Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Go Fug Yourself!

Melissa is here for a few days from Paris so we went to the St Marx cemetery to see the spot where Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart probably isn’t buried. (Steph will know more about this).

There is a gravestone where he may or may not be buried – but it doesn’t matter much. The fact that he was is what is important and we don’t need an actual plot to remind ourselves – certainly not in Wien anyway where he lived in 13 different houses.

We also visited the Federal Pathologic-Anatomical Museum where there are some outstanding examples of preserved and diseased parts of the anatomies of long deceased persons – together with any number of terrifying plastic replicas of bits and pieces of people in various states of disrepair.

We scuttled through most exhibits fairly quickly as neither of is much good at looking at this sort of stuff. Trust me when I tell you that you do not want to get ANYTHING that any of these people had. But it was excellent value at €2 per person.

Then we went with Rozalin to Dots Experimental Sushi where we had some truly sensational Sushi – or was it Maki - the likes of which I have not encountered before. Quite an extraordinary event. It is apparently place where cool and hip people go but they made an exception for me as long as I promised to sit in the corner and remain inconspicuous.

When Cate was making her views known to the staff at the Square Hotel in Copenhagen –about the noise, smoke and other things – she said to them that incidents like this would cost them business. The child looked up from slurping her Alphabet Soup and said ‘How?’.

So this is the review I posted on Trip Advisor

"The first night was fine. On night two the entire Aarhus Death Metal Football Club checked in to the room next door, opened their doors to the balconies and the corridor and played music so loud it made my ears water. It was a non-smoking floor but they all smoked, shouted, sang, drank beer and (probably) urinated into Radhuspladsen. The child on the counter said 'there is nothing I can do' but stopped sharpening her crayons long enough to move us to another room which was fine - but the air conditioning didn't work so we had to open the door and at 5:00 AM on Sunday morning a gigantic roaring noise started outside our window. This was apparently a window cleaning machine. Then some rats died under the floor in our bathroom. This was apparently all our fault because the hotel cannot control the way its guests behave, they have to clean the windows sometime (5:00 AM on Sunday?) and rats have to die somewhere - what do you think they just vaporise into space? I have encountered less helpful hotel staff somewhere in the last 30 years but just can't think when..... give me a minute....OK I will get back to you. We said to the child on the front desk - you will lose guests over this. She said 'Oh Yeah - How? THIS post is how!”

Not that we are vindictive – but when you pay a bunch of money and stay at somewhere that advertises itself as a five star hotel you expect a little TLC. We got none.

You have probably seen Go Fug Yourself. It has been one of my favourites for years. The clothing is often hilarious, the photos are excellent and the comments are clever – and funny.


  1. Ha, maybe you should start reviewing blogs too! I'll send mine to you.

    BTW, I just moved us from one hotel in downtown Oakland (gasp) to another so I can empathize with all the reasons one doesn't want to stay in a ratbait establishment.

  2. Mozart's remains are literally all over the place at St. Marx. One of Emperor Joseph's reforms was to simplify burials. People of Mozart's station in society, that is, the educated working class, were buried in common graves with five or six other people. It wasn't a pauper's grave at all, but considered 3rd class. Then, every seven years the fields were tilled to rotate everything and make room for more graves.

    Later, actual single burials became the standard for anyone who could afford to be buried there. But in Mozart's time, St. Marx was brand new and nothing but a furrowed field.

    If you want to feel Mozart's presence in Vienna, sit at the window table to the left of the entrance at Cafe Frauenhuber and look down the street at the house he died in. That was his local cafe during the last months of his life. He spent a lot of time there, and performed in the upstairs salon.