May 29, 2010 by Scene of the Crime
We continue with personal reminiscences of Cold War Vienna:
Vienna was my Paris. From the late 1960s through the 1980s I made it my home, my workshop, my personal museum. I became a writer there coasting on the strong dollar: a krügel, or pint of beer was a
quarter; dinner, a schnitzel so big it hung over the sides of a large
porcelain plate, was a couple of bucks; rent a room for thirty dollars, a
studio apartment for sixty. The Vienna Woods was a tram ride away,
I was, in short, an elective ex-pat.
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