Vienna

The aisle is crowded, congested. Eyes caught behind straight brown locks: deep, piercing. Features unlike the departing locals, he could be Austrian. Glances stolen in broad daylight right up to the gates.


Third time in Vienna. Nothing has changed. Snow here's probably a first, for me that is. The scaffolding of the Hofburg Palace from two years ago has been removed. The Christmas market before the Rathaus from a year ago is just as busy.


We must've waited for at least an hour on the coach for the second team, Neuss, to turn up at the Sudbahnhof, which they did, eventually: decked in lighted Santa hats and clearly pissed from mulled wine judging from their loud singing of foreign songs. We tried to rival them and I was quite impressed by our own rendition of Botafogo's 'Voices'.



Second time at the Viennesse military barracks. Nothing has changed. Communal showers still the same and the prospect of pulling just as far. This time, sharing a whole dorm with coach and close friends. Pictionary becomes our staple game (other than the dreaded 'Game') whilst noises during the night go unnoticed.