"courage, dear heart": Vienna: My Heart Will Go On

My piano teacher swore I would regret it.

*eye roll*

Nonsense. I thought.

"My Heart Will Go On" was new symphonic classic! A musical masterpiece.

And I shoved Beethoven's Symphony No. 5 aside for another day.

Today, I would weep with Celine.

It was 1997.

And I was an idiot.

Of course it takes until at least your mid-thirties to truly feel the weight of regret.

Or in my case, our frosty four-days in Vienna.

Pristine, perfect, poetic Vienna.

Where every museum, every street, every edifice reflects the musicality of its cultural heritage.

Like an unsung melody that still sings in your ear.

Which brings me to my regret.

Our first morning in Vienna, I hustled our complaining crew to the Hofburg Music Chapel for a Sunday service which featured *drum roll* the Vienna Boys Choir.

*crickets*

That was the response I got from my kids.

They were like "so WHAT?"

Actually, it was a far more violent response. They were furious.

The chocolate milk bribery bought me nothing but a few moments of slurping silence.

Right, so you see my fantasy photos. Know the truth, reader:

I made them put on church clothes.

*insert cries of injustice*

It was flipping freezing out.

*imagine the endless whining*

And we had to walk 1 kilometer.

*envision the dramatic, sloth-walking*

Just to see some boys sing.

But, friends, mom, exes, the music that greeted us was . . . I. Can't. Even.

Angelic.

Transportive.

Otherworldly.

Mozart and Bach in majestic orchestration in this beautiful imperial chapel.

All that was missing was their version of Titanic's ballad.

Just kidding.

Who cares about my kids. Seriously.

It was glorious.

Jason and I were quite nearly in tears.

But, we're mainly German. So. . .

The next rebuke to my obsession with 90's pop piano arrangements was at the Haus der Musik.

As you entered the post-modern, tiered music museum, a gleaming baby grand beckoned for modern day Beethovens to showcase their talent.

Which they did.

Because it's Vienna. The classical musical capital of the world.

Well, it's a good thing I worked so hard on "My Heart Will Go On."

Here was my chance.

Since everyone loves to watch a mom in her mid-30's croon about lost loves at sea.

*sigh*

Seriously. Haus der Musik was fabulous and my kids were fascinated.

There was an entire exhibit that simulated the sounds a baby hears in the womb. Insane.

We all felt more sophisticated when we left.

And that sort of self-deception is worth every euro.

Old City Vienna, within the "Ringstrasse" (ring road), features your garden variety cathedrals of Hapsburg fame.

Which meant very little to me.

But everything to the tourist industry.

I have seen a few basilicas over the past 18 months and can I just say:

European cathedrals make American churches look like we're not even trying.

Like we've abandoned the faith.

Or our will to live.

It's a dismal comparison.

Fortunately, while man looks at the outward appearance, God is looking at the heart.

(I read that somewhere.)

Situated at old city's center, the Gothic exemplar- St. Stephen's Cathedral has held sanctified court for 700 years.

It's austerity and ominous, imposing grandeur is not my thang.

But, all the guide books instructed us to be impressed.

I tried to be.

But, I am kind over crusty, dark churches that smell like "asphyxiation by incense."

Still. The architectural nuances blah blah blah.

Guess who else is over churches?

My crew of three.

But, St. Peter's Cathedral was truly gorgeous to behold.

Which I've baptized "The Beyonce Cathedral."

Because it is be-dazzled.

With ornate religious bling.

Like gold, shiny shrines at every turn.

Even a halo.

*smirk*

The Natural History Museum looked like the set of The Night at the Museum. At any moment, I expected Ben Stiller to leap from behind marbled column and "blue steel" it up to us.

He didn't.

But, the museum did feature a roaring, life-size Tyrannosaurus Rex.

So, I don't need to tell you. This was a highlight for Jason. *wink*

Though, I nearly fell asleep looking at all of those fossils.

I hate fossils.

(And onions.)

But specific to this conversation, Paleolithic fossils.

However, my kids lost their minds over the interactive exhibits.

T-Rex bared his razor-sharp teeth and they nearly peed their pants. (see video below)

And that sealed the deal.

It was love at first chomp.

The world-renown, preeminent Vienna Opera House seemed like a great place to expose my three not quiet, lovelies to highbrow musicality.

Actually, it's a terrible idea, but a once in a lifetime one.

And well, YOLO.

96 seconds is the approximate length of Col's opera exposure.

Successful in that he was not expelled by a tuxedoed attendant!

Meanwhile, Caid & Eowyn (surprisingly) enjoyed La Boheme for markedly longer in their nose-bleed, gallery seats.

But, after 30 minutes, Caid had stripped himself of most of his church clothes and was making weapons with his program.

Time to exit stage left.

Plus, thirty minutes of opera and I am about ready for my fat pants, some chocolate and an episode of the "Crown."

#sorrynotsorry

Of course we sampled the fabled Viennese dessert, Sacher Torte at the historic Sacher Club with liveried doorman. So fancy.

We were like the Clampetts eating chocolate cake with Hapsburg royals in velvet- tufted dining room chairs in Damask-wall-papered dining rooms.

Col announced every time he passed gas.

So, we did our country proud.

You're welcome, America.

Finally, we toured the Imperial Hapsburg Palace. Which, indeed, "rivals Versailles."

Also, it rivals my house.

You just walk through these places and think, "Oh, gosh. I am so poor. I should have agreed to take my Grandmother's silver teapot. Stupid, Melissa. Just, stupid."

But, of course I am not. Poor, that is.

Stupid, possibly.

It is just humbling.

Fortunately, this world isn't my permanent home.

Or all these monarchs could make me feel self-conscious about my junk Rubbermaid.

Not my good Rubbermaid. I feel great about that.

Christmas markets dotted the "platzes" (main squares) and Jason enjoyed real bratwurst and it was all very freezing, but Rockwellian for about 30 seconds.

Before the kids starting whining about the cold. And their hunger. And the bathroom.

So I took a picture. To remember the 30 seconds when they were happy.

Our final morning was spent at the world famous Spanish Riding School Lipizzaner training of the stallions, which dates back to the Renaissance. Within these splendid baroque hall, lit by elegant chandeliers, horsemanship is showcased and accompanied by classical music.

Of. Course.

Because when you think of riding horses, you think of Bach.

Cowboys. John Wayne. And Strauss.

I get it, Vienna.

You are culturally superior.

I am comparatively, a cultural Neanderthal.

I should be mopping to Mozart. Instead of Meghan Trainor. *blush*

I should have mastered more than Fur Elise and Canon in D.

I should have just let "My Heart" go on. So to speak.

However, what a I lack in classical piano training, I make up for in cookie-baking skills.

And a recent survey indicates people enjoy cookies more than classical musical.

Actually, I made that up. Fingers-crossed, it's actually true.