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A Sunday in Vienna

Everything is quiet in Vienna today. Or it looks so through the window of a small Japanese restaurant right next to Naschmarkt. It is Sunday, noon time. God has created the world for six days, and in the seventh he has decided to take a rest. Obviously, almost all the shops in the Austrian capital followed him. At least the tram runs through the street, and here and there passengers walk along the closed shop windows, so something looks live in the city at all.

And the weather is miraculously wonderful. On that day the sky is covered with scattered clouds that play a leap-frog like game in the endless blue. A perfect time to stroll among the impressive old palaces, monuments and churches in Vienna, especially if there is no sign of the typical wind that shakes the geraniums on the windows of the local houses and cuts heaps of leaves in the streets in the Vienna waltz rhythm.

The flavour of the Japanese Shincha green tea and the taste of my favorite miso soup bring me back to life after the early flight this morning. Vienna's beauty and Sunday's timelessness are a great cure for any nostalgia. Everything is in its right place. The heavenly forces have taken care of everything as it is. There are tourists from all over the world strolling among the famous sites of Vienna. They gaze at them, hang around, and go on to their next destination. Like all of us. The locals walk casually their pets or ride bikes on the wide bike alleys. Ticket vendors dressed up in Mozart's time costumes walk around with bored faces around the Vienna Opera House expecting another group of Japanese admirers of the classical music. The horse carriage drivers near Michaelertrakt and the surrounding museum area tighten the carriages for the next tourists. The horses are tidy, playful and batter with their freshly horseshoed hooves that have just been checked by a blacksmith on the cobblestones. Fountains spray tons of fine droplets that refresh the air and shine in the sun with marvelous light effects. On that day, everything seems appealing. Even the monuments of the plague epidemic victims do not bring sadness to the soul, but somehow resemble with their beautiful compositions that the world is wonderful or not, magical or not, good or not. And it's us who choose how to see it.