BELVEDERE PALACE
From the Star Inn Hotel, we crossed over to Haufbanholf to catch the subway train to Belvedere Palace. Hopping off at one of the stations (I knew not which), we walked the remaining distance, crossing several streets, turning to the left and right at various junctions. It was not an interesting walk for all the buildings looked the same. I remembered passing by the low window of a dingy basement. It was dark inside. I imagined someone, a damsel in distress strapped to a wooden chair away from the window, her mouth gagged, her eyes petrified, her life in certain peril. Walking past the window and not seeing anything quite as dramatic, my eyes fell upon the signage at the outer wall. A doctor's name. What is a doctor doing inside a dingy basement, my mind wondered. Could he be a dodgy surgeon performing illegal abortion for advanced pregnancies? Yes, quite likely. My sense of imagination satiated, I refocused my attention on the family of five disappearing in the distance.
Arriving at 5-15 pm, we only had time for a short tour of Belvedere Palace. (They closed at 6 pm.) After a short discussion, the family of five decided to skip the tour and proceeded instead to the Farmer's Market about half an hour's walk away. Now half an hour's walk sounded like a great deal of walking so we parted ways.
We bought the tickets for the shortest tour and entered Belvedere Palace where a female guard greeted us warmly. No cameras were allowed for any works of art but we could take pictures of the palace itself.
From the Star Inn Hotel, we crossed over to Haufbanholf to catch the subway train to Belvedere Palace. Hopping off at one of the stations (I knew not which), we walked the remaining distance, crossing several streets, turning to the left and right at various junctions. It was not an interesting walk for all the buildings looked the same. I remembered passing by the low window of a dingy basement. It was dark inside. I imagined someone, a damsel in distress strapped to a wooden chair away from the window, her mouth gagged, her eyes petrified, her life in certain peril. Walking past the window and not seeing anything quite as dramatic, my eyes fell upon the signage at the outer wall. A doctor's name. What is a doctor doing inside a dingy basement, my mind wondered. Could he be a dodgy surgeon performing illegal abortion for advanced pregnancies? Yes, quite likely. My sense of imagination satiated, I refocused my attention on the family of five disappearing in the distance.
Arriving at 5-15 pm, we only had time for a short tour of Belvedere Palace. (They closed at 6 pm.) After a short discussion, the family of five decided to skip the tour and proceeded instead to the Farmer's Market about half an hour's walk away. Now half an hour's walk sounded like a great deal of walking so we parted ways.
We bought the tickets for the shortest tour and entered Belvedere Palace where a female guard greeted us warmly. No cameras were allowed for any works of art but we could take pictures of the palace itself.
The palace is currently a museum exhibiting art works. (Impressionist art, realism, oil paintings, sculptures etc) Although cameras were not allowed, I saw a middle aged Caucasian secretly recording the images on his video camera. It was the way he held the video cam, the way he pointed its lens at the artwork, the way he cleverly concealed the red light indicating of course that the gadget is actively recording, which gave him away. What could have been his ulterior motive? My imagination was on fertile ground but time constraint got in the way.
 |  |
|
|
 |
|
 |
The art pieces were interesting but I preferred the ones exhibited at the Schonbrunn Palace. After the tour, we entered the souvenir store which was crowded. Before we could pick up anything of interest, we were ushered out of the store by guards anxious to call it a day.
The palace ground was big. As it was time to leave, we took some hasty shots and made our way towards the massive gates. It was a hot evening. My phone told me that the temperature was 31 deg Celsius. It was 6 pm but it certainly looked like 4.
Some people are born without an in-built GPS system. Give them a map in a strange place and they'll get themselves in a pretty pickle. (Why yes, I'm talking about me.) Fortunately, my Significant Other had a good sense of direction. As we stood outside the massive gates of Belvedere Palace, me having a vision of us getting hopelessly lost, he pointed to the left and walked briskly in that direction. With some trepidation, I followed. I could have sworn the streets looked unfamiliar. I did not remember the buildings we walked past and was just about to say so when I spotted the dingy basement where the damsel in distress sat strapped to a wooden chair while Dr Whats-His-Name performed illegal abortions for advanced pregnancies, not that they were real or related in any form or substance.
I knew we were on the right track. With this realization came a flood of relief. At the Haufbanholf train complex, we stopped for some Thai fried rice which did not taste like it should, not that I'm an authority in such matters.
All in all, it ended well. We found our way back to the hotel where we wound down for the day. It was close to midnight when Mr Nice-Guy knocked on our door. His toes were blistered from the long walk to the Farmer's Market which was perpetually ten-minute's walk away. They never reached their destination.
No comments:
Post a Comment