us. We’ve caught our second wind now, and
bop from the bar to dump our jackets on a pair
of flip-up cinema seats. Pastel projections swirl
around the walls where a group of students
punch the air. The DJ flicks on an old favourite
by The Shapeshifters and starts gyrating like
nobody’s watching.
From the vaulted ceiling, hundreds of
pendants dangle over us like icicles. Except
they’re not icicles, they’re... elongated, penis-
shaped stockings? Weighed down with two
bulbous walnuts? Stefan points up, giggling.
“Are those condoms? Stuffed with garlic?” Who
knows for sure.
Good, clean fun
Walking back to my hotel past a symphony
of street cleaners, I think about the easy flow
of evenings here. Vienna’s nightlife isn’t a
competitive sport. Stefan has discouraged
me from wearing my sequin trousers, for
example, as being too ostentatious. Vienna’s
nightlife is about a mutual love of music
and camaraderie. There’s nary a queue. No
try-hard spandex or nipple clamps (though
I’m told at SMart you can watch men perform
naughty acts in a back “playroom”).
And decent nightlife is not something
you have to seek out. On my third evening in
town, Stefan and I meet for a hangover cure
at Spelunke, which in German translates as
‘dive-bar’, though it’s nothing of the sort,
offering Wagyu beeurgers and sweet potato
fries to guests on pristine leather banquettes.
Spelunke sits front-and-centre on the Danube
Canal, where an entertainment renaissance
began years ago. Towpaths flank the waterway
all the way north to the Danube River, so we
scuttle down for a stroll. Our steps echo as we
pass beneath bridges that connect the luxury
hotels to our left with the old Jewish quarter
on our right. Every now and then, dance beats
pump out from a venue splashed with graffiti,
or some riverside bar where famed electro
producers Kruder & Dorfmeister used to spin.
Climbing back up to street level, we head
through a tiny door marked ‘Zwe’, entering
a cave-like space. Young jazz nuts are
rocking their heads like ravers while a band
in the corner bashes out frenzied Chick Corea-
style fusion. I hone in on the piano, which
is missing its front casing to expose the
hammers, and we push on through to the
bar. In many other serious jazz clubs, we’d
have been shushed out by now, but the owner
himself waves us in and takes our wine order.
“Cash only,” he says. I offer to go out to find
an ATM, and before I know it the owner isPiano man
Billy Joel wrote‘Vienna’ after atrip to the city to
visit his father,who’d abandoned
the family. It wasoriginally a B-side,
but has becomeJoel’s most populartrack on SpotifyFrom left: Skateboarders enjoy the
terrace of the Albertina Museum, next
to the Vienna State Opera building;
busy bars and restaurants along the
Danube Canal