Joanna Castle

Standing in the front row energetically bobbing her head and shaking her pelvis like Elvis, was Betsy Tiefenbrunner, an American living in Vienna for the last thirty years. She never missed a lyric, her silver hair supporting her claim that she had been on hand the first time around, rocking out at three (yes 3!) Beatles concerts back in the glory years of the 1960s. And though the Beatles tribute band entertaining today weren’t the real deal, they were more than good enough; she couldn’t have minded less.

Peering out through frosted windows from the warmth of a snug Viennese apartment, falling snow painted the city an enchanting white. But by the next morning reality had set in. Traffic had turned the streets into a slushy brown mess, making boots a must for the Viennese, along with long fur coats and thick wool scarves. And hats, which are now as ever, still an event. January is especially hard going for visitors in Vienna, because so much of the city’s charm is revealed through walking the old streets and calling for armor against the cold. Even horses that pull the fiacre in the city are draped in wool blankets for protection against the harsh wind as they carry tourists through the squares craning their necks at the architecture.