12 Best Sights in District 3/Landstraße, Vienna

You could spend an entire day at this ultra-high-tech museum, housed on several floors of an early-19th-century palace near Schwarzenbergplatz. This is a highly interactive experience; in "Facing Mozart," visitors animate a Mozart portrait using a technology called facetracking. Assuming the role of virtual conductor, you can conduct the Vienna Philharmonic (or a video projection of it, anyway) and have the orchestra follow your every command; the conductor's baton is hooked to a computer, which allows you to have full control over the simulated orchestra. For added fun, the stairs at the beginning of the tour are musical; each step produces a note. Other exhibits trace the evolution of sound (from primitive noises to the music of the classical masters) and illustrate the mechanics of the human ear (you can even measure your own frequency threshold).

This is Mozart's only still-existing abode in Vienna, with three floors of displays about his life and the masterworks that he composed here. Equipped with an excellent audio guide and starting out on the third floor of the building, you can hear about Mozart's time in Vienna: where he lived and performed, who his friends and supporters were, and his passion for expensive attire—he spent more money on clothes than most royals at that time. The second floor deals with Mozart's operatic works. The first floor focuses on the 2½ years that Mozart lived at this address (he moved around a lot in Vienna), when he wrote dozens of piano concertos, as well as The Marriage of Figaro and the six quartets dedicated to Joseph Haydn (who once called on Mozart here, saying to Mozart's father, "Your son is the greatest composer that I know in person or by name"). For two weeks in April 1787, Mozart took on a 16-year-old pupil from Germany named Ludwig van Beethoven. Concerts are staged here, and there are activities for children.

Save on the entrance fee by purchasing a combined ticket for Mozarthaus Vienna and Haus der Musik for €18.

Vienna's soaring centerpiece, this beloved cathedral enshrines the heart of the city—although when first built in the 12th century it stood outside the city walls. Vienna can thank a period of hard times for the Catholic Church for the cathedral's distinctive silhouette. Originally the structure was to have had matching 445-foot-high spires, a standard design of the era, but funds ran out, and the north tower to this day remains a happy reminder of what gloriously is not. The lack of symmetry creates an imbalance that makes the cathedral instantly identifiable from its profile alone. Like the Staatsoper and some other major buildings, it was very heavily damaged in World War II, but reconstruction loans have been utilized to restore the cathedral's former beauty. Decades of pollution have blackened the exterior, which is being painstakingly cleaned using only brushes and water, so as not to destroy the facade with chemicals.

It's difficult now to tell what was original and which parts of the walls and vaults were reconstructed. No matter: its history-rich atmosphere is dear to all Viennese. That noted, St. Stephen's has a fierce presence that is blatantly un-Viennese. It's a stylistic jumble ranging from 13th-century Romanesque to 15th-century Gothic. Like the exterior, St. Stephen's interior lacks the soaring unity of Europe's greatest Gothic cathedrals, much of its decoration dating from the later Baroque era.

One particularly masterly work should be seen by everyone: the stone pulpit attached to the second freestanding pier on the left of the central nave, carved by Anton Pilgram between 1510 and 1550. The delicacy of its decoration would in itself set the pulpit apart, but even more intriguing are its five sculpted figures. Carved around the outside of the pulpit proper are the four Church Fathers (from left to right: St. Augustine, St. Gregory, St. Jerome, and St. Ambrose), and each is given an individual personality so sharply etched as to suggest satire, perhaps of living models. There is no satire suggested by the fifth figure, however; below the pulpit's stairs Pilgram sculpted a fine self-portrait, showing himself peering out a half-open window.

As you stroll through the aisles, remember that many notable events occurred here, including Mozart's marriage in 1782 and his funeral in December 1791.

The bird's-eye views from the cathedral's beloved Alter Steffl (Old Stephen Tower) will be a highlight for some. The south tower is 450 feet high and was built between 1359 and 1433. The climb up the 343 steps is rewarded with vistas that extend to the rising slopes of the Wienerwald. The north steeple houses the big Pummerin bell and a lookout terrace (access by elevator).

Today this block, bounded by Singerstrasse, Grünangergasse, and Blutgasse, is a splendid example of city renovation and restoration, with cafés, shops, and galleries tucked into the corners. Nobody knows for certain how its gruesome name originated—Blut is German for "blood"— but one legend has it that Knights Templar were slaughtered here when their order was abolished in 1312. (There are roads named "Blutgasse" in villages surrounding Vienna, so many believe the name to be in remembrance of massacres suffered at the two Turkish invasions.) In later, pre-pavement, years the narrow street was known as Mud Lane. You can look inside the courtyards to see the open galleries that connect various apartments on the upper floors, the finest example being at Blutgasse 3. At the corner of Singerstrasse sits the 18th-century Neupauer-Breuner Palace, with its monumental entranceway and delicate windows. Opposite, at Singerstrasse 17, is the Rottal Palace, attributed to Hildebrandt, with its wealth of classical wall motifs, a contrast to the simple 18th-century facades on Blutgasse.

The Postgasse, to the east of Schönlaterngasse, introduces this unexpected visitor from Rome, built in the 1630s, some 50 years before the Viennese Baroque building boom. Its facade is modeled after the Roman churches of the 16th century. The interior illustrates why the Baroque style came to be considered the height of bad taste during the 19th century (and it still has many detractors today). "Sculpt 'til you drop" seems to have been the motto here, and the viewer's eye is given no respite. This sort of Roman architectural orgy never really gained a foothold in Vienna, and when the great Viennese architects did pull out all the decorative stops at the Belvedere Palace, they did it in a very different style and with far greater success.

The architectural jewel of Himmelpfortgasse, this imposing abode—designed by Fischer von Erlach in 1697 and later expanded by Hildebrandt—was originally the town palace of Prince Eugene of Savoy. The Baroque details here are among the most inventive and beautifully executed in the city. The delightful motifs are softly carved, as if freshly squeezed from a pastry tube. Such Baroque elegance may seem inappropriate for a finance ministry, but the contrast between place and purpose could hardly be more Viennese.

If you want to find a nook where time seems to be holding its breath, head to the heart of the old town, where the Fleischmarkt (Meat Market) meets the hilly Griechengasse. Commanding the cobblestone lane is a 14th-century watchtower, Vienna's oldest, and an ivy-covered tavern called the Griechenbiesl, which has been serving customers for 500 years. Half a millennium ago, this quarter was settled by Greek and Levantine traders (there are still many rug dealers here) and many of them made this tavern their "local." The wooden carving on the facade of the current restaurant commemorates Marx Augustin—best known today from the song "Ach du lieber Augustin"—an itinerant musician who sang here during the plague of 1679. A favored Viennese figure, he fell into a pit filled with plague victims but survived, presumably because he was so pickled in alcohol. In fact, this tavern introduced one of the great pilsner brews of the 19th century and everyone—from Schubert to Mark Twain, Wagner to Johann Strauss—came here to partake. Be sure to dine here to savor its low-vaulted rooms adorned with engravings, mounted antlers, and bric-a-brac; the Mark Twain room has a ceiling covered with autographs of the rich and famous dating back two centuries. Adjacent to the tavern is a Greek Orthodox Church co-designed by the most fashionable neoclassical designer in Vienna, Theophil Hansen.

Off the narrow streets and alleys behind the Stephansdom is this peaceful spot, approximately ½ km (¼ mile) from the cathedral. The beautiful Baroque courtyard has the distinct feeling of a retreat into the 18th century.

The maze of tiny streets surrounding Himmelpfortgasse (literally, "Gates of Heaven Street") conjures up the Vienna of the 19th century. The most impressive house on the street is the Ministry of Finance. The rear of the Steffl department store on Rauhensteingasse now marks the site of the house in which Mozart died in 1791. There's a commemorative plaque that once identified the street-side site.

Once part of Vienna's medieval Latin Quarter, Schönlaterngasse is the main artery of a historic neighborhood that has blossomed in recent years, thanks in part to government Kulturschillinge—or renovation loans. Streets are lined with beautiful Baroque town houses (often with colorfully painted facades), now distinctive showcases for art galleries, boutiques, and coffeehouses. At No. 5 you'll find a covered passage that leads to the historic Heiligenkreuzerhof courtyard. The picturesque street is named for the ornate wrought-iron wall lantern at Schönlaterngasse 6. Note the Baroque courtyard at Schönlaterngasse 8—one of the city's prettiest.

The quarter's most famous house is the Basiliskenhaus. According to legend, on June 26, 1212, a foul-smelling basilisk (half rooster, half toad, with a glance that could kill) took up residence in the courtyard well, poisoning the water. An enterprising apprentice dealt with the problem by climbing down the well armed with a mirror; when the basilisk saw its own reflection, it turned to stone. The petrified creature can still be seen in a niche on the building's facade. Be sure to peek into the house's miniature courtyard for a trip back to medieval Vienna.

The church was built around 1630. Its flamboyant Baroque interior contains a fine trompe-l'oeil ceiling fresco by Andrea Pozzo, the master of visual trickery, who was imported from Rome in 1702 for the job. You might hear a Mozart or Haydn mass sung here in Latin on many Sundays.

One of modern architecture's greatest curiosities, the Post Office Savings Bank was designed in 1904 by Otto Wagner, whom many consider the father of 20th-century architecture. In his manifesto Modern Architecture, he condemned 19th-century revivalist architecture and pleaded for a modern style that honestly expressed modern building methods. Accordingly, the exterior walls of the Post Office Savings Bank are mostly flat and undecorated; visual interest is supplied merely by varying the pattern of the bolts used to hold the marble slabs in place. Later architects embraced Wagner's beliefs wholeheartedly, although they used different, truly modern building materials: glass and concrete rather than marble.