I unexpectedly found myself with a Saturday afternoon off, recently, and I ended up taking pictures at my favorite fairground: the Prater. I wandered around, exploring and otherwise acting like an adolescent photographer. Then I came across this old ride, the Toboggan. It's only just this month been condemned, though it's apparently been closed and rotting for a long time. I guess people used to go up to the top of that corkscrew-shaped chute and somehow tumble down. As I stood there staring, though, I was more struck by the little shack at the foot of the ride. Maybe that's where the owner of this crazy old amusement spent most of his days. It's a room that's about ten feet square. There's still some sad little curtains and an empty beer stein on the window sill.
Living in Vienna is like this: turn one corner and you slip back a century.
3 comments:
What kind of ride was that anyway? It looks very dangerous in your photo. I've been trying to contact you to wish you a belated birthday and ask you about the whereabouts of Ganz, but none of your e-mail addresses seem to work anymore. Oh yeah, and I lost your phone number to boot. Please drop me a line.
-Steve
Straddling the line (one foot in this century, the other in the past) is part of the expat lure. I remember sitting in Threadgills in Austin thinking "Wow, Janis Joplin used to play here back in the early 60's... this place is effing historic!"
Now I drive by the bombed-out remains of an 800 year old church and have to laugh at what used to be my (extremely)limited scope.
RE: that ride--yeah, right, it looks insane. More like a trip down the gullet of an Alien.
RE: Austin. I know what you mean. Still....what I wouldn't for one night at Threadgills, one chicken fried steak and eight Lone Stars.
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