Praha 22, or I Didn’t Know Happiness Until She Took Me Out To Lunch
(written 2/19/07)

Snapshot 2: Trudi

Trudi met Jill and me on the train platform in Vienna, where I all but stumbled into her arms. I was glad to see her, and exhausted. Trudi is an old family friend, who acts as though God sends all her children Vienna just so Trudi can take care of them. When my mother traveled to Europe more than thirty years ago, it was Trudi who met her for a few days in Vienna and treated her to all the luxuries a backpacker never enjoys. When I came to Europe without my family for the first time four summers ago, Trudi met me for the two hours I was in Vienna and stuffed me with coffee and apple strudel.

This time, Trudi had Jill and me in the train station restaurant with eggs, toast and coffee barely after we’d said hello. While Jill and I drank our coffee as quickly as we could, trying to wake ourselves up, Trudi opened her big black handbag and took out maps, guidebooks, and pamphlets, and spread them over the table. She’d marked one of the maps for us, noting the exact location of our hostel, the train station, and the center town, and marked all the possible routes to get to Vienna’s best sights. She’d bought us each a tram/metro pass that would cover us for our entire stay. And finally, a bag each of the famous Mozartkugel – small chocolate balls filled with pistachio and marzipan. She then escorted us from the train to our hostel, and promised to meet me the next morning.

The next day, the sky was clear and the sun was shining for the first time in a week. Trudi said she’d spoken personally to God about the weather, and was happy she’d been heard. We walked around outside the Winter Palace in Vienna, and she took me back to the same café we’d met at four summers ago for tea. I thought we would be walking somewhat slowly – after all, she’s not so young anymore, she was quick to point out – but every time I looked out of the corner of my eye, I saw the top of her fuzzy purple hat at my shoulder, keeping pace with me perfectly. Vienna is clearly in her bones; she knows all the walking routes by heart, and has no trouble navigating the large public transport system.

We had lunch at the top of a mountain. I’m not kidding – it was a beautiful drive up winding roads lined with stone walls, to a small restaurant that overlooked the entire city. With all the weather luck we had, it was possible to see out to the spires of St. Stephan’s, and all the way to Trudi’s neighborhood. The Danube looked like parallel brushstrokes, sweeping through the city like bold gray streaks through a head of very distinguished hair. Trudi and I talked for hours at the top of the mountain, going through each and every relative either of us could think of, sharing stories from our childhoods. She even told me stories about relatives I didn’t know existed!

We parted after sharing an evening concert in the famous Vienna concert hall – if you don’t know which one, spend your next New Years Eve with your local public television station, and watch for the Vienna Boy’s Choir concert. Being with Trudi was like drinking hot cider on a cold day in a strange city – a piece of far-flung home, pushing chocolate into my pockets and weaving stories around me like a nest.