I’ve been dreading this day.

Why? Because I knew we had to get from Munich to Milan to Venice in one day. I don’t recommend it, but here’s how we did it.

After a devotional under the down comforter in my painted bed, I went down to breakfast. It was pretty expensive, but we couldn’t resist the adorable room, and I woke up feeling unwell.

A nice cup of tea and another purloined lunch later, I felt ready to face the epic train ride. We rode the tram to the station and got on our train with no issues. The ride through the mountains into Italy was stunning. I listened to music and sketched while looking at the beautiful views. I also had to work on picking out my Semester at Sea trips. I was pretty overwhelmed. Who gets to pick out trips for a journey around the world while riding a train through Italy on a European trek? This girl. And I in no way deserve it. Amazing.

The train car in which we rode was mainly full of young Italian guys. We got pretty excited because they played a popular song we recognized, and we all sort of sang along together in ENGLISH. It’s amazing how beautiful that language can sound after a long time traveling.

And with that, we were in ITALY! The one country on our trip full of places Claire and I have been before (as well as places we have never seen). In that sense, it felt more like a homecoming. Also, with a last name like mine, you always feel a little bit like you’re coming home when you’re in Italy.

We switched trains in Verona, and I listened to the “Love Theme” and “Now We are Free” as we sped toward Milan.

We knew we had a little under three hours to complete our requirements, but I was prepared with a crude map and a set itinerary. Ready. Set. GO.

We checked our bags at the station, which was actually quite the process. We had to give the guy our passports and everything. I conducted the entire operation in Italian and was quite proud. I speak Italian like a caveman speaks English, but at least I know a smidge (thanks, Grandpa).

We took the subway to the Duomo, crossing another city’s public transport off our list. A nice man warned us about pickpockets. We walked through the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, which is basically a shopping alley built during the unification of Italy (Remember, Italy wasn’t always a unified boot. That’s partially why each big city has such a distinctive flavor…and why the different football teams are so competitive).

After passing a statue of Leonardo, we walked to the required Brera Art Gallery. Yes, more art.

This museum was cool, though, because it is above an art school and used to be a monastery. There is a statue of Napoleon in the courtyard holding a little fairy called “Napoleon and Tinkerbell.” For some reason, I found this utterly hilarious. This set the mood for my less than serious approach to this museum.

I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Hayez’s “Il Bacchio” was there. There was also a lot of religious art. A lot. All of the signs were in Italian, but it didn’t really matter because by now we have the main tropes and themes down. St. Catherine with her wheel, St. Lucia with her eyes, St. Sebastian being skewered with arrows, St. Jerome with his Lion and St. Francis—well, somehow you can always just tell it’s him.

Believe it or not, I’m not tired of art yet, though. There is something about looking at religious art on a Sunday. A lot of it is kind of silly because it shows the people of the Bible in modern (for the Renaissance) clothes and settings. The neat thing is the idea behind it: Someone tried to visualize, and more importantly, humanize the events recorded in the Bible. It’s easy to think of the stories we read in abstract “impressionistic” terms. These painters put flesh and blood through brush and paint onto the characters that makes the Bible come alive.

After the gallery, we wanted to take in some high fashion. It was perfect since the shops were closed and crowds nonexistent. Wow.

I saw some of my favorites—Prada and Tiffany’s—and so many more. Louis Vuitton, Jimmy Choo, Valentino, Dolce Gabanna…it was  a crash course in fashion. Looking at shirts that cost more than our 24 day trip was amazingly fun. As you can imagine, two 21-year-old girls had the window shopping fun of a lifetime. We found our way back to the Duomo to view our final requirement.  It was something else!!

The church had a bagillion spires on top and huge doors. One of the doors had a carving on it of a man’s calf that stuck out, and people kept grabbing for pictures. I didn’t really  get it (I mean, he had nice calves and everything…), but I held on for a picture anyway.

We rode the subway back to the massive train station that was built during the Italian foray with fascism. I got a drink in time for our 9:05pm train to Venice. The ride was no big deal, but we landed at Venice’s Mestre station past midnight. Strictly speaking, Mestre isn’t Venice at all. The station you want for Venice is St. Lucia. Mestre is sort of the suburbs. No canals. Just buildings with the windows broken out. At least that’s the part we saw.

We just needed to find a way to get to St. Lucia. A guidebook informed us there was regular, easy transport, but reality was a station empty except for a few bewildered  tourists, some taxi drivers who looked like mafia lords and a few men looking sheepish about being out. Evidently the “regular transport” stops before midnight.

We thankfully found two local girls heading home and asked them how to get to St. Lucia. The girls told us a bus number, which we waited for for about 20 minutes. The driver let us on for free (I’m sure we looked pathetic). From the bus stop we had to find the train station, which is over a large bridge and out of sight initially.

The train station, however, was point “A” on our Google map directions. I’m not sure what we would have done if I hadn’t thought of asking Claire to print those out the night before.

Something to know about Venice:

It is known for being “the city you get lost in.” Everything is old and crumbling, and the streets are a veritable labyrinth. The narrow alley ways twist and turn and end in the canal with no warning, lights or railing. With the trepidation of Theseus entering the maze, we stood on the edge of the Grand Canal, preparing to plunge into the labyrinth to look for our minotaur—the Pantalon Hotel.

We had each been to Venice before and knew how easy it was to get lost. In the daylight. With friendly Italian men in cafes to help you.

A quick prayer and we were in the utterly abandoned 1 a.m. Venetian streets.

Empty streets..

It was shocking how deserted it was. No noise but my luggage bumping over street stones and Claire quietly reading the next step from the directions. We took our time and guess what?!

We found the tiny, tiny place after a little less than a mile of twisting and turning! I felt so thankful.

Shower. Bed.  2 a.m. I know I’ll see a lot of this city in the next two days, but I think I’ll always love the Venice I saw tonight: empty, old, quiet and stars overhead.

Today was a little slice of heaven.

Right now I’m journaling in our cozy hotel bar and eating peanuts the sweet young desk clerk left for me when I got up because he is shy. I wish we had more time here!

This morning Claire and I went our separate ways for the first time on the trip. She went to Dachau Concentration Camp, and I went to Neuschwanstein Castle in Fussen, 2 hours to the south of Munich in the mountains. I know. Way to make me look like a flake.

I set my alarm for 5:45am so I could make the 6:52 train. Our hotel is a 20 minute walk away, so I had to book it. When I got there, there were no trains to Fussen posted, and 10 minutes till departure. I asked an employee which train I needed, and he stuck me on a train to Buchloe. He swore it was going to Fussen, though I didn’t see the city listed as a stop. You’ll never guess who I saw on the train! A backpacker who I remembered from our Germany to Dresden train ride when we didn’t  have reservations. He didn’t have a reservation, either, and kept moving back in the train, too. I remember him because he looked like he was going to say something to those nasty backpackers who were trying to get my attention and acting raunchy before they left me alone.

The train stopped at Buchloe and anyone who didn’t look German got off. This made me nervous. I sat for a few minutes before getting off, too. It’s a good thing I did! Turns out all kids going to Fussen need to transfer at the Buchloe station, because the train goes on to Zurich. Much as I loved Switzerland, I appreciated not having to pay another 20 euro fine for traveling through a country not listed on my pass.

I arrived in Fussen at 9:15 as planned. Nothing was open because it was a Saturday morning—not even the visitor’s center. I bought a pastry and walked around the cute Bavarian town. Breakfast in Bavaria! I needed to kill some time before going to the bus stop for the  10:40 bus to the castle ticket center up the mountain. I was surprised by how chilly it was. Evidently Claire’s daily weather report had been for Munich, not the Bavarian mountains.

The blue backpacker (that’s what I named him) was at the bus stop. We struck up a conversation, and I learned he was from Australia (!) and had a great accent. He was on a 6-week holiday that began in Oslo 4 weeks ago. He wanted to know about the American financial crisis and my thoughts on the Norway shootings. Good thing I’m a journalism major who still feels the need to follow the news abroad! If you think understanding America’s financial woes is confusing though, you should try watching the news in German.

The bus ride up to the castle passed some of that beautiful water that is only seen in alpine regions. The 10-minute ride took us through forests full of fog. At the ticket center I bought a “Royal Ticket” for both castles for 15 eruo. Blue backpacker just got one for Neuschwanstein that didn’t include the lesser Hohenshchwangau, so he must not be Prince Charming.

By now, it was raining, and fog was covering Neuschwanstein so I had yet to see the castle. Nothing could cover my smile, though, as I awaited my 11:40 entrance to the castle of my dreams. Hohenschwangau is the older castle built on a hill below Neuschwanstein. Ludwig II’s father Maximillian II of Bavaria, mother Marie of Prussia, and brother Otto lived here too.

It was absolutely dream-like. The walls are covered with charming murals of knights and ladies by artists like Moritz von Schwind. Wagner’s operas contain many of the same legends that are depicted in the murals, and Wagner stayed here for a week and played on the piano. He was a great friend—and one of the only friends—of Ludwig II.

You’ve probably already heard about Ludwig, but I’ll give you a crash course in case. He was nuts (literally). Ludwig was a ruler obsessed with Germanic lore and legends. After seeing the place he grew up, I can see why. It’s a modernish place decorated in the midst of the Romantic Period, so it’s even more romantic than the castles and times being romanticized ever could have been.

Ludwig also decorated heavily with swans. That’s because he also viewed himself as a knight of Schwangau. He became ruler at 18 and was engaged to none other than Sisi (ahhh!! There she is again!) of Austria’s sister, Sophie. He broke it off for no reason. They are so obsessed with all things Sissy that it wouldn’t surprise me if this action alone was enough to make them think he was insane. Who wouldn’t want to be related to Sisi, right?

He was declared insane and unfit to rule. He never got to finish Neuschwanstein because he was found drowned in a lake. His psychiatrist and the man who ruled him insane was found drowned too. “Mysterious” is the only apt way to describe the scene that has intrigued historians for years. Was he really insane? Was it suicide? Murder? Double suicide? Double murder? These are some of the questions they ask.

My question? Were there swans in the lake?

Ludwig’s bust, looking a tad wild-eyed even as a child, decorates the castle. His main eccentricity in this castle was that he added painted stars onto the ceiling with little bulbs in their centers. He could have it lit from above so they looked like real stars, and could even have servants illuminate the proper phases of the moon. I’ve been thinking about painting stars on my ceiling, but I think I’ll pass on the bulbs. Glow in the dark paint, anyone?

After this smaller castle, I bought a poncho. On the way to the hiking trail to Neuschwanstein, I saw it through the fog for the first time.

It’s stunning.

It poured all the way up the mountain. They say it’s a 40 minute walk, but I made it in 20. Horse carriages go up as do buses, but I was determined to approach on foot. I know Ludwig is supposed to be the one with odd fetishes, but I had this idea about walking through the foggy forest and coming up on a castle—it just sounds so Disney.

Fitting, perhaps, because this castle is famously a model for Disney’s iconic castle.

When the wet princess arrived at the castle, she was not disappointed. The castle looks about like I expected up close, but the setting is stunning.

The rain stopped and as I watched, the fog gradually lifted revealing a waterfall and dramatic rock faces.

While I was waiting for my 12:50 tour (they only let you in in guided groups), a creepy man kept trying to talk to me. It was difficult to understand the combination Turkish/German accent (he said he had lived in both places), but I did distinctly understand some personal questions including the dreaded “Are you alone?”

After a little fib, I “went to the bathroom.” He walked by the bathroom (busted, I was just standing there) but just winked. Way to spoil the pretty ambiance, creeper.

There are few places that do not disappoint when you have dreamed of visiting them for years. This one didn’t. Because the castle was built relatively recently, everything is beautiful. The Wagner-inspired legends inspired me to know more Wagner.

The whole thing is obviously rather fake—Ludwig even installed a fake grotto next to his office and near his Tristan and Isolde bedroom—but it’s lack of reality is what makes the experience surreal. I won’t spoil any more of it for you. Part of the fun of going is not knowing what will be inside the very familiar exterior.

I got some postcards before walking to Mary’s Bridge, a streamlined steel invention of Ludwig’s straddling the falls and overlooking his castle.

Call me crazy, but walking out onto a 3-foot wide bridge with wood planks designed by “Ludwig the mad king of Bavaria” over a massive ravine gave me pause. Not so much because of the crazy height, but because of the 60 tourists already crammed on it. And, OK, the heights a little bit.

It was invigorating, though with the mountain air rushing through the canyon and blowing my hair like I belonged in one of those legends from the castle walls. Except for the fact I was in a poncho. Those just aren’t romantic. I took it off  and felt a little better about myself.

On the way back down the mountain I stopped below the castle for the 5 euro special: Cappucino, cake and keep the mug. I probably would have spent all 5 on the cappuccino.

I sat holding my hot cup and looking at the castle I’ve been dreaming of visiting for a decade. Then I found the bus back to town, but it said it wouldn’t leave for another 40 minutes. I tried walking down the “Romantic Trail” so I could just hike back to Fussen, but the sign said “Fussen 1.5 hours” and I had a dinner date with Claire to make back in Munich, so I went shopping instead.

A drunk American in one of the shops was asking out the sales clerk, which reminded me: I was in Germany on a Saturday night.

I made the bus, then made the 4:00 train. Be proud. I’m so much more confident with public transportation than ever before. The train was loaded with sloppy drunk men in lederhosen screaming, yelling, making animal noises and singing the same song for an hour. The German women were just rolling their eyes and looking prim.

I transferred at Buchloe and got on a train with a drunk older gentleman who was so under the influence that he face-planted on the moving train several times before making it to the WC, which seemed unnecessary because it was already all over him. A sturdy-looking lady was helping him and yelling at him in German.

Everything went according to plan until I walked the wrong way out of the station and was momentarily lost because I had given Claire the map this morning. I found the hotel, though, and we set out for a celebratory dinner. We tried the Augustiner Taver, which was nuts. Beers the size of pitchers, meat, long tables that looked like split logs and frantic waitresses abounded. It’s a good thing that restaurant was full, because if we had stayed, I probably would have yelled “WENCH” at some point and made the waitress mad.

I had goulash at a much more tame place and tried some of Claire’s spatzel. We walked back by the Augustiner and saw the police there. Back at our hotel we went to the cozy wood paneled bar to write postcards and journal. Here we are!

Earlier, I sat in my window and went out onto the fire escape. Mary’s Bridge the castle inspired me to tackle this heights thing- though monkeying around 2 stories up on a rickety old fire escape is more dumb than brave, I suppose. Still, it reminded me of “West Side Story” and “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” and today has been a very romantic day. A romantic day alone!

I proved to myself that I can travel solo and still love it. I got heckled a lot more and was happy to see Claire in the evening, but nothing can go truly wrong in a fairy tale, right? Of course right.

I love Munich. Which is funny, because I don’t particularly like beer or sausages. I do wish we were staying here longer than 48 hours, though.

Our train ride was uneventful, as it was the same train that we took yesterday to Salzburg except we stayed on for one more stop. Unfortunately, the pastry I chose this morning was good, but it was full of spinach. Rough in the morning.

I even managed to send and purchase postcards before our fancy fast train departed. Claire is better today, but I feel shoddy. Some sort of traveler’s cold seems to be giving us the shaft.

If i look a little scared, it's because I am...

Upon arrival in Munich it was SUNNY! Glorious. We bought a partner ticket and tried our first tram ride of the trip. It took us a minute to figure out where line 19 was because it had moved, but we were actually able to “read” the German sign based on the German words we’ve picked up. The tram worked wonderfully, and we were soon at our hotel. Our hotel. Ahhhhhhh….

Our hotel is from heaven. The Hotel Hahn is family owned and completely adorable. The man at the desk asked us it would be too much trouble if we had two rooms next door to each other instead of one shared room for the same price.

Trouble? Two perfectly adorable rooms instead of one? Hardly. My little heaven on earth, room No. 20, has a matching little painted twin bed, clothes boudoir, table and chair. I also have a spacious shower and sink. All to myself. After two cities of hostels, this seemed too good to be true.

Squealing (and we aren’t typically squealers) about our perfect accommodations, we forced ourselves to leave so we could do the required museums before closing. By now it was late afternoon. I got brave and bought a bratwurst sandwich. It had cheese in it too. I, for some reason, felt like a trip to Germany wasn’t complete without some sort of meat. The guy asked me if I wanted some chili ketsup, and I said sure. I don’t usually eat much meat, but this was delicious.

This painting was crazy.

We walked a few miles to the Alte Pinakothek, where the works of the masters are located. The labels were awful and in German. I did especially enjoy the Rubens rooms. We made a deal with the lady at the ticket office who let us trade in our single museum ticket for a combo so we could visit the other two required museums; we had more time than we expected.

I wish we would have started with the Neue Pinakothek, because it exhibited pieces from the time periods I enjoy, and I was surrounded by beautiful paintings. This was Nellie Bly’s era in technicolor (she’s my research project, remember?). OK, so maybe paintings aren’t like photographs from history, but they do something just as good as showing you reality: They give you a glimpse into the minds and imaginations of people at that time. Nellie Bly certainly captured the minds and imaginations of her era, so it was interesting to see what else was inspiring or entertaining people during her lifetime.

How can I still gush about art this far into our crazy art blitz? I have no idea. It defies logic.

After buying postcards of two of my favorite paintings, we headed to the Pinakothek der Moderne. This massive place had a really cool downstairs dedicated to design, and some Picasso, Klee, Dali and Magritte upstairs. Given these options, I’ll take Magritte.

Having finished with our requirements for the day, I really wanted to see the Olympic Park. I love the Olympics (Check out my Life List) and wanted to see the famous architecture of Munich’s 1972 shot at hosting the world.

The strange thing was that we couldn’t get onto the  subway– excuse me, Ubahn line–because it was so packed with people. I’ve been on the London tube Victoria stop at rush hour. I’ve been in Paris’ metro at lunch. Berlin’s when it’s pouring. This was different. Someone had to push on the last person’s back to get the door to close. We finally fought our way on like troopers, and I got much closer to some people than I ever wanted to be.

To our surprise, everyone got off at our stop. We were baffled since Olympic Park is just a public recreation area now, and it was well past dinner time. We followed the masses through the Olympic grounds while Ubahn after packed Ubahn dumped people into the park. We ended up at  the stadium, where it turns out there was a concert going on. “Take That,” a band that is evidently especially popular with the British was performing. We had never heard of them (Take that, Take That) and kept moving. There was another carny set up.

We also walked up a lovely path through a park that was so vibrant and green that it looked like New Zealand (no hobbits, just Nordic walkers). After seeing the swimming dome, we headed for Marienplatz, the heart ofMunich. There is a famous glockenspiel in the Neue Rauthaus, and an iconic church with onion domes.

We walked to Haughbahnhaus, the famous beer hall. It was full of music, beer, meat and Asian tourists.

My little key. Hooray! I love my room.

Next, Claire bought gelato and I got a Magnum Mcflurry. I know. I ate at a McDonalds abroad. I’ve never done this and have frequently mocked people who do. The chocolaty blast just looked so intense I couldn’t resist. Do I sound like a commercial? Because I’ll do promotions if I get a supply of Magnum Mcflurries for free.

Back at the hotel, I enjoyed my room and also took the opportunity to do some laundry in the sink. In case my perfect room didn’t already look homey, it now had sweaters and undies hanging all about.  Looks like home to me. At least for tonight.

Another day, another pastry.

This morning it was an Italianer (I think) which was eaten on the train to Salzburg. The houses we passed on the 3-hour train ride reminded me of the ones I saw in Switzerland years ago. There were also pretty streams. I was super excited about wandering around with no required sites!

We rode the train with a nun, which made me even more excited. Why? Because Salzburg is where “The Sound of Music” took place; that’s why! We really didn’t do anything but wander today, so let me give you a summary in no particular order.

We wandered about and came on a market where there was every kind of cheese (one was completely green) and meat (not going there). We passed two houses claiming ties to Mozart. There were also these little chocolate bonbons with Mozart’s face on them everywhere.We split one,and it had creme and pistachio inside.

Yup. There was a nun named Martha. Awesome.

In St. Sebastian’s church some men were singing as we walked through the cemetery. Some Mozart family members are buried here, as well as Paracelcus.

Austrian graves are curious. They have these metal crosses that are extremely ornate standing next to them, or they are sort of caged off like the ones the Von Trapps hide behind in “The Sound of Music.” The movie’s director created that scene with inspiration from the cemetery at St. Peter’s, another church I visited today. The church has tombs and catacombs cut into the dramatic rock surrounding this side of the town.

The giant white Hohensalzburg Fortress overlooks the whole town. There is a tram that must be at least a 70 degree angle going up. Instead of doing that, I opted to hike up to the Nonnberg Priory. The real Maria was a novice here, and this is where she married the Captain (I saw the much-grander place where the epic wedding scene from the movie was filmed from a distance up on a mountain. It’s in the village of Mondsee).

The alpine air was crisp and the view of the mountains was stunning from this still-active abbey. The chapel was quiet and thoughtful—the kind of place even a young traveler takes the time to sit for a while and pray. There were tombs of various sisters outside. There’s something about having been there that makes you feel incredibly peaceful. Then you just walk back down the hill. Being there made me totally OK with the idea of being a nun. If I never come back from this trip, know that I’ve become a nun at Nonnberg Priory. Never mind that I’m not Catholic.

We walked around the gardens in the “Do-Re-Mi” song quite a bit. The Mirabel Gardens are fanciful with statues of unicorns and Pegasus. There is also the pretty arbor Maria and the kids frolic down during the song. We couldn’t find the steps, though. I need to watch the movie and figure out how we missed them. The gardens  had these stunning roses, and roses are my favorite, so I probably said “Oh look how pretty!”to poor Claire at least 10 times.

This scene may sound too trite in the city of both “The Sound of Music” and Mozart– but there were really good street musicians all over and random groups of kids  running and dancing. There was even this cute group of scouts playing in a band for a while.

We peeked into the Cathedral, shopped and saw the Horse Pond.

Some funny things about Salzburg:

1. There are people in traditional garb everywhere. At first I thought they were dressed up for tourists, but we saw countless boutiques selling super-expensive Austrian clothes.
2. The town has cashed in on the movie that made it even more famous (as if all the great music from here wasn’t enough). We considered taking one tour that would take us to the Hellbrunn Palace where the gazebo from the song “16 Going on 17″  was filmed and Leopoldskron Palace where the boating scene was shot. We found another, more fanatical, option  that I just had to photograph. The tour poster featured a singing tour guide/movie enthusiast (shown below).

One...special? Tour poster.

We also sat outside at the “Kinder Festival.” Yes, it was for kids– we got to watch a musical reading of the story of Babur the Bear. It was special, because the beautiful music was broadcast into a square below with the fortress on one side and the Cathedral on the other. A man with the bushiest eyebrows I’ve ever seen read the story, while the orchestra played. Just as it was ending, grey skies, rain and wind swooped in. It came in so fast that you could see it rolling across the sky and chasing away the blue skies over the fortress.

We started back to the station, and I had no umbrella, so I quickly became soaked. The German guys found my wet hair and disheveled appearance amazingly entertaining. Almost as entertaining as I found their lederhosen.  It’s difficult to maintain dignity when you are wet.

I grabbed a pretzel for the train ride and promptly fell asleep on the way back to Vienna. A wonderful day in the mountain  air.

That, my friends, is schnitzel.

Couples in Europe will be walking along casually, stop in the middle of the sidewalk or subway, start kissing passionately, then keep walking like nothing happened. No words are exchanged before or after. I don’t know how they both know when to do it. It’s  a little bizarre.

The day started with a pastry filled with ham and people kissing on the subway. We hopped off at Schonbrunn Palace, a site that had been highly recommended to us. The palace was the beautiful summer residence of the Hapsburg family. Your favorite history nerd was excited about going in because she wanted a history lesson about all the confusing dynasties in this region.  I even used an audio guide.

Schonbrunn Gardens

I knew going into the palace that Maria Theresa had 16 kids (ouch) who she married off throughout Europe–resulting in an intermarried European “uppercrust,”  as well as confusion for every World Civ student. Her youngest daughter was Marie Antoinette. She’s the woman little Mozart once played for in Schonbrunn Palace in one of the dining rooms we saw.

I hadn’t heard of “Sisi,” a random royal these people are absolutely obsessed with. There were Sisi signs literally all over the place. It was kind of strange to see her portrait on Sisi chocolates, tea cups, mugs, fans, postcards and who knows what else. She even has her own museum.

Turns out this woman was a royal with freakishly long hair that she spent several hours every day brushing. She also skipped meals to be skinny and was a famous beauty. She was murdered by an Italian anarchist, and I guess became a legend (the Austrian placard called her a myth, but I think that was just an unfortunate translation).

I loved learning about the rest of the family’s history. The gardens were also lovely and open to the public, and there were people running for exercise everywhere. I really miss running and am pretty jealous that they get to do it in a castle park.

It had been over 15 hours, so you know what it was time for….an ART MUSEUM! We went to the Kunsthistorisches Musuem. It was huge and very luxurious. I loved lingering over every painting, but my back was really rebelling today.

After the museum, we found a place for lunch near the lovely Church of St. Charles Borromeo. The pretty church has an oval reflecting pool in front that looked welcoming, since today was our first HOT day. Don’t worry, I restrained myself!

We had been set on trying schnitzel. It arrived and was huge. That was good, because it was also very expensive.Schnitzel is basically fried veal. We also had this super tangy potato salad. The schnitzel was good, but “schnitzel with noodles” will probably not become one of my favorite things.

After making ourselves finish the huge meal, we walked to the Belvedere, maybe my favorite site of the day. Yes, it was another art museum, but it was also on some of the prettiest grounds I’ve ever seen. Hollyhocks in droves, sparkling water and vibrant shrubs accented the already beautiful building. The most famous piece was Klimt’s “The Kiss,” but there were lots of appealing pieces to see in the naturally lit galleries overlooking the gardens. Next visit, I want to see the Lower Belvedere.

Claire was getting sick, so we took her to the pharmacy we found next to the Brazilian embassy to get her some medicine. It was pretty funny watching her try to describe her symptoms to the the German-speaking pharmacist. Hopefully they gave her the right thing!

We rushed to get to this little chocolate shop next to the cathedral before it closed, then headed back to the hostel. Claire fell asleep for a while, so I was worried that the pharmacist had given her the wrong thing. She revived, however, and we went out for an evening walk. We saw the Museum Quater, the Hofburg (the Hapsburg’s city residence) and the Vienna Opera. I also saw a glimpse of the iconic cathedrals’ unusual roof all lit up.

On the way back, we asked the concierge to read the directions on Claire’s medicine. They are in German, and an OD in Vienna does not sound fun.