Scenes of Vienna

Another drop on my window and I will freak out. In Vienna, it has been raining for almost a month without a break. Okay, we did have some sunny days, sparks of hope that the summer has truly come. Nevertheless, the very next day the sky would open its wide mouth again and spill oceans of water onto our weary world. No bicycles, no runners, no couples on benches or poets wandering the town in search of inspiration.

I’m walking in the manicured grounds of Schönbrunn with Thomas Bugnyar, Professor of Cognitive Ethology at the University of Vienna. It’s late afternoon; heavy thunderclouds have dispersed and a monsoon-like downpour has just rained itself out. Moments ago, shrieking schoolchildren ran for cover and mothers desperately shielded babies and toddlers with umbrellas too small for the job. Now though, the wet lawns and paths are beginning to steam under a hot May sun, and a pale woman uses an umbrella to shield herself from its rays.

Walking up Mariahilfestrasse from the Museumsquartier the other day, the aromas from the nearby bakeries flooded my senses, tickling my nose and teasing my taste buds. My mouth began to water, my stomach to growl in complaint. Croissants! You’ve likely been in Vienna long enough not to be bothered by this smell anymore; I’ve just arrived, and I’m helpless. But then again, for me this is a love of long standing.

Austrian films have been garnering both critical attention and prizes in recent years. In honor of the Wien Museum's new exhibition, Vienna in Film, we choose our top-10 capital film moments. If you'd like to get a taste of how the city looks on celluloid, there is a splendid compilation of clips ('Shot in Vienna') on the Film Commission's website.

So what were our criteria? Intelligence, fresh perspectives, capturing the city's spirit and, of course, a good watch. Films that are curious about details of city life and bring a distinctive vision. Only half the films we've chosen were made by Austrians. But see these ten and you'll have a deeper understanding of what makes Vienna special.

It was shortly after 11 a.m., when I entered Vienna’s legendary Café Hawelka in Dorotheergasse off the Graben. April 24, 2010 – but it could have been 1939 when Leopold and Josefine Hawelka first opened the doors of their new Kaffeehaus. Although their grandson Amir is now the owner, Leopold, dressed neatly in a suit and bow tie, welcomes every guest with a warm smile, every day from 10 to 1 p.m., except on Tuesdays – closing day.

The café owner turned 99 on Apr. 11.

Coming out of the U-Bahn station at Stephansplatz, I step into a mild spring day, blinking at the bright sunlight, breathing in the fragrance of blossoming trees and the sharp smell of – is it really? – horses.

I look around. Through the shuffle of people, most ignoring the beauty of the day, nothing is clear but their blurred silhouettes. A snort comes from right behind me. Over my shoulder, a row of horses attached to elegant carriages stomp their hooves on the cobbles, and throw a head in vague boredom. Slowly time melts away, 100 years, 200 years…

All I could hear was the scuffling of shoes and the plodding of feet. I felt heavy breathing from behind me, making the hair on the back of my neck prickle. My pace instinctively quickened before I realized the pursuers’ breath was only warm air blowing from an unseen vent. And then I made contact.

“Someone just stepped on my foot,” my friend announced, loud enough for the whole group to hear.

“That was me, sorry.” I shot back in a whisper, hoping no one could see me blushing. Then I remembered no one could see me at all.

Not many urban centers can boast a pristine 200-year-old oak forest within their city limits. Just a short ride on public transport from Vienna’s center, though, brings you to just such a place: The Research Institute of Wildlife Ecology in Vienna’s 16th District, where I’ve come to meet Dr. Richard Zink.

It was a cold winter day as I stepped through the partial ruins of what was one of the oldest Viennese train stations, the Südbahnhof/Ostbahnhof. What existed in front of me were only men operating clawed machine monsters, ripping apart the concrete and paving the way for something new: the Vienna Hauptbahnhof.