Published with permission from LuxuryWeb Magazine
Around 66 years ago, I embarked on my first European adventure when my father declared, “We should instill culture in the children.” At the time, I was living in Greece with my parents and younger brother, still navigating the challenges of high school.
Thus, my mother, a few of her friends, and I set off on an escorted summer trip to Austria and Germany. We departed from Piraeus by ship to Venice, where we spent a day in La Serenissima before continuing to Vienna via a “Pullman Bus,” as luxury coaches were known in Greece back then, crossing the scenic Brenner Pass.
In Vienna, we stayed at the prestigious Imperial Hotel Wien for nearly a week, where we immersed ourselves in the city’s rich cultural offerings. We attended operas at the Wiener Staatsoper, enjoying “Madame Butterfly” one night and “Tannhäuser” on another, with Lehar’s operetta “The Land of Smiles” at the Volksoper Wien in between.
A cultural oasis
Admittedly, except for Tannhäuser, I found the performances a bit tedious, but I was only 16 at the time. We also toured every palace open to the public, wandered through numerous palace gardens, and explored many of the city’s renowned art museums and landmarks.
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The most vivid memory I have of the Imperial Hotel is the food. Despite my mother being considered one of Athens’ finest home cooks, I was a notoriously picky eater, subsisting primarily on charcoal-grilled lamb chops, French fries, and the occasional hardboiled egg.
But the cuisine at the Imperial was something entirely different. I had never tasted Wiener schnitzel before, and the hotel’s main restaurant served a tender, generously-sized schnitzel that nearly spilled over the plate, topped with a dollop of melty, herbed compound butter.
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The hotel’s less formal restaurant offered a delightful “Assiette Anglaise,” a cold cuts plate featuring thinly sliced, rare roast beef. In Greece, most of the meat we consumed was either lamb or pork, with “rosebif” being an overcooked, leathery slice of veal. But here, the Assiette Anglaise included slices of ham, salami, chorizo, and other preserved meats, along with a cold chicken drumstick, pickled pimientos, cucumbers, and potato salad. Paired with a cold beer, it was nothing short of ambrosia!
Another unforgettable experience in Vienna was visiting the Prater and taking a ride on the Riesenrad, the giant Ferris wheel. I had recently watched the atmospheric black-and-white Orson Welles film “The Third Man,” which, despite being produced in 1949, was still showing in Greek cinemas in 1955/56.
The Ferris wheel featured prominently in the film, and although I hoped to see the Vienna sewer system as depicted in the movie, the Ferris wheel ride sufficed. I spent the rest of the day whistling the theme from “The Third Man.” However, the “Beautiful Blue” Danube left me disappointed; to my eyes, it was neither blue nor particularly beautiful.
Exploring Munich
From Vienna, we journeyed through Germany to Munich. My mother and her friends indulged in some shopping, taking advantage of the fact that high-end products were much cheaper in Germany than in Athens. At the time, luxury goods, including cosmetics, were heavily taxed in Greece, with import duties ranging from 200 to 500 percent on the total costs, including freight and insurance. As a result, our luggage consisted of large, half-empty suitcases ready to be filled.
While my mother shopped, I was thrilled to be dropped off at Munich’s Deutsche Museum, which was, and likely still is, one of the world’s foremost science museums, featuring a multitude of interactive exhibits and a full-scale model of a mine shaft in the basement.
Munich’s beer halls were another highlight. These Bavarian institutions have been operating in the same locations for centuries, usually as parts of a brewery. The beer was fresh, and the food simple and traditional, with an abundance of wurst. One of the young men on our trip was a brewmaster at a brewery in Athens, and he had friends in Munich where he had studied beer-making.
I was fortunate enough to join him when he met his German friends at the Hofbräuhaus, a local institution and popular tourist attraction. There, I enjoyed my first 2-liter beer mug and sampled grilled bratwurst, bauernwurst, and other varieties of wurst, all served with potato salad. Later in life, during my European travels, I returned to Munich for Oktoberfest, where I indulged in many more mugs of beer.
Wurst is a significant part of German national heritage, with over 1,000 varieties encompassing not only sausages but also any type of smoked, cured, or preserved meat. Another “exciting” activity while my mother shopped was waiting for the Rathaus Glockenspiel at the town hall.
The Marienplatz was packed with tourists awaiting the clock’s show that goes off three times per day. During this time, Durwhich’s 32 life-sized figures reenact scenes from Munich’s history.
The event occurs three times daily—at 11 am, noon, and 5 pm. Visitors can also explore the inner courtyard, home to a biergarten, the Ratkeller restaurant in the cellar, and climb the tower for a panoramic view of the square. As far as I know, this event still takes place daily in Munich!
We dined at the “Roter Huhn” restaurant, where I had my first taste of Sauerbraten. Washed down with good Bavarian beer, it was yet another culinary revelation.
Our return journey from Munich took us back through Salzburg and Vienna. My memories of Salzburg are vague, but I do recall the hotel’s garden, which was filled with blooming hydrangeas, and the walk through the old town, where shops still displayed exterior tin signs with images representing the goods sold inside—a tradition dating back to medieval times when most townsfolk were illiterate.
Back in Vienna, we stayed at the Hotel Sacher, home of the famous Sacher Torte! The hotel’s cafés and bars are still meeting places for artists, writers, politicians, and heads of state.
The sumptuous rooms are furnished with comfortable antique furniture, and portraits of emperors and other prominent members of Viennese high society adorn the walls. The hotel’s restaurants remain integral to Viennese culture, frequented by anyone who is anyone. Naturally, I made sure to indulge in a piece of the legendary Sacher Torte every day, accompanied by generous dollops of Schlag (unsweetened whipped cream).
Finally, we returned to Venice for a brief visit, staying just one night before boarding our ship for the return voyage. However, I still made time to savor a cup of espresso at Café Florian, the famous pastry shop with tables in Piazza San Marco, where, remarkably, the myriad pigeons never seem to bother the patrons.
I haven’t been back to Munich since then… C’est la vie!
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