After all the animal-filled excitement this Saturday and a gloriously good night's sleep that followed, we decided to keep our Sunday lazy; the girls slept in and we lingered over our french toast until deciding to take a walk. We meandered down past the eerily deserted stalls of the Naschmarkt to a park we hadn't yet visited. The morning was beautiful--cool enough, at first, for sweaters and soon warm enough to pull off the layers and saok up the sun. By now, the girls have got their playground act down pat--they surveyed the lay of the land before hitting the sand box. (I've gotten over my horror at finding sand in their every bodily crevice and have learned to just let them go to town now.) In between scooping and dumping sand, climbing ladders and pumping on the swings, they inhaled some peanut butter and jelly..John and I on the other hand mostly sat in the sweet sunshine nasching on olives, cheese and salami. It was a perfect morning. 
Until the tantrums set in.
All too soon, Bailey was sprinkling sand in her hair and becoming increasingly irrational. Audrey lost it when I told her she couldn't put the COAT she had picked out that morning back on and refused to listen to my subsequent lecture about heat stroke. Nap time was upon us. And after getting the girls settled down, it was Mama's turn to relax...just in a much different setting.
I was headed to the second coffee house on my list: Cafe Leopold Hawelka, which is located in the first district, not too far from my last week's adventure, The Demel. Residing in the same district is where the similarities between these two coffee houses end; what Cafe Hawelka lacks in grandeur and decades of history, it more than makes up for with old school charm. What initially intrigued me about this small cafe was it's reputation for being a hip hang-out for up-and-coming writers and artists during the 60's and 70's, but as I looked further into it's history, I was absolutely charmed. Cafe Hawelka is, at it's heart, a family owned and operated business. It was opened by Leopold Hawelka in 1939 and closed as World War II broke out, only to be reopened in 1945. Leopold was known to be seen sitting in the doorway, greeting guests until his death in 2011. I also already knew I dig their coffee beans; I've been brewing them in my french press since I unwittingly picked some up on our first visit to the Naschmarkt. The Josephine blend that I so flippantly purchased was named for Leopold's wife, who along with managing the cafe, also happened to bake the cafe's house cakes. Since her death in 2005, her son has taken over the duty, so you can see how my heart was turned towards this seemingly family-run 'small business'.
In the same route I took to the Demel last week, I took the train to Stephansplatz, nodded to my old favorite cathedral and waltzed around the corner to join the surging masses of tourists. Instead of following the tide down the massive pedestrian street, however, I hooked a corner down a side street, full of restaurants and cafes with tables spilling out into the walkway. Here, Cafe Hawelka sits, unprepossessingly, beckoning one to come sit at it's shaded tables or join the crowd in it's dark interior. I know this is somewhere I will be visiting again, so I took advantage of the glorious weather, spotted a free table and plopped down next to a potted tree, where I also attempted to look like one. Don't mind me, I'm just here to bemusedly observe your silly human interactions. I was soon greeted by an effusively polite man in a tuxedo, Herr Ober, as they are addressed here, was to be my server. He brought me a melange and two pieces of house cake toot-sweet and I settled back into my role of pseudo-tree. 
Soon, however, I was unavoidably distracted by what was on my plate--this totally unremarkable-looking house cake tasted like something my Grandmother would make: a little crispy on the outside, crumbly on the inside and littered with sweet cherries. Top that off with some powdered sugar and I was transported back home, across the ocean to my grandparents house; to nights spent playing cards and getting my rump kicked in a competitive game of scrabble. Perhaps that is why Cafe Hawelka has absolutely charmed me to the core; and that's with only managing a peek inside. I'm sold. I spent the rest of my time in sweet solitude, savoring an entire cup of coffee before it grew cold and basking in the warmth of good memories as I savored my crumbly cake. A feeling of contentment washed over me and I rode on that high on a walk through downtown Vienna, past palaces and exquisite gardens that have now become familiar to me.
When I got home, I was just in time to wake up my little Bear; when she's not screaming, she's one of the sweetest kids around. I am overwhelmed by my blessings; by what has transpired to bring me here and also by the clarity of mind that comes from these little solo jots around town. Life here is not all roses; we still have tantrums and bickering and bumbling confusion, but the blessings we have been given grossly outweigh any of the difficulties. God is so very good. And it's important to remember that we are not here to enjoy ourselves (although we seem to be managing just fine in that department). Ultimately, God is the one who has sent us here and I'd appreciate any prayers you could send our way that we would be open to doing whatever it is He has planned for us, to see these amazing sights as His creations and the time He gives me to find peace as a gift from heaven.
Now, I just wish you were here. Work on that, will ya?
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