The Mystical Creature of Vienna

Gena shrieked as we waltzed through the Innere Stadt section of Vienna: “Oh my God,” she pointed, “I want one!”

In the land of gumdrop-shaped shrubbery and fairytale palaces, it’s easy to feel like a kid again. It was particularly easy for Gena; behind her bosom beats the heart of a playful child.

But by no means did she look a child. With a white tube top – which, I swear, you could see through if the light hit it right – and tight, teal, tiny shorts, she demanded the attention of every male in the Austrian alleyways.

She grabbed my arm and jerked me away from our small group of travelers. “I want a balloon animal,” she said, but I pretended not to hear. With little hesitation, she tugged harder. “Come!”

Gena yanked me through the crowded square toward a fat, not-so-jolly clown with make-up streaking down his sweaty face. His bag of balloons, slumped around his shoulder, jiggled as he danced a stupid jig to attract customers.

Gena bounced in front of the clown. “Can you make me a kangaroo?”

The clown replied in heavily accented English. “Kan-gar-roo?” He shrugged. “Nein. No kan-gar-roo.”

She tried again: “How about a penguin?”

The clown glanced at me as I rolled my eyes. I knew he couldn’t possibly create a penguin by twisting together a few inflated plastic tubes, and he knew it. Gena, however, continued listing her demands.

“A grasshopper – no, a horsefly! What about a dinosaur? Or a duck? Is that too easy? Maybe a hippo!”

Seemingly oblivious to the entire conversation, the clown raised his smeared white eyebrows and simply said, “Pink or black?”

Gena touched her finger to her lip, looked at me, and said, “Red!”

The clown flashed us a cocky smile and whipped out a long red balloon. In one smooth motion he pumped it up, and then began molding it into a mysterious, but familiar, shape.

After tying off the open end of the inflated balloon, he twisted the closed end into a stout nub. Then, flipping the balloon around, he bent the bottom third of the tube into two symmetrical ovals that somewhat resembled the floppy ears of a hound dog.

Except they weren’t ears.

The clown, for the first time since we started talking with him, laughed as he gave Gena her balloon. After a brief moment of confused hesitation, she obnoxiously started laughing, pausing only to let off a staccato snort.

I tipped the clown a few Euros, although I’m not sure why, and walked away as Gena sprinted to catch up with the group, her new souvenir in hand.

Now, if you look closely in the precious photography of my group’s visit to gothic cathedrals and ancient sculptures – priceless documentation of my first trip to Austria – you will find this bright red balloon animal stalking us within the frames.

And that animal, of course, is a long, thick trouser dragon.

Hide the children in Vienna. The jesters in this fairytale are perverts.

Vienna, Austria

The Charles Bridge

At its most basic level, Charles Bridge is -- well, a bridge. It connects the shops, clubs, and cafés on the east side of the Vltava with the restaurants, museums, and pubs on its west.

While crossing the bridge, travelers not only traverse the river, but also admire Prague’s ancient architecture and famous statuary. The monument to John Nepomucene, who was thrown from the bridge by King Wenceslaus IV in the 14^th century for not revealing Queen Sofia’s confessional secrets, stands in the bridge’s center. Polished pieces of bronze gleam amid a tarnished body, a result of admirers’ constant rubbing. Legend says that, by rubbing the statue, St. John will keep your secrets and wishes safe.

Yes, the bridge has history. Its structure, spanning 6 centuries, connects the past with the present. But the bridge also connects cultures. Walking from one side to the other, you may hear aboriginal tribal music, New Orleans jazz, and Germanic polka. Americans, Europeans, Africans and Asians brush shoulders between the banks. You will see beggars intermixed with merchants, painters mingling with photographers, and construction workers lunching with club promoters. Prague is known as the crossroads of Europe, uniting East with West, and the bridge is its focal point.

At its most basic level, Charles Bridge is a bridge. But to its travelers, it connects much more than two sides of a river. 

Prague, Czech Republic