Squink just told everyone in the elevator to dance... The only one
that looked a mixture of "that's cute but what do I do" was a young
male in his twenties.
Sent from my iPhone
So this is what the downtown area of Vienna looks like... This is near where we met "TG-TE" for coffee. Frankly, it all sorta looks alike in a way, so I have no idea how far or how close this is from where we met "TG-TE".
Somewhere nearby is this plague memorial: (one of three I was to see on this trip)
I have always been a fan of Art Nouveau and this is an incredible example of it incorporated into architecture. This photo does not do this building justice:
This here is the Viennese state park, long and lovely with all sorts of things in them. I can say that it was crowded with folks and had loads of benches... "TG-TE" said that it is often filled to capacity... what a nice concept a park full of people.
I loved the market street, it is a place I want to go back to and spend hours at...
Aside from the lovely produce, where I could find all sorts of fruits that one can't find in AZ farmers markets, there were teas and spices and goods from around the world, and restaurants and cafe's that looked lovely and like I could spend hours at pretending to write my young adult novel... really, have this is a must return to for the next visit.
The father of one of my mothers good friends in South America escaped, with his brother's, in the hull of a boat and landed on the Galapagos Islands... the rest of the family was lost, I never heard if any news of what happened to them was found, the family was Jehovah's Witness.
The best place to sit was in the front, it is more responsive part of the tram (akin to the back of the school buses like when we were in grade school).
Remember how I said my feet hurt, I really wanted to take one of these. They used to be free, until they noticed that they were all gone and had somehow reappeared in other countries... imagine that! Now, a credit card is required.
Apparently when this building was built it upset
Another view here. And another, perhaps the more interesting view here.
And while I do order a coffee roast based on this restaurant, we did not go there.
We did not go here either, though I have promised to try a "fresh" Sacher torte... but apparently you have to be Austrian to get one, maybe IFF I am with an Austrian I can get one.
The name of this place compels me to go there too
And Nettie, as I was searching for places in Vienna with merely the search word "Vienna" I came across this: We did not see this place though (NSFW - maybe?).
Actually, that is probably a lie... it is better said that I was born an aficionado practico's daughter.
Loosely, that means my dad has had an odd hobby for an American, and has had it since before I was born.
I have heard that he did set out to try to become one, but that road is tough and especially tough for a tall American. I have had the opportunity to talk to some of his Latin American bullfighting friends about him... they all tell me he is a good bullfighter, that they would have never thought that he would be as good as he is. I, frankly, know very little about what makes a good bullfighter. I can tell you that I know when someone is a bad bullfighter, as much as I know when a bull is a good bull... but if you pressed me to tell you what that is, I would have a hard time.
As long as I can remember, bullfighting has been a part of my life, I was not offered a choice... bullfighting just was. We spent weekends when we lived in Spain with my father at some tientas (more on what that is later) or visiting Spanish bull ranches (the ones that raise fighting bulls). We did the same in Ecuador. I am not sure if we did in Colombia. These pictures of me below, they are just a part of my childhood pictures (akin to the American idea of naked baby pictures on a white sheepskin/bearskin rug).
Generally, I consider this life I was given a blessing, and I include this experience in it. Only the times when people who loathe bullfighting have reared their ugly heads at me... have I had twinges of wishing I were not here... but those are fleeting thoughts and spit wipes off easily from ones shoes (yes, I was spit on because my father chooses to do this). I don't take kindly to joking in this matter if you are not looking at me in the eyes, I tend to assume you plan to spit on me.
Anyway...
I come from a family of adventurers on both sides. On my fathers side I have cowboys, now there is probably a better word, but my grandfather was a cowboy though I don't know what kind of cowboy work he did. There are a lot of hunters on that side of the family as well, but the kind that eat what they hunt. What can I tell you about this side of my family? Not much, as they are a quite silent. I gather pieces from different places and a story unfold in my mind.
A bit about my father:
My father does not talk much about the time he left his college in the USA to go to Mexico and see what happened. Here is what I have gathered; I am not sure how much of it is true as it has mostly come from places other than my father. Papi, correct me if you read this and if you want to I suppose...
When my dad was 17 or so he jumped into a ring in a border town when the audience was asked if anyone wanted to enter and face the bulls. He got the gusanillo or the veneno (I understand that these are terms used when talking about who has caught the bullfighting bug) at this point I imagine.
My dad dropped out of college his junior year and moved to Mexico where he worked for a Mexican rodeo for an actor (Luis Aguilar and by default Flor Silvestre I believe). He essentially took care of the horses, though I have heard that he played something akin to a rodeo clown as well... again, not confirmed. He learned how to bullfight there as they would let him make some passes with the capes as he took care of the animals.
He bought himself a suit of lights (with gold braid, which only professional bullfighters are supposed to wear) and wore it in some town bullfight festivals. After about of year, he was found in a barn in some town, he was in a coma from what was reported to be pneumonia.
Actually, he does not talk about what happened after either... here is what else I have gathered.
He went back to the US, finished college, went to graduate school, married my mother and ended up first in Colombia, then Spain, and then Ecuador... and a whole bunch of other places but I was there for those three. So in these places he watched as much bullfighting as he could and became an aficionado practico. So, this aficionado practico means that he practices his hobby... there are aficionados who just watch, and then there are the aficionados practicos that actually get in and do the job too. Aficionados practicos most often will bullfight in tientas and occasional festivals but are called such on the bills and unlike a bullfighter, they pay for the opportunity rather than being paid for it.
My father is still doing this today. There is an area in the United States, where bloodless bullfights take place. What a great opportunity for those whom have been bitten by the venom of aficionadodom. My father lives near the area and has gotten to know some of the families that raise the cattle/bulls. So, he arranged for some fellow aficionados to buy some bulls and have a tienta of sorts. The tienta is usually about testing animals for breeding purposes as bullfighting bulls have a long genetic tradition. Though this was not a tienta as they were not being tested (again, I believe); they were the age that this might be done if not a little older.
He finally talked me into joining him at one, and here are the images of that day. These are images that are personal, what I wanted captured and not necessarily what the person in the ring wants to see....
This here is my father, the one in the cowboy hat. Squink calls him Grandpa cowboy. The men to his right are some of the most charming men I have ever met.
