Brahms, Strauss and Singing Toilets

Sometimes at home I have to think a minute--or a few minutes--about my daily posts. What thoughts have come to me during a walk in the suburbs? What snatch of ordinary life do I want to write about today?

But now ordinary life is standing on end. Into our ears pours the mellifluous sounds of spoken Austrian (which Suzanne tells us is distinctly different from German). Into our eyes comes a constant stream of images. Every sense is alerted. This is a different country, a different way of living in this world.

So what do I pick today? On our first night, crossing into the First District through the underground shopping area of Karlsplatz, we passed a singing toilet. The melodies of Strauss poured from the open door. It was corny, schmaltzy, complete kitsch. But this is Vienna, the city of Beethoven and Strauss and Brahms. So all is forgiven.