Vienna, Twice Over: Mozart by Day, Karlskirche by Night

The next morning I was in the Burggarten early enough that the snow still had that first-hour look of being untouched, the Mozart monument catching the low sun straight on, his name cut into marble and packed with wreaths at the base, the Hofburg standing pale and enormous behind the bare trees. Karlskirche came at midday, its green dome and the two carved columns flanking it doubled perfectly in a puddle at my feet, an ATM kiosk parked incongruously in front of a building three hundred years older than the concept of one.

By evening I was at the MuseumsQuartier, its facade lit up with words projected big enough to read from across the square, something about being the revolution you want to see, two Christmas trees strung with lights standing sentry on either side while a crowd stood around not quite sure whether to read it as art or slogan. I ended up back at Karlskirche after dark anyway, its dome lit white and green above its own small Christmas market, a heart shaped light glowing red near what looked like a little ferris wheel, tucked in against Baroque stonework that had clearly seen stranger neighbors than a carnival ride.

The same dome, reflected in a puddle at noon and lit up like a carnival by night, somehow doing double duty as both a monument and a fairground attraction in the same day.

Two nights in Vienna altogether by the time this day was done, most of it spent walking between one lit-up thing and the next, before the next train pulled me toward Prague.