nur empfehlen, den Beitrag zu lesen!
Silberbesteck im Kasten (c) Foto von Susanne Haun
Wir haben uns köstlich amüsiert, vor allem, weil wir seit dem Sommer überlegen, was wir mit dem “na ja” Silberbesteck meiner Tante Rohrbeck machen, dass ich schon im Alter von 12 Jahren erbte und seit her tapfer von Wohnung zu Wohnung schleppe, ohne es je benutzt zu haben. Es hat eine dunkle Patina angesetzt, wahrscheinlich ist es auch das letzte mal von meiner Tante geputzt worden …. Ich mag im täglichen Gebrauch mein wmf “Lübeck” Besteck, das meine Eltern zur Hochzeit bekamen und das sie mir vor knapp 10 Jahren schon zu Mamas Lebzeiten übergaben. Ich wusste auch einmal, wie die Dame heist (oder hieß), die dieses Besteck designt…
John D. Lyons is the professor behind the Cambridge Companion to French Literature and I bet he spent long hours deciding how to whittle that tome down to 132 pages for this French Literature, a Very Short Introduction for the Oxford University Press VSI series. Since I picked this up from my stash of VSIs at this time because I was interested in Maupassant (my review of Like Death is coming shortly), I went straight to the index, but woe! Zola and Balzac are there, but not Maupassant. Bother! I was hoping to have erudite things to share about his place in French Literature…
That brief disappointment aside, this VSI is most illuminating. The Introduction made me realise that I have a limited view of what French Lit is. I thought of it as novels and poetry coming from the geographical borders of France, with a proud history of 19th century authors like Zola, Balzac…
And where the wild Danube throws up its yellow sand,
and where vast Thracian Mount Rhodope touches the sky.
There they keep the herds penned in, and no grass
is visible on the plains, or leaves on the trees:
but the land far and wide lies formless under mounds of snow
and heaps of ice rising seven metres high.
It’s always winter, always North winds breathing cold.
There the Sun never disperses the pale mists,
neither when he finds high heaven, carried by his team,
nor when he drenches his chariot headlong in Ocean’s red waters.
Ice-floes form suddenly on the running rivers,
and the water soon carries metalled wheels on its back,
once greeting boats and now broad wagons:
Everywhere bronze cracks, clothes freeze as they’re worn,
and they cut out the liquid wine with axes,
whole lakes turn to solid ice, and bristling icicles
harden on their straggling beards.
OR IN THE ORIGINAL LATIN
At non qua Scythiae gentes Maeotiaque unda,
turbidus et torquens flauentis Hister harenas, 350
quaque redit medium Rhodope porrecta sub axem.
illic clausa tenent stabulis armenta, neque ullae
aut herbae campo apparent aut arbore frondes;
sed iacet aggeribus niueis informis et alto
terra gelu late septemque adsurgit in ulnas. 355
semper hiems, semper spirantes frigora Cauri;
tum Sol pallentis haud umquam discutit umbras,
nec cum inuectus equis altum petit aethera, nec cum
praecipitem Oceani rubro lauit aequore currum.
concrescunt subitae currenti in flumine crustae, 360
undaque iam tergo ferratos sustinet orbis,
puppibus illa prius, patulis nunc hospita plaustris;
aeraque dissiliunt uulgo, uestesque rigescunt
indutae, caeduntque securibus umida uina,
et totae solidam in glaciem uertere lacunae, 365
stiriaque impexis induruit horrida barbis.