I woke sometime after 3am, the fourth time of the night. After laying in bed for another couple of hours, I decided that the insomnia had won and I finally crawled to my feet. Trying not to wake anyone else in the room, I quietly dressed for the day, packed up the last of my things, and checked out of the hostel.

Moments before the express train to Vienna was set to depart, I reached the station and climbed aboard. As the train made its way across Austria, the fog and snow outside made me feel cold enough to dig a heavier coat out of my bag. The trip felt long, despite being labeled an express, but we arrived in Vienna early enough that it was still 4 hours before I could check in to the new hostel. Fortunately the receptionist, Vreni, was kind enough to let me store some of my bags while I toured the city.

Compared to Salzburg, Vienna is huge. One interesting spot on my map that I thought was nearby turned out to be over 45 minutes away. I walked down the main street towards it anyways, taking in the buildings and shops along the way. Nearly each had a shop on the ground floor, and what I assumed were residences above, reminding me of the photos of New York City from the 19th century.

Eventually I made it to the Museum Quarter and the beginning of my photographic day. Step after step, and photo after photo, I made my way around the town, passing large palaces and ornate statues, one after another.

Finally noting the time, I decided to head back towards the hostel. Somewhere along the way, I ended up getting turned around, and with each attempt to find my way, I only ended up more lost. Two hours later, I managed to reorient myself and begin the long trek back.

Back at the hostel, I showered and changed, choosing to spend the evening at an opera I had seen a flyer for earlier, hoping my black leather jacket would be nice enough to compensate for the jeans and sneakers I wore.

Leaving the subway, I headed towards the Wiener Staatsoper opera house, where I was approached by a man holding two tickets, saying he could no longer attend. My first thought was that it was a trick by a scalper, but I purchased one anyways and headed inside to find my seat.

Since Austria primarily speaks German, I was surprised to find the opera sung in French. I tried to follow along as best I could, but my limited high school understanding of French is mediocre at best, and that's if it's written. Spoken, I'd have no chance. Luckily each seat had a small translation screen, allowing me to read along in English.

Taking the subway back to the hostel, I changed again and went down to the hostel's bar for the free wine they were offering their guests. While there, I found myself talking to a fellow North Carolinian, albeit one from Raleigh not Charlotte. During our talk, he provided a bit of worldly insight:

"All people are the same: they just want a good time, and to get drunk."

While waiting for another drink to be poured, I noticed the two girls from the reception desk playing a game of pool. One of them scratched, the cue ball not hitting anything on its way to the pocket, and I chuckled. She noticed and walked over to scold me, then invited me to play against them.