Vienna, Vince, and Venice.

There are so many things buzzing around in my head, I don't know where to  begin. This last week has been glorious. I've found nothing but exquisite beauty everywhere I look; in the people I've met, in Vienna, and especially Venice. But I'm already getting ahead of myself.  

Vince and the entire Scharner family have been the most amazing hosts. They took me into their home for two full weeks with nothing but warmth and kindness. Every one of them has taken time out of their busy schedules to show me parts of Vienna. The city itself has stolen my heart, of course, and I, like teenaged, lovestruck tourist I am, will surely let it break over such a place. To stand in a place that has seen ages pass and dynasties rise and fall; a vast witness to sheer age and beauty, a seemingly divine backdrop to thousands tangled, human lives, is simply breathtaking. And the insane thing is every inch of Europe is like this.

Last week was filled with museums, monuments, palaces, and history. The night of my arrival just happened to be the night that all of the public museums were open until the wee hours of the morning, so Vince, Clara (A friend I met when their class came to Bozeman) and I went into town directly from the airport and toured a bit of the city and a museum first thing. Vince and his mother took me to see the Spanish Riding School on Sunday, which is a world-famous dressage show that features a very specific breed of hot-blooded horses who spend their entire lives learning to do impossible tricks and movements. We watched as these beautiful animals paraded and performed, trying to subtly take illegal pictures and craning our necks rather than tear our eyes away from the impeccable grace and talent of the horses. Later in the week I was taken by Vince's mother to Schonbrunn Palace, the imperial summer residence of the Hapsburgs. That was incredible, and almost humbling, in a way, to see not only the home of an extremely impressive dynasty but the intricate work of architects and variously influenced decor slammed together in one great building. For the remainder of the week I was left mostly to my own devices, with the exception of Sophie, Vince's sister, and her boyfriend Alex taking me into town one day to see some modern art and a lively market. I was actually fairly proud of myself for successfully navigating the public transportation system, as a small town girl whose second language is nothing even similar to german, and whose first is still too far away to be incredibly useful. I took myself to countless museums and sights as well, and took a ridiculous amount of pictures, shamelessly filling out my tourist profile.

And then the weekend brought Venice. Vince, Clara and I took an overnight bus, a nine-hour ride, to the city on Friday night. The bus was just like a Karst Stage and upon entering, I felt I could very well be on the way to a Track or Cross Country meet; everyone was bringing too much luggage on and no one was ever quite comfortable, so the sound of shifting bodies and rustling luggage was almost as non-stop as the growling drone of the bus' engine. We arrived at 5:30 in the morning, when the sun was barely even hinting an appearance by dusting the furthest corners of the horizon grey. Wandering the streets of Venice when there wasn't a soul around was, I later learned, an extremely unique and tantalizingly romantic experience. The ratio of actual inhabitants to the number of tourists that flood the city each day is almost laughable, and causes uncontrolled crowds with no where to go but the street for the duration of the day, so as the streets filled up and we wandered, waiting for things to open, I realized how lucky I had been to have, just for a moment, the city to myself. We then spent the day touring St. Mark's Basilica, the Doge's Palace, and later went by Vaporetto to Murano and watched the famous glass blowing. That evening we planned to meet up with my friends, Sumner and Pat, who are fellow Bozemanites and just happened to both be in the city and exactly the same time as us. It was completely surreal, to find myself with people I grew up with in an iconic European city, five thousand miles away from home. We went to dinner at a seafood place that was completely off the beaten track and took us several tries to find with faulty smartphone coverage. I ordered cuttlefish with ink sauce, and found it was, in fact, pitch black. Our waiter was the sassiest Italian man, who seemed to take it upon himself to educate this little group of obviously American tourists (Again, sorry Vince and Clara for getting grouped in with the Americans). We met up with them again on Sunday and went to one final museum, and then spent the rest of the day wandering and talking and falling more and more deeply in love with yet another city. Then it was back on the bus, a groggy ride home, and my weekend of bliss had concluded. It was simply perfect, there is no other way to describe it.

I don't know if I will be writing next from Switzerland or Austria, but I will update about the rest of my adventures this week at some point. For now, here is one happy kid signing off.