I don’t really belong here, dressed in shorts, a wet raincoat, and with my pack on the floor by the table.
This place is a bit too classy for my type, with the gentlemen servers wearing tuxedos, black ties, and sporting name tags with Herr _______ (no first names at this cafe).
I can see, however, that most of the clientele are casually dressed, which puts me at ease.
Near the entrance, clipped into wooden hangers are a number of international newspapers – Le Monde, Salzburger Nachrichten, Bild, Frankfurter Allgemeine, Die Presse, Der Standard, and, of course, the New York Times.
I sit in a large red-velour chair and order a latte and a piece of apple strudel.
I’m delighted that napkins arrive with my coffee.
The napkins have the Cafe Museum name and logo, as well as the words “Ort der Inspiration” – a place of inspiration.
An advertisement to purchase tickets to the Cafe Museum’s “Exklusive Kaffeehaus-Lesung”, with Gerhard Loibelsberger’s “Wiener Zucherl” sits on my table – a reading from Loibelsberger’s new book.
A mature, well-dressed couple at the next table is reading German newspapers, but they are speaking English, something about politics.
A series of large silver balls hangs from the ceiling, each by three ropes.
In one wall niche is the bust of a man I don’t recognize but who must be important.
In another wall niche is a very old painting of a man with a mustache holding a tablet.
I don’t know who that is either, but he also looks important.
The menu advertises a hot chocolate option called “Mozart Schokolade” as well as a chocolate mousse dessert option called “Mozarttorte”.
And let us not forget the popular Mozart Kaffee.
My dining experience is rather expensive, but I’m enjoying my indulgence.
Herr _______ chats with me while I pay my bill.
I ask him about his day and he says he didn’t sleep well last night, which happens often.
But, he adds, if that is his only problem, he has a good life.
