Two Days in Vienna

Well the Intern has hit the big time. Late last night she trundled back from Luton Airport after a whirlwind 24 hours in Vienna – Austria’s capital city – having just been taken on her very first press trip. Yay, yay!

As travel assistant, I have gone to great lengths to make myself the go-between for all the PR peeps. When screening my editor’s calls, I make sure people have my email as first point of contact. But this isn’t as devious as it may sound… having been so busy with our January travel supplement, Ed and depEd haven’t been answering their calls anyway, and at least if I get the emails I’ll make sure they hear about the important ones. Last week I even managed to schmooze the owners of a five-star safari lodge in Tanzania with the hopes that my winning smile could induce a press trip invite early next year. But it was only on Friday that I received confirmation of my invite to the opening night at The Ring in Vienna.

You have to love London’s location, that you can simply jet off to another country for a day, a night or a weekend. Vienna is only a two-hour flight, and after meeting with my fellow press members, and our two PR agents (ScarlettPR: www.scarlettpr.co.uk/), we boarded our flights and off we went.

Arriving in Vienna in the early afternoon we were picked up at the airport by the hotel car. Vienna as a city is lovely. Colder than London – which I learnt too late so ended up freezing when on our guided tour on Wednesday – but blessed with gorgeous old buildings from the baroque period, and more than 800 public gardens.

At 6pm on Tuesday we were ushered out of the hotel, and taken across the road to their sister hotel, The Grand (http://www.jjwhotels.com/en/grandhotelwien/). Over 135 years old, The Grand is historically luxurious, with architecture that celebrates the age of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Champagne, wine and canapés to start, we were then rushed back to The Ring at 7.30pm to wait for the big opening show.

Think lights, camera, action! The hotel’s white-stucco façade was lit with blue lights and giant speakers blared out the sounds of helicopters and police sirens – apparently they tried to hire an actual helicopter to drop off members of the police special squad, but aviation laws didn’t permit the level of low-flying required. Spot lights swirled across the six storeys, as we waited for something to happen (mulled wine in freezing hands!). Finally, two men in burglar-black abseiled down the building only to be captured by two members of the Viennese special police squad, who gallantly took back the key to the hotel and handed it to the owner, Sheikh Mohamed Bin Issa Al Jaber. It was only then, that we were let back in.

The night progressed full of Eastern European canapé delights (not to the taste of all our members, but loved by yours truly), and all de champagne, de vin und de bière you could drink! Festivities went on until the wee hours, apparently, but I was eager to take to my plush room to drown in the enormous pillows that lay scattered across my king-size bed!

The morning saw our group looking slightly worse-for-wear, as we indulged in a casual-luxury breakfast of pastries, bircher muesli and eggs any style (casual luxury being the hotel’s calling-card), and then set off for a tour of the city. The highlight was definitely the gothic cathedral Stephansdom where interior-refurbishments allowed us to take an elevator to the top of the cathedral's muraled-ceiling (see pics below). Our guide, a slightly feisty Viennese lady in her fifties, took to the only male of our troop, so their flirting (her giggling) definitely added to the entertainment factor, and kept me slightly warmer in the sub-8 degrees Celsius temperatures! No gloves. No scarf. I was delighted when lunchtime came around and we were once again off to another five-star establishment for some local delights. I relished the chance for real strudel once more (having missed my grandmother and aunts while I have been gone), and then we were off again, via the hotel car to Vienna’s International Airport. Talk about jet-setting!

Notes on the party...

Best bit Telling the local TV personality to tuck in her designer tag, her clothes on loan, of course...

Bit of a downer Waiting 20 minutes to have our tarot cards read in the sauna-come-séance-room only to find out our reader spoke no English!