'S gibt eine belebte Straße stone’s throw from Bushaltestelle Pilgramgaße.
Then a hop, skip, jump toward Mariahilferstraße up that next street, the one that bears Minister Bauer’s name. Da drüben, jetzt links, you’ll spot Heinzi’s Beisl. You just need to look closely on the left up there.
Tiny Beisl, 5 tables? 2 bar seats? Cafe Jelinek’s entries and exits next door can easily obfuscate Heinzi’s entrance. Careful or you’ll miss it.
Old Heinzi, the one man show. Takes your order, pours your Wieselburger Bier, pounds your schnitzel. Steps outside to sweep the sidewalk free of sediment and suck down a cigarette when all’s in order. Comes back to make sure you’re pleased, to take your payment, but only when you’re ready.
Prices there are as minimal as the maximum occupancy.Old Heinzi, he won’t take a tip either, not an American sized one. “Zwanzig pro Cent Trinkgeld, bitte.” Oh, that’s got Heinzi chuckling good and proper. “Mein Geld ist nicht hier gut?” Now he’s roaring. All smirks and smiles despite his reply in the negative. Won’t even take a 10% tip after the first too high bid. He’s perfectly satisfied with his set rate, danke.
Heinzi isn’t as old as Vienna, not as old as the building whose ground floor his eponymous pub inhabits. But he’s as vital to Wien as its age. An old man, just as integrally Viennese as any stunning building smiling at you as you ride ‘round the Ringstraße.
It’s people like Heinzi, the shopkeepers, the tavern owners, the barkeeps that preserve this once imperial city.
Mumbling expressions in Dialekt, giving warm, knowing greetings to locals, jesting and joking with tourists who stumble in on purpose with the uncertain steps of an accidental turn. Vienna would be a museum without these hosts. A beautiful museum at that, but what is beauty without life without feeling invited to take it in. Without the Heinzis of Vienna we’d have a visual edition of if a tree falls in the woods. I think we know the answer.
Anyway, hadn’t seen old Heinzi in a couple years. Hadn’t strolled the Kaiserlich Straßen seit 2022. Auf Wiedersehen, and then wieder came. Once more in Austria’s capital. Not alone, not now as then.
An older Typ like Heinzi, you wonder if he might retire, might sell, might pass on. Ah, but as we make the approach, his tavern’s sign can be spotted all lit up. Lights on beneath bring relief too. No plans to go in, just wanted to know it’s still there, confirm he’s still hammering away.
No schnitzel tenderizing to be heard because Heinzi is busy behind the bar. Ein Bier vom Fass? Vielleicht er kocht einen Kaffee. Whatever he’s doing/pouring, he’s there, he’s still holding court, still in command.
I’m busy talking about Cafe Jelinek, pointing out my favorite seating area. “Wrote a lot there, edited a novel too, not yours, a different one.” Fingers point beyond but eyes are on Heinzi.
When you’re in a city for a while you feel a part of it, feel it in yourself. You can take things from there with you but you wonder if you leave anything behind? You see Heinzi working away as though not a day has come and gone. Realize the world keeps on turning, never stops, not even for you. Your absence doesn’t shut down life where you once lived when you take to living elsewhere.
Seeing that little old Mann in there I feel I’ve spotted a scene preserved in amber. It could have been 20 not 2 years since last I’d seen it. Seeing him under the yellowish light through the door at a distance, I’m watching a movie. Same as ever, a replay, I could tell you which scene comes next.
Life has a way of pressing on, going through its motions even as you experience things anew. Not everything changes with time, most things don’t, maybe nothing really does, and that’s perfectly alright.
You need to be able to discover, to explore, to grow. Need something unmovable to return to. The world, not just Vienna, needs Heinzis. Needs the consistent types who hold down the fort while the itinerant wander. Oh, have I wandered, ich wandere sehr gern. Ah, but as we walk one wonders if wandering days are nearing their end.
Not just yet. Tour goes on. Schönes altes Wien, beautiful as ever is this old city. Hard at work Heinzi fades into the distance with each scraping step up we take up the hill toward the shopping street.
Time to move on. Auf Wiedersehen til wieder comes again. When it does I hope Heinzi will be there, hammering away at a Schnitzel that’s as Wienerisch as the man who’s making it.
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