THE HEART OF THE MATTER

Bridging Europe's east and west, Vienna came of age in the 19th century but has become the forward-thinking, go-slow city we need right now.

- Rick Jordan

A stepped off a train here three decades ago and have been finding my way back ever since. Some cities seem to encapsulate a mood, and while Vienna may forever be immortalised in a certain glacial hit of the 1980s, there's also a 1970s Billy Joel song of the same name that feels more apt. “Slow down, you're doing fine,” goes the refrain, “you can afford to lose a day or two.” This is a city where it’s easy to take your time. In Before Sunrise (1995), Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy meet on a train and alight in Vienna, meandering the streets until dawn. Rarely crowded, it has space to think; the potential for chance encounters. While some cities clear out in summer, leaving the door open for visitors to close, Vienna is always itself.

I’ve done a lot of meandering here myself, sometimes with violin and contraltos providing an accidental soundtrack. Some Polaroids: in the winter, snow crisping the old rooftops, skating the frozen pathways of the town hall with my young son. Sprawled in black tie after a classical ball, devouring hot dogs and Champagne at 4am. Dangling my legs over the Donaukanal, with a beer to hand, sunshine on the graffitied walls. One time, on my way to the Leopold Museum, I squeeze through a street choir from Beijing, all dressed in pink and singing “Edelweiss”. For coffee, a bentwood chair in the '60s time capsule Café Korb, its waiters reliably indifferent, watched over by portraits of its owner, actress Susanne Widl; for schnitzel, Glacis Beisl, just yards from the upcycled Habsburg pomp of the MuseumsQuartier.