Coffee and cake in Dresden

I am quite fond of the German tradition of ‘kaffee und kuchen’. The Germans mostly do this at 4pm, however the best time for my circadian rhythm is 8-10am, so I was pleased that Google AI recommended a café that opened at 9, an hour earlier than most of its fellow providers. I was looking for the best place in Dresden’s Old Town to try the local delicacy, Eierscheke. 

Finding the place with Google Maps, and having enjoyed the walk past the Women’s Church and the pastel-coloured facades around it, I was now in an unfamiliar situation: The German sign on the locked door instructed the customer to wait until a previous customer exited, since there were no free tables at the moment. A seeming contradiction were the two tables and four chairs directly in front of high, open windows. I assumed the open windows indicated signs of life, and Google’s business database was pretty reliable, so I assumed that I would do the inconvenient thing of waiting in the wilting sun for someone to leave the miniature establishment. 

After a few minutes I started to get restless. I tried the door again, and decided to call the café, but just as I was doing that a couple of Germans joined me in front of the door. It turned out they had also googled the best Eierscheke in town, but the white man of the two had an advantage over me: height. He could see people inside the cafe through the windows. We made small talk and mused over why nobody was sitting at the outdoor tables. The Black woman was rueful: “It looks like a scam.” The man opined that I had come from the “better” part of Germany when I shared I had come from Hannover. I was unwilling to disparage Dresden before having given it a chance, but this was not the first German to share such sentiments with me. I was, however, warming to them, and offered to share a table if a four-seating arrangement was available.

Just at that time a few people left the café, and soon we were seated (at two different tables). The wait staff was an elderly gentleman who treated each of us with attention. He gravitated to the new couple, with whom he could speak with in German, and I heard him recommend a restaurant I had already eaten at, known in town for its Saxon cuisine. 

When it was my turn to order I did so in German, and continued, with a mixture of German and English, to show interest in the city by explaining that I was there for 7 days. He recommended a funicular experience which had not been in the guidebook, and for this I was thankful, but I wanted to stay on my feet where I could… I’d have many calories to walk off after trying the various desserts Dresden had to offer.

When the wait staff was attending to other tables I took note of my surroundings. There was Hollywood film memorabilia from previous decades on the walls, and something about ‘be friendly, please’. Having only four tables probably contributed to this cosy atmosphere, and the man’s warm welcome to me and the mixed race couple inspired me to return the warmth. 

The cake? Delicious, but I was expecting that. The cappuccino was too bitter for me, so I added a little sugar. Eierscheke is a kind of cheesecake, the Eier meaning eggs, and this particular cake had three layers, one more sponge-like, and another more creamy. While I hadn’t had it before, I could tell that it was of exceptional quality. 

The white guy felt it too, and communicated his appreciation with a hand gesture as well as words. I commented on the cake’s freshness and superlative goodness in German, and got a smile from the senior. 

Like many German interiors, the walls were white, and the colour came in accents: red and white tablecloths, light green curtains. Little ornaments and life-affirming sayings came in dark brown with white text. I got the impression of a lot of attention to detail. 

Without my limited German, I would not have known to wait at the door, and may not have received the personalised recommendation. I’m thankful for the gift of language learning: appreciating that not everybody speaks English, or that even if they do, there is no language that feels like home more than one’s native tongue. 

Why I write

Writing synthesises contradictory impulses.

While I was wondering whether to pick yellow or blue, I realised silver was my colour.

Out of multiple paths, a single stream is forged. Out of a simple way forward, forks appear like blooms.

I chase after a suitable digression.

I reinvent integrity.

I regather confidence.

I maim the inner critic (for the time being).

I caress faded insights into newfound vivacity.

Why do you write?

I write to return to a state of not knowing.

Let old certainties fall away.

I can’t tell if I’m resting or active: 

Different parts of my world are animated.

Viennese Wanderings

Disembarking from the D tram and walking a little bit in the direction of the Hofburg, I noticed St Stephen’s Cathedral dominating the skyline to my right. The third day of Viennese explorations, I set out to receive what this landmark had to offer by way of meandering through the Innere Stadt.

There seem to be no two of those wedding cake buildings alike. I wove through construction workers and delivery men, gaze directed upwards, appreciating Baroque renderings of humans seemingly holding balconies in place, and other lyrical details. A smooth blend of angles and curves danced around each other. Eventually I emerged into a quiet thoroughfare, where a pretty mural representing people from the Middle East was vaguely reminiscent of Klimt, with gold overlays. I noticed that it housed a Swatch branch. 

Nearby, a delicate, medieval mural beckoned, with rich, solid colours such as lavender-hued blue and garnet bringing figures of women to life. A stately font declared something in German which eluded me. My perspective recalibrated to take in the full picture: I was standing in front of the Aida café, where Mum had suggested I enjoy something sweet in. Right around the corner: the Cathedral.

The distinctive geometric patterns of the Gothic structure appealed to me, the diamond shape recurring in several variations. With its high-contrast colours in black, white, emerald and gold, it invited pondering. Luckily, the best seat in Konditorei Aida was available, allowing me a good view of this roof, as well as passers-by. 

I asked for kaiserschmarmm, a Viennese specialty, and, while it wasn’t quite the same as that of the Kunsthistorisches Museum, it was tasty. It is a caramelised, shredded pancake with plum jam and ice cream. The ice cream was to die for.

After having sated my appetite, it was finally time for St Stephen’s to open to tourists, but I wasn’t appreciative of the monotonous dark browns of the interior, and, after noting some pleasing stained glass windows, and a wooden carving of a man in medieval attire which had atmosphere, it was time to depart.

One last glance at a cornflour blue clock built in to the wall of the cathedral’s exterior, and I set out to explore more of the Innere Stadt, this time with the Kunsthistorisches Museum (Art History Museum) in mind.

Along the way I noticed more famous brands - Swarovski, Hello Kitty, McDonald’s - and the invariably beautiful buildings that gave them a home.

This two-part journey represents most of the flaneur-ing I did in Vienna. 

Viennese Fragments and Trails

Where last year I stopped to admire the Austrian embassy in Valletta, this year I spotted a Maltese church in Vienna. The European nations are intricately interconnected.

One unexpected find from the Royal Apartments of the Habsburgs was that Empress Sisi installed circular grips, dangling from the ceiling of a personal room, so she could work out inside the palace. This horrified many in the court, but she refused to give it up. 

I recognised in Sisi the longing for freedom, and attempts to escape the confinement of the Hofburg (the palace). She seemed to have some insight into the fetishising of travel though, seemingly gained after ordering a holiday residence in Corfu, Greece, and then losing interest in it at some point down the line. On this topic, she reflects that travel was only exciting because it involved a collision with the unknown. If she stayed somewhere long enough, she got itchy feet once more.

*

The D tram would take me part of the way from my lodging to the Old Town, and the rest of the journey would be completed by foot. This had the effect of manifesting two places of interest I’d read about but hadn’t expected to get to: St Charles’ Church and Café Schwarzenberg. 

I recognised the Church at a distance, with its distinctive dome flanked by giant spires, and instinctively crossed streets to meet it at eye level. Unfortunately, the building was somehow too grand and imposing once I had an unobstructed view, so I didn’t linger in the square it was on too long. I circled the building, and found ornamentation on the building behind it which was more digestible in scale. With Christian crosses, angels and an ornate style, this scalable beauty invited slowing down and taking it in. Perched on a typical, wedding cake style Viennese facade, it was a vision in white, teal, black, red and gold. Distinctive elements, which would have on their own constituted a masterpiece, came together over a generous expanse of wall, to create a splendid whole.

Spotting Café Schwarzenberg, remembering it being recommended by a blogger, and nabbing a table by the window, I observed both locals and tourists making themselves at home in the brown interiors gilded with gold. In truth, I felt unsettled: it was too late in the day for a melange (the coffee preferred by the Viennese), and too early in the day for me to feel I’d earned rest. I left after half an hour, wary of the easy smiles of white, heterosexual-looking men who either chatted amongst each other or took advantage of the free newspapers. (Was it them who had supported the far right in the last election?)

That same day I had pre-purchased a ticket to the Albertina (the modern art museum), and I was eager to go in at its opening hour of 10am. I enjoyed the exhibitions, especially a painting of flowers by Matisse, and doting drawings of Rubens’ children. Enjoying a world-class museum is to be expected, however, which is why I’ve focused on the unplanned parts of my journey.

All in all, Vienna might not be the first city in Europe you associate me with, but if you look for radical and alternative cultures, you will find them. The setting is often one of great beauty, sprinkling many memorable moments along the way.