In Vienna – and it's still sweltering hot

Thursday 9th August: I probably woke up in the night, but again I remained in bed and got up around 0600hrs. I had to pack and check out of the Park Inn by Radisson and have breakfast, not necessarily in that order, and then my aim, after yesterday, was to avoid the heat. It's virtually impossible to keep out of the sun, but I'll do my best.

At Linz station I had another pastry...

After checking out, I left my suitcase at the hotel and headed off in search of a tram to a place called Plus City; it's a huge shopping mall in a place called Leonding on the outskirts of Linz. I needed to board tram 3 or 4, and number 4 arrived. I had a business appointment close to the mall, which culminated in lunch at L'Osteria back at Plus City. As I write this, coincidentally, I am sitting in L'Osteria in Vienna, close to the fairground. Between my lunch at Plus City and now I've travelled by train from Linz to Vienna. First I took a tram from Plus City to Linz, then, after a brief walk back to the hotel to retrieve my suitcase and freshly dry-cleaned shirts, three of them, I re-packed my suitcase to accommodate the shirts and then headed for the tram again. The tram took me to the hauptbahnhof (railway station) and there I purchased a ticket to Vienna. I was scheduled to ride the 1616hrs, which, uncharacteristically for Austria, was delayed, but only by 15 minutes.

It doesn't matter where in the world I go, there's no escaping people these days; they're everywhere and they're always on trains, so the chance of a seat alone was out of the question and it was very hot, but the train was air-conditioned so all was well. I considered upgrading to first class but in the end I contented myself with the usual pastime of reading the news on my mobile phone, reading my book –Willy Vlautin's latest, Don't Skip Out on Me – and looking out of the window at the passing scenery. I was sharing a table with an Indian gentleman and his wife. He was doing something on a Lenovo lap top, she was just sitting there looking out of the window, like I was. It was a pleasant enough journey and now I'm in Vienna. But once I'd arrived at the main station I tried (successfully) to remember how to get to my favourite hotel, which is Motel One, just outside of Messe Prater metro station; and no, that's not why it's called, in fact it isn't called Metro One, it's called Motel One, I'm losing my marbles because it's hot and sweaty everywhere – 35 degrees today, so my shirt is sticking to my back, you know what I'm saying.

Arriving at Vienna Hauptbahnhof, Wednesday 9 August 2018

I took the U1 line to Praterstern and changed on to the U2 line for one stop to Messe Prater. Then it was a case of remembering whether to take the Messe or Prater exit. I correctly chose the latter and within minutes I was checked in and making my way to room 103 on the first floor.

A new (and scary) ride at the fairground: I watched but never bought a ticket...

As far as I can tell, based on three previous stays at Motel One Messe Prater, all the rooms are identical and I always have a few niggly problems. When I first stayed here in June last year – arguably my best ever business trip thanks to a bike, good weather and a generally pleasant vibe – I had great difficulty finding the switch to the bedside lamps, which were poised over the pillows of the bed. At one stage, I considered dismantling the lights, but in the end I resorted to calling the girl on reception, who came to my room and pointed out the switches. I felt extremely stupid. I mean, I could have simply pulled the keycard from the socket by the door and plunged the room into total darkness, but that would have meant losing control and I don't like losing control at the best of times. I panic sometimes when taking off a jumper and it gets stuck with me still inside it, so being in a dark room without the means to turn on the bedside lamp was out of the question.

I know how he feels...

On my second visit last December, I found the desk was too far away from the power sockets on the other side of the room and had to re-arrange the furniture accordingly. This must have happened on my first visit too, but I can't remember. It's certainly happened this time round, on my third visit, as I've just re-arranged things to make it possible to use my lap top on the desk. In fact, talking of my third visit, this visit,  I was a little miffed that the girl on the front desk didn't provide me with the username and password for the WiFi. There are no phones in the rooms, so you have to call the hotel's main number to reach the reception desk using your mobile phone (the general assumption is that everybody has a mobile phone these days). Or, of course, go downstairs and ask for the username and password in person, which is what I did. Mildly inconvenient? Of course it was. Finally, my favourite part of the Motel One experience – the tropical fish screensaver on the wall-mounted television – wasn't quite right. The picture and the captivating music, which is playing as I write this, keeps breaking up, turning what was a pleasant dream, the whole basis of my love for this particular Motel One, into a kind of mild nightmare; it's as if the horrors of life are always there, in the shadows, hiding under the surface, like a menacing shark below thin ice, the thin membrane of happiness we're all led to believe is the mainstay of our short lives when, in reality, it's little more than false hopes masquerading as happy permanence in an otherwise uncertain world. But dreams are there to be broken, just like the rules, and for that reason, never try to recreate past happiness and never try to meet your heroes because all that happens is you break through the ice and see everything for what it is – and it's not good. The key to survival is to keep dreaming.

Another new attraction at the fairground...

I took a walk through the fairground, checking out a scary new ride and saying no, never, not in a million years. I like walking through fairgrounds, but I'm not keen on the rides, apart from the tame ones, like the Dodgems. I made my way to L'Osteria – my fourth visit in under a year, possibly even my fifth as I might have come here for lunch and dinner on a previous trip, I can't remember. This is, however, my second visit in one day, having already had lunch at L'Osteria in Plus City, Leonding, where I had a wonderful (and very large) pizza. I didn't fancy another huge pizza so I opted for mushroom risotto, a Crostino and two small bottles of still mineral water. Now I must get the check, pay up and head back through the fairground, past all the colourful but scary rides to Motel One and hopefully a good night's sleep.

When I got back I switched on the television and tried to watch a movie featuring Sylvester Stallone, Sharon Stone and James Woods, not sure what it was called, but it was pretty good, even dubbed over in German. But I got bored, switched it off and went to sleep.

The starkness of a Motel One corridor...

And now it's Friday morning. I fly back today at 1540hrs. I need to check out of here at noon and then make my way to the airport and my flight home to the UK.

Outside of my hotel room the sun is shining and I can hear the sound of children playing in a nearby school playground. That strange, haunting music and the tropical fish are just over my left shoulder and I'm sitting at the desk, which I moved from it's original position to the wall next to the bed. I can also hear distant screams from the fairground.

Time to sign off and get on with the business of getting home.

In Vienna...Day Two

Is cycling a subversive activity? Some say it is and I can't really figure out why, unless freedom is subversive. Actually, come to think of it, freedom probably is subversive; there's nothing the establishment hates more that true freedom. Freedom of expression, democracy, it's all dangerous stuff as the UK discovered when Cameron gave the populus an in-out referendum on Europe. But let's not bring the European Union into this, although there are some political commentators who would argue that the least democratic organisation in existence is the EU. But as I say, let's not go there, this is all about cycling.

Still in my conference clothes, but back on the bike

I can buy into the subversive nature of cycling and it makes it all the more attractive. This evening, when my work was done at the conference, it felt liberating just to know that outside, padlocked to a coiled piece of metal, was my bike. Well, not my bike, but the bike I'd hired from the hotel for just 12 Euros. I wasn't reliant upon a taxi or a bus or a tube, I had my own transportation system and that, my friends, is a little subversive. I can (and did) speed off into the city without a care in the world, I could do what the hell I wanted, go wherever the fancy took me and not pay a penny to the man for the privilege. I was my own boss.

So what did I do? First I decided to explore the immediate location surrounding the Austria Center. There were some nice flats there, a pedestrianised area and a few weird sculptures that I'd never have found had I jumped on the underground. How boring would life have been had I done that? I'd have ended up in my hotel room with nothing to do but reach for the Skipper's Tablecloth. Instead, I was out and about and checking stuff out, like Donau Park. I rode in all directions through the park, following roads to the very end and then turning back and following other roads into different areas of the park and then I sped over the Danube and hung a right when I reached the far bank. I rode for what seemed like miles along a cycle track that was effectively running parallel with the river but not along the bank, and then I turned left somewhere, I can't recall exactly where, and kept on riding, eventually finding Handelskai railway station where I found a couple of fresh fruit and vegetable stalls that were still bustling as the time approached 1800hrs.

Strange sculptures near the Austria Center...

After a while I began to lose track of exactly where I was; the cycle track ran out and I found myself on the road with traffic, so I doubled back and tried to retrace the route I'd been taking. Soon I found myself at the bridge where I turned right and then crossed the road and explored other roads that eventually led me to Max Winter Platz where I spied a couple of bars. I considered stopping for a beer and something to eat, but for some reason I didn't as they looked a bit basic and I didn't have any cash. Despite cycling being a subversive activity that enabled me to 'stick it to the man' I still needed somewhere that accepted Mastercard. Within minutes I was close to the entrance of the fairground and decided to ride through it, listening to the screams of those brave (or stupid) enough to tackle the Black Mamba and other dangerous, frightening-looking rides. I watched from the relative safety of the bike as people were being flung this way and that and seemingly enjoying every minute of it.

Strange sculptures in Donau Park

I found L'Osteria, a pizza restaurant that was almost in the fairground, but in reality was just outside of it. I felt a little wary of the place because L'Osteria was dangerously close to Listeria, but I decided to chance my arm. It was, of course, absolutely fine and because I had been riding the bike for the best part of a couple of hours, I was in desperate need of a cold beer and something to eat. Fortunately, it was well past my dinner time so I stopped, padlocked the bike to a lamp post and sat alone, at a table for one, just me and a tea light, perusing the menu. I opted for one of the specials, Sedanini di manzo (pasta with pork) plus a large beer and later enjoyed Birnencrumble, another beer and a cappuccino. It was all perfect and cost a respectable 27.80 Euros.

Crossing the Danube...

I wasn't quite finished riding so after unlocking the bike and jumping back on I headed into the fairground again for another mooch around. Ultimately, I was tired and it was time to ride back to the hotel, return the bike and head to my room from where I now write this. What an amazing day and all thanks to the bike, which meant I was reliant on nothing or nobody but my own steam to get me wherever I wanted to go.

There were fresh fruit and vegetable markets here...

Back in my Motel One hotel room, the tropical fish are on the television screen behind me as I write this; and that weird ambient music is playing too. It's dark outside, but still warm, and while there is a strong temptation to go downstairs, order a glass of wine and sit in the cool grounds of the hotel, like I did at lunchtime (thanks again to having the bike) I've decided to get ready for bed and look forward to breakfast in the morning. I love Motel One!

High rise swings – put it this way, I wouldn't do it...

Fairground characters...

As seen in the movie, The Third Man – but what a boring ride!

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In Vienna...

I have nothing but praise for Motel One.

From the moment I arrived at the front desk, albeit with half a dozen people ahead of me, including a man who had been on my flight from London Gatwick and who I thought looked a bit like Richard Roundtree, until I Googled the Shaft megastar and realised that my fellow traveller looked nothing like him. So who did he resemble? A Bond villain? Not sure, so let's just leave it there.

The view from my hotel room window...

Motel One. It's fantastic. No complaints whatsoever apart from stuff that was entirely my fault. Okay, I'll explain: it was late, almost 11pm when I was finally given my keycard and found myself in the lift en route to my room on the third floor. I reached the room (it's one where you put your keycard in a slot in the wall as you enter and the lights come on (and go off when you take it out). Not a problem. Now, here's the best bit: there's a flatscreen television on the wall and I could hear this weird ambient music coming out of somewhere. On the screen are fish. Tropical fish. They looked so real I thought I had a fish tank in the room. I'm told that keeping tropical fish is bad luck. Fortunately, I don't keep tropical fish, not in my underpants or in a tank. I just don't believe in keeping animals captive, not that I admonish those who do keep tropical fish. I simply hope that they're not visited by any bad luck, that's all.

I hired this bike and rode to the convention centre, cheaper than a taxi!

So, tropical fish. Well, they're not real, just CGI of some sort and combined with the ambient music it's, well, amazing. I was tired, I was emotional too, seriously emotional, and the fish calmed things down for me. I sat on the edge of the bed and indulged the ambient music and the fish swimming about – as they're doing right this minute, behind me, unless they're only there when I turn around, who knows? No, they're there alright and I love them. Last night, when I finally got to sleep – alright, I'll explain in a minute – I thought I'd keep the fish 'alive' so to speak. I didn't want to turn off the television, but in the end the bright, halogen glow kept me awake so I reached for the remote and the fish (and the ambient music) were gone.

And here I am somewhere in Vienna with the bike...

But anyway, my 'issue' was nothing to do with the fish, it was to do with two spotlights over the bed, beaming down on the pillows where I desperately wanted to rest my weary head. Except that I couldn't. Try as I might to find the switch to turn the two spotlights off, I couldn't. The only way to do it, I thought, was to pull the keycard out of the wall socket and plunge the room into powerless darkness. But that simply wouldn't do because it meant that should I wish to turn on the light in the dead of night, I'd have to get up, fumble around in the darkness looking for the keycard and then fumble further to find the slot in the wall. So I started to get annoyed and my annoyance turned to mild anger, which was aggravated by the fact that Motel One hotel rooms don't have phones – the management must assume that everybody has a mobile these days and, of course, most people do. So I searched high and low for some way of turning off these two lights and even considered dismantling them or taking out the bulbs using a towel from the bathroom, I was that desperate, but no, not a good idea. I was despairing and in the end resorted to calling the front desk. "Silly question, but how do I turn off the spotlights beaming on to my pillows?" I managed to conceal my frustration, but despite the fact that the woman told me there was a black button underneath the light, I still couldn't find it. "I'll come up," she said, so I felt it was important to put on some trousers. Within what seemed like a few seconds there was a knock on the door and I was fully dressed.

She pointed to the switches and I rather sheepishly switched them off, feeling, it must be said, a little foolish. I thanked her, bade her farewell and got a decent night's sleep, without the ambient music or the fish, sadly.

Vienna's famous fairground is next to Motel One so I rode round taking pix

There was more good news on the Motel One front: the bathroom! It was amazing. The shower was one of those rain shower affairs and there was no messing around trying to get the thing to work properly – it worked immediately and I was treated to a wonderful, exhilarating shower. It was like standing under a waterfall and I could have stayed there all day, but I had to go to the convention centre on the other side of the Danube so I dried and dressed and went down for breakfast and it was perfect: muesli, fresh fruit, a vanilla yoghurt and a custard Danish, not forgetting a cup of Darjeeling. It all takes place close to the front desk and there's a proper breakfast area too or I could have sat in the bar area on a trendy seat, but give me a proper table any time.

I know how he feels...

Motel One is roughly a 35-40-minute walk to the convention centre, where I was headed. It's an interesting walk that took me across the Danube on what can only be described as a reconnaissance mission. I returned around 1000hrs and discovered that the hotel rented out bikes. Perfect! So I hired one, for 12 Euros, and rode off. Later, when my work was done I rode back to the hotel, took an early evening shower (I wouldn't normally but it was hot and I had a rain shower in the room) and then I headed out on the bike again, turning left out of the hotel, passing the famous fairground and riding the length of Ausstellungs and then Prater Strasse where, after riding around on the other side of the Donaukanal, which filters in to the Danube, I rode back on to Prater Strasse and had dinner at Café Ansari (red lentil soup plus roasted chicken, two beers, a mineral water and a cappuccino).

It was dark when I unpadlocked the bike I had left across the street and retraced my route back to the hotel, lingering awhile at the fairground, watching people on scary-looking rides. I've never been one for fairgrounds.

I wasn't planning on spending any money at the fairground...

But what a great bike ride! And what freedom a bike offers! I love cycling and it's made all the better in a country that cares for its cyclists, not like in the UK where a cycle lane is a simple line drawing of a bike in the road – an afterthought, nothing more. Here in Vienna there are proper cycle lanes that are safe and not part of the road. I didn't want to hand the bike back. I could have cycled all night, but that would have been foolish. I'll probably take one out tomorrow and Wednesday and possibly even Thursday if there's time as it beats a taxi hands down.

What with ambient music, the tropical fish display – which I'm reliably informed is changed during the winter months to a roaring fire (keep the fish all year round, that's my view) – Motel One is arguably one of the best hotels I've experienced, and it's got a friendly vibe too. And what's more, they're everywhere, even in the UK. In fact, there's quite a few of them in the UK and they can also be found in France, Belgium and Germany. I cannot recommend Motel One highly enough if they're all of this high standard.

I regularly review the hotels I stay in on Trip Advisor. For more, click here.