The Cemetery of the Nameless

It’s no big deal to get from Berlin to Vienna—and no, you don’t need to take a plane. Several train connections run from the river Spree to the Danube. The night train even saves you one night of accommodation in Vienna, which can mean quite a bit of money, since the city is notoriously expensive when it comes to places to stay. Still, I strongly recommend reserving a seat; otherwise, you might end up wandering from seat to seat, always hoping the next one will stay free until Vienna…

Vienna feels enchanted, like traveling through time. The grandeur of the imperial era still lingers everywhere. Of course, Vienna has its issues, but there’s a reason it repeatedly wins the title of the most livable city in Europe.

One place I truly love is the Cemetery of the Nameless. Here, a vortex of the Danube used to wash ashore the bodies of people who had drowned—often unidentified. Starting around 1840, an improvised cemetery was created, and it grew over time. Because the river flooded the site regularly, a new cemetery was established at a safer distance in 1900. More than 100 people were buried here. Only half were victims of the river; the others were people who had died by suicide. Since the Catholic Church at the time condemned suicide as a sin, those individuals were buried here as well.

It was the locals who kept the cemetery alive. A carpenter always provided coffins, people brought flowers, and the community cared for the site. Eventually they even financed a small chapel. Today, all the graves have fresh flowers, donated by Vienna’s flower shops. They’re planted by florist apprentices who, throughout the year, also bring wreaths they’ve made as part of their training. Locals bring toys to the graves of the two children buried here.

When I visited today, I had the privilege of meeting a member of the family that has cared for the cemetery for decades. His grandfather, a professional undertaker, looked after the site even after it stopped being used in 1940—when the nearby harbor was expanded and the dangerous vortex disappeared. He did so without pay. The family has remained responsible for the cemetery ever since. One of them, whom I met today, was explaining the history to a group of locals. He showed a folder containing notes from the original files about those who were found. He shared many stories: how all the crosses come from abandoned graves across Vienna, how the necklaces and small objects adorning the graves are donations from locals who still care.

I couldn’t help but wonder why they care so much. Those buried here have been gone for a long time; it’s not grieving families tending to their own. Perhaps it’s a feeling all humans share: however successful, beautiful, wealthy, or celebrated we may be in life, in the end we are all the same. Caring for the nameless may, in a way, be caring for all of us.