09/06/07
It's a four hour ride from Prague to Vienna.
I made a good progress reading the Magic Mountain in the train.
I was shocked by the fact that the part when Hans Castorp speaks to Clavdia,
the part when Hans Castorp is seemed to be saying something romantic,
was written all in French...
I have to translate it when I get back to UK.
'what is time?'
Thomas Mann casts this question in the beginning of chapter six.
Looking outside from the train window, I felt that one can actually perceive the time passing by,
represented in visible forms, such as a fisherman in the river, children waiting at a level crossing,
all of which whizzed out of my sight in an instant.
But the towering thundercloud in the distance dissapears slowly out of my sight.
Like time, incidents that are near dissapears rapidly than the memories far behind.
As the train crossed the boader into Austria, the policemen came to check the passengers' passport.
They came around twice for departure and arrival into the country.
Arrived in Vienna at half past two.
I got on a tram to Vienna North station and from here, I walked for ten minutes to my hostel.
After a short rest, I was out in the streets of Vienna.
I went into a supermarket and realised that things are much more expensive and recalled the good cheap days in Prague...
From the North station, I walked down a large shopping street.
This street depressed me a little and a large clouds of people gave me the feeling of alienation.
Walking down the steet, passing shops after shops, thinking oh what a wretched city I've come.
But when I reached the older part of the city, near the Museum Quarter, my heart was uplifted a little.
Of course, people derives happiness from all sorts of things.
But why is it, that I have this longing for something uncivilised, something closer to nature?
Perhaps I was tired from living in a city.
Perhaps I needed a breeze.
It was a bit too late to go into museums, so I just kept walking and walking.
St. Michael Church was so peaceful.
Perhaps I was just tired.
After another long walk, I rested in Burggarten.
I seemed to be resting all the time during this trip.
In the evening, I was reading in the hostel's lounge.
There was a guy sitting next to me, also reading.
After a while, I asked him, what was it that he was reading.
I don't remember the book's title, but I do remember him saying,
'it's written by a Czech, I went to Prague, so that's why I'm reading it'.
His name was Billy.
The choice of books that he reads were along the same line as mine, and we struck up a conversation.
Since I didn't have any specific plan for tomorrow, we agreed to tour around Vienna together.
