The Shadow-gloom and Weight of the Sacred

On March 10, the day before we flew out of Vienna, I went to the Sigmund Freud Museum. It was a complete disappointment, even for someone who finds Freud fascinating. It was kind of cool to stand in the place where Freud worked and wrote, but most of the apartment was empty except for a few pieces of art, and the coolest sections of Freud's life--his study and library--were off-limits to visitors. Only one room, the waiting room, was restored to look as it did when Freud lived there; two other rooms were covered in photographs and other memorabilia from Freud's life, which was by no means uninteresting, but it was anti-climatic when compared to my hopes and dreams for the museum. It was basically a walk through a vacant apartment.

The ubahn station closest to the Sigmund Freud Museum is Schottentor (you can find the museum and its proximity to Schottentor on my in-progress Google Map of Vienna: The Gypsy's Vienna). Gretchen and I used the Schottentor station a lot because we studied German at the University's Sprachenzentrum. During the Spring of 2008, we walked from the ubahn station across Sigmund Freud Park, and around Votivkirche to our class. Also near Schottentor is the best, if not the only, place for Tex-Mex food in Vienna: Fresco Grill.

We went to Fresco Grill often during our time in Vienna. It was special not just to us, but to our teammates and to every American I know living in Vienna. While it's true that good Tex-Mex and Mexican food is nearly impossible to find in Europe, it would be a injustice on my part to simplify Fresco Grill to being only that (i.e., place for good, American food). Fresco Grill wasn't just good food, it was a little bit of home.

When I walked from Sigmund Freud Museum to Schottentor, I stopped just before entering the station and looked to see if I could see Fresco Grill. Sure enough, a few blocks down the street I could make out the green and yellow sign. I looked at it for a few seconds--I wanted to make sure I saw it one last time before leaving, not just for my sake of sentimentality, but as a vague show of respect, of thanks, of appreciation. So many times we wanted a little contact with home, but no one called, emailed, sent letters or even seemed to notice us. Sometimes, we were just lonely for home and there wasn't any way to be there. But, we could go Fresco Grill--Gretchen and I or with our teammates-- and think about home. It was a little taste of home when we most needed it. I have good reason to be thankful, respectful and appreciative of that place.