Unprepared...

I was not prepared for this history, this moment.  Within minutes of landing in Vienna, for my first time in Europe and first time to travel internationally, we took our luggage by U-Bahn (subway) to the hotel to begin a day of sightseeing. A day including a tour of Saint Stephen’s Cathedral dating to 1147, viewing the death mask of Mozart, examining ruins of the Roman city of Vindobona, the predecessor of Vienna, and a walk through the Austrian Kaiser’s palace. Plans for the evening included a dinner of Wiener Schnitzel, and celebrating Saint Patrick’s day at the only bona fide Irish Pub in town. After dropping our luggage at the hotel, we walked down the cobblestone street in search of a genuine Café Vienna, an espresso with a generous dollop of whipped cream dusted with cocoa powder.  Rich, earthy, and so decadent, the beverage was inspired by the abundant supply of coffee left by the Muslim army who laid siege to the city during the Middle Ages. The drink, served in a distinctive handled glass was originally an accommodation for the city’s carriage drivers.

Walking down the sidewalk brass letters caught my eye, words in German, my high school and college courses in the language helped me to make out. “in this building, in 1942 was a Jewish orphanage, 12 men and women and 39 children were deported to Auschwitz, and murdered by the Nazis.

I stood there, excited for the promise of coffee, and a selection of the pastries and croissants who the Viennese say originated there instead of Paris, which we could smell from the bakeries on every other corner. Yet expectation of all the joys a day of exploring one of the most historically significant cities of Europe could bring vanished and I became somber and misty eyed. 12 Männer und Frauen, 39 Kinder. I was not prepared for THAT history, THAT moment.