Something that Vienna does that
you’d never see in America is ball season.
Balls for everything. They’re the
big, expensive parties that you’ve only dreamed of – a live band is playing
waltzes or jazz, everyone dressed to the nines swirling around on an open dance
floor, chandeliers lit and everything glowing with in the colors of class and
aristocracy. It’s fairytale-esque.
When I was planning on going to
Vienna and looking at what the city had to offer, ball season was one of the
things I just couldn’t pass up. What
girl doesn’t want a chance to feel like a princess?
Going to a ball is a major
social event here. Highschoolers take
dance lessons for at least two years to learn how to tango, rhumba,
cha-cha-cha, foxtrot, and waltz. The
Viennese waltz is essential with its one-two-three beat and accompanying step. It’s not straight one-two-three,
however. The ‘um – pah – pah’ feel is
delayed a bit in a way that I can only comprehend as syncopated but here it is
expected.
So I found myself at the
Rotcreutzball (Red Cross Ball) in a thrifted black gown from Humana. I’d been taking a semester of dance courses
from Tanzschule Elmeyer and wanted to try my hand, as well as see what the fuss
was all about. Late in the evening, a
group of friends and I (some studying in Italy and visiting for the weekend)
boarded the U-Bahn to get to the Rathaus.
The Rathaus at night.
If the neo-gothic façade of the
Rathaus glows intimidatingly huge from the street, the interior is only the
next step. Crystalline chandeliers hung
everywhere from under the vaulted ceilings.
Red carpets lined the many stairways leading up to the main
ballroom. Paintings and tapestries hung
from the walls. Though it was only built
in the late 1800’s, the Rathaus, situated like a platter of cake on the Ringstβe
is a sight to behold.
I’ve heard that visitors to
Vienna will most likely remember the Ringstraβe better than the historic (and
older) buildings that are actually inside of the first district. It circles the area as a wide boulevard,
where a massive wall used to stand protecting Vienna. In the 1840s it became an obstacle, working
against its protective purpose as a fortification for rebels. Thus, Emperor Franz Joseph commissioned the
wall’s demise, replacing it with some of the most iconic buildings of Vienna
today. Each was built in a different architectural
style to match the purpose of the building – the university is in a
neo-renaissance style to signify the ideals of the enlightenment, and the parliament
is in a neo-attic style to symbolize the Democracy of ancient Athens.
This is the kind of history you
walk into when you step into any of the Ringstraβe buildings, the Rathaus
included. A re-building of sorts – the purpose
of this construction at the time was to make a place where both the aristocracy
and the bourgeoisie could mingle in places of common interest. Attending a ball for the first time, I felt
this same kind of connect.
Though my dress was thrifted and
a little out-dated, I fell right into the middle with denizens of the
Rotcreutzball. Everyone looked
elegant. Ladies in their floor-length
gowns, sweeping across the hall with a glass of wine in their hands and men in
their tuxedos gracefully leading the ladies around to the tune of a Strauss waltz – everyone was on the same level regardless of the type of ticket that
was purchased.
Interior.
My friends and I had student
tickets; the cheapest you could find and at a steal for 35 euro. This just means getting in but not having a
place to stand. Though the place was
pretty full when we arrived, it cleared out around midnight and we had no
problem copping a table to sit and relax our feet.
I can’t express how weirdly in
and out of place I felt at the same time.
I’ve never done this before. My
attempts to waltz were passable, but not amazing, and even less-so compared to
the other dancers spinning around me. In
the States, a ball such as this would be reserved to the upper- upper- class,
and would be relatively unheard of. When’s
the last time an American needed to buy a floor-length gown?
I was dressed to code, had the
proper dance shoes, even the right pair of earrings and hairstyle to fit
in. But because I was so unaccustomed to
the idea of a ball, and one that I could attend, I spent most of the evening
staring at the other dancers in awe.
The dancers. These couples were incredible to watch.
It was just like you always hear good dancing is - it's
like watching them float on air.
Like most parties, however,
everything gets leveled out when the attendees have had enough to drink. Once the wine was freely flowing around the
patrons, I saw a couple scenes that were no different from what you would
experience at a regular bar. A man
bought a massive pastry just because it was funny, everyone wanted to take
pictures with a midget, and a couple was making out in a shady corner of the
carpeted staircase. I guess the only
real difference was the presumed atmosphere that is presented when you first
step in.
Like I said, I did waltz. My small training prepared me just enough not
to fall down and to just follow whoever was leading me. Teaching a lady to follow… I compare it to
breaking in a horse, but that’s another matter entirely. I also attempted a polka, which sent me
hopping across the dance floor, gritting my teeth, holding on for dear life to
the arms of the man that had asked me to dance.
I’m learning.
The experience was nothing like
the clubbing experience I’ve had in Vienna.
At a ball, almost everyone can dance gracefully with a partner to almost
any genre of ‘classical’ music. The
night after, I went to a club called Praterdome. The Viennese tend to have a good sense of
class, but there it’s a little bit different atmosphere. Neon lights, strobes, and lasers replace
chandeliers, and a deep bass that vibrates bones takes the place of an
orchestra. Different kind of fun.
Technically, ball season in
Vienna doesn’t start until January, but now I know a bit more about what to
expect. Maybe by then I’ll even have
improved my dancing.