Besuch bei einem Wiener Original: Das Willi-Universum

A journalist visited an old friend named Willi in Vienna, uncovering a life lived in the margins of everyday existence. The visit took place at a modest house near the banks of the Danube River, where Willi, an 83-year-old man with a distinctive browned complexion and a hairstyle reminiscent of actor Udo Jürgens, resides. His home, located just ten meters from the river, is a grey-painted structure that has stood since his parents built it during a time when the surrounding area was still fields and gravel roads. Today, it stands as a rare refuge amid the opulent villas of Vienna’s elite. Willi lives on the first floor in a small apartment, separate from the rest of the house which is occupied by his daughter, her husband, and their twin children. His room is minimalistic, featuring a single fold-out bed, a desk filled with memorabilia, and a clothes rack. “It's not really livable,” he remarked with self-deprecating humor, though the space felt more like a sanctuary than a lack of comfort. The journalist noted its simplicity, comparing it to her own uncluttered living quarters. Before suffering a heart attack, Willi spent much of his year walking along the streets to swim in the river. Now, his excursions have become less frequent, limited mostly to visits with Karli, a carp that has grown larger than a piglet. From Willi’s balcony, they watched over the garden filled with old fruit trees, while high-rise buildings loomed beyond. “I’m glad I never made a career,” he reflected one evening, looking out over the landscape. Instead, he dedicated his life to nature, horses, and his dog. The journalist’s thoughts drifted to another individual who had once lived a similarly unconventional life, Frau Liedtke, a proofreader who grew up in East Germany. She spent her childhood in the former Nazi seaside resort of Prora, repurposed as an NVA barracks. Later, she worked as a secretary at the Institute for Forest Ecology in Eberswalde. When the journalist met her in 2014 during her internship at the Märkische Oderzeitung, Frau Liedtke had already retired but continued working part-time to supplement her pension. Her office was always filled with the scent of roasted onions and cigarettes, as she would secretly smoke in the closet or eat directly from the package. What stood out most about Frau Liedtke was her perpetual cheerfulness. Every dent in her car was covered with a flower, and she often shared motivational quotes and cat videos during the pandemic. One day, her daughter informed the journalist that Frau Liedtke had suffered a heart attack and did not survive, unlike Willi, who had recovered from his own. As the journalist stood on Willi’s balcony, the sound of someone calling from inside the house broke the silence. “Dinner is ready!” came the voice of A., who had been overseeing the preparation of Willi’s famously praised egg rice. The journalist looked one last time at the sky before hearing a familiar voice echo through the air: “Good appetite, Kinnas! Some roasted onions, maybe?” It was as if Frau Liedtke had returned briefly, offering a final gesture of warmth and connection.