Aida Café Vienna Reviews
Pastries and Pink Bobby Socks May 23, 2010
God, this place is a garish, pink nightmare! I must've had one too many pints of beer last night because the bright, feminine colour which decorates everything from the menus to the wicker chairs to the awnings at Aida Café, is really doing my head in. It's 9:30 AM and I'm supposed to meet my travel group across the street at the Opera House in about an hour.
My American friend, Kristi, recommended this coffeehouse chain to me. Come to think of it, I think she actually made me promise that I would visit one. Now faced with a massive array of puff pastries, cakes, strudels, tortes, and chocolates on display behind the counter, I'm at a loss when the woman asks me what I'd like to order. There's enough sugar in here to make Willy Wonka himself blush. Personally, I don't have much of a sweet tooth, and I can't for the life of me remember what Kristi said I should get, so I shrug and point to the most stereotypical-looking pastry in the case--a very flaky item loaded with whipped cream, a custard filling, and dusted with icing sugar. I ask for a coffee to go along with my morning dessert, pay for for everything, and I'm told that they'll bring my order to my table. I point towards the patio and the woman nods.
I sit down at an empty table outside and a few minutes later a cute, young waitress appears carrying my coffee and sugar delicacy. She has pale blond hair tied in a ponytail, creamy arms and calves with a touch of thigh showing, bright blue eyes, and is wearing a vintage diner-style pink uniform. I glance down and notice her matching pink bobby socks and white sandals. %iCripes, she looks like a yummy, edible pastry herself!%i I'm left speechless as she sets down the trays. It's a strange revelation to have so early on a Sunday morning that I might have a fetish for pastel bobby socks... The good people of the world are in church right now and here I am like a weirdo comparing a young girl to a frosted confection. Initially I want to ask to take a photo of her, but then become shy at the thought.
I place a forkful of the cream-leaden pastry in my mouth. Woah, it's extremely sweet! ...And rich! I'm glad that a glass of water was delivered with my coffee, because I'm definitely going to need it to wash this down. As I eat, my eyes shift back and forth between my sumptuous dessert and the waitress as she flits gracefully around the different patio tables. This is getting to be too much and I feel like the Big Bad Wolf eyeing up Red Riding Hood--%i"Big teeth? All the better to eat you with, my dear..."%i I must be quite the sight right now--a tall, hungover, old Canadian punk rocker with black spiky hair sitting in a glossy pink chair eating a giant, fancy puff pastry with whipped cream? Ridiculous! I'd better leave now while I still have at least a shred of dignity and get to my meeting spot early before I go completely mental.
I step inside Aida's again for a moment to take a second look at all the items inside the glass display cabinet. There aren't any cookies. I'd told Kristi that I'd bring her some cookies from here when we meet up in a few days in Poland. I decide that a cake or strudel wouldn't last 3 days stuffed in a backpack and leave the pink restaurant empty-handed, with a massive caffeine/sugar buzz, and my tail between my legs. ...Bad wolf!
Part of the Vienna to Krakow (2010) travel blog
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