David makes coffee for Bernadette and self while Cynthia sleeps. When she wakes, she makes herself breakfast and immediately shifts into max-plan mode, which can be her scariest metaphysical state: What when where, for how long, at what cost, buy tickets, find map, memorize routes, consider alternatives and contingencies to all the above, make lists for errands along the way, consider clothing for day’s adventures, pack essentials.

We do some exchanging of inadvisedly bought groceries at the Spar on our way to the D tram and miss our stop to see the Sisi apartments (this is Elisabeth Amalie Eugenio von Wittelsbach’s rooms. Empress of Austria and Queen of Hungary, she had a 20-inch waist when married at 17 to Franz Joseph and a 21-inch waist at 50, after having four children).

(Just my opinion now) The apartments are a bore at the level of a tourist trap. Yes, there are display cases of Sisi’s dresses, of her makeup accessories, her suitcases, etc., and some of the rooms are interesting, like the one with her exercise equipment and massage table, but on the whole, it feels like a jumble of tchotchkes large and small with no real insight into the person or her time on the planet (she was a devout Catholic, so excuse our word choice).

Cynthia is impressed that they served 13 course dinners in 45 minutes and that each place setting included individual wine carafes as well as multiple glasses and salt dishes.

We leave and walk back to the Albertina’s entrance and Cynthia gets a hot dog but no champagne (from the cart that is famous for high quality wursts and champagne for opera house patrons) while David and Bernadette get coffee sitting outside at Cafe Mozart whose waiter tells Cynthia that she cannot bring “outside food” to our table. We leave and join Lisa — “think Mona,” she says to our group of 10 — for a two-plus hour walking tour of most everything Hofburg.

Lisa is terrific: Full of basic facts but amusing about things like the Hapsburg chin, which became so pronounced an underbite after a few centuries of inbreeding that Charles II of Spain had trouble forming words — and was infertile — and ended the line when he died, which, incidentally, caused the Spanish War of Spanish Succession.

Lot of walking: see Liperzaner stables, see majestic staterooms and libraries and buildings of various neoclassical architecture, and wind up by ourselves near St. Stephen’s Cathedral in Bar Loos (like Ghost Bar in Detroit) where we suck down some bespoke cocktails before going to Grunauer gasthaus for dinner.

After dinner, we follow Google’s directions to Mozarthause for a chamber music concert where we are greeted by a clueless millennial who says the event will begin in a half hour and we can wait in a room that looks like a lunch room for a business. After about 20 minutes, a woman appears and asks why we are here. “The concert,” we say.

“There is a private party here tonight,” she tells us. “No concert.”

“Huh? Isn’t this the Mozarthause?” We show her our tickets.

“You need to go to the other Mozarthause,” she says.

More Google leads us back to the Main Street and into an alley that opens to a courtyard that leads to another alley that opens to another smaller courtyard with people milling behind windows on one side.

We walk through an arch and see a line of people queued for tickets in front of a makeshift table, so we go left down a few stairs to the small room with gaily painted walls and rows of chairs in front of a baby grand piano.

The usher looks at our tickets and tells us to go back to the line in front of the makeshift table to get tickets.

“But we have tickets,” we say, again pointing to the QR codes and receipt for payment.

“You must get other tickets,” he says. (Our tickets, like everyone else’s merely denote a seat in one of two groups of three rows. We are in the front three rows.)

We wait at the tail end of the line and, when we get to the desk, are told we cannot sit together because there are no longer three untaken seats side by side. The room is packed.

So the bad thing is we cannot sit together but the good thing is we CAN attend the concert AND have learned that, in Vienna, you sometimes have to get tickets to get tickets.

The concert — piano, cello and violin — was lovely and fun and included pieces by Elgar and Bach and Strauss as well as Mozart. So we had tunes in our head as we trimmed home and to bed.