Do They Know It's Thanksgiving?

Thanksgiving in Austria was interesting.

As you probably guessed, they don't celebrate it here. And they don't really understand it. You eat lots of food? You give thanks for things? You wear elastic-waist pants to the dinner table? You take a nap after doing the dishes? (OK, so the last two things are particular to the Feitl family, but still inexplicable to all of Austria)

In two of my classes we had Thanksgiving breakfasts (each class has a yearly breakfast and because it was the end of November they decided to have a Thanksgiving theme). I explained all the different Thanksgiving foods and how to prepare them to the kids, and they all signed up to bring different things.


Both breakfasts turned out really well. Students in both classes managed to find cranberries (they don't really eat them over here) and made cranberry sauce. We had assorted vegetables at both breakfasts and lots of delicious desserts. The teacher for both classes had the students name some things that they're thankful for, and I got to sit and just chat with them for a while. The students of 3b are 10 and 11 years old and absolutely adorable. The entire class is in the first picture, and the boy sitting next to me in the second picture is also from this class. The students of the other class, 5a, are 12 or 13 years old and past the cute stage but are great.

And now for the things they just didn't understand. My beloved American holiday turned out to have plenty of Austrian flair. I had explained sweet potatoes in detail to the students (long, orange potatoes that taste sweet), but at breakfast with 3b the sweet potatoes were regular white potatoes with sugar (in the first picture next to the dish with the lemon slices). I also explained that pumpkin pie was a dessert (they use pumpkin almost exclusively for savory things), but one of the pumpkin pies looked and tasted suspiciously like carrot cake with lemon icing (behind the "sweet potatoes" in the picture). In the breakfast with class 5a we didn't have roasted turkey, but turkey schnitzel (which the boys are eating in the last picture). They were all so proud of the things that they had brought in that I didn't have the heart to tell them that some of them were so very wrong.

So although the breakfasts were really fun, afterwards I still had a sweet potato-shaped hole in my heart. To fill this hole American roommate Zach and I made Thanksgiving dinner for Italian roommate Laura and Latvian roommate Yasha. I did the sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, and stuffing, and made a failed attempt at gravy, and Zach did the turkey and vegetables. We used the turkey paper plates and napkins that Mommy mailed over, although it took a while to convince Yasha and Laura that it was okay to throw them away after using them (they're always curiously hesitant to believe that disposable products should be disposed of). Afterwards I did three of my favorite things: changed into pajama pants, video chatted with my family, and went to sleep.
And that's how I celebrated Thanksgiving in this mysterious land of schnitzel and sugared potatoes.

"I'm nice!"

Last Wednesday I went to Vienna for a Fulbright reception at the American Ambassador's house.
I always feel a little like a country mouse visiting the big city in Vienna. It's Austria's New York. Though Graz has over 200,000 people, you might as well be from a place like Darmstadt or Cowan. Vienna is not seen as Austria's biggest city, it's seen as Austria's ONLY city.

I got to Vienna early and met up with Emily, who is a Fulbrighter living in Linz, for my first experience with a Christmas market. We had a nice walk-around and I ate a lunch of apple strudel, a chocolate and banana smothered waffle, and Gluehwein (it's ok, I take vitamins). I'll explain more about the Christmas markets later.

After out little excursion we got ready to go to the ambassador's house for the reception. I wasn't sure how to dress for this, so I decided to wear black. I thought I looked like I was headed to a funeral, but the less color you wear the more Austrians seem to like you so I probably just blended in.

To get into the ambassador's house we had to give the guards our invitations and present a picture ID. This is probably the first function, save that party I went to at IU with Andrew, that I've had to be on the list to get into. If I had to use one word to characterize the rest of the night, though, I would say that it was nice.

The ambassador's house was nice. The ambassador and his wife were both nice. The food and wine they served were nice. But most of all, I was nice.

After we walked into the house and checked our coats and bags, we entered the main room to join the rest of the Fulbrighters. I spotted a group of people I knew from orientation, waved to them, and started to make my way over to them when someone suddenly stopped me. "Emily, this is Ambassador Eacho," the Austrian-American Fulbright director (on the left) said. The man standing next to him smiled at me, stuck out his hand, and said, "Hi, how are you?"

The reply seems simple enough. I had any number of adjectives to choose from: "Great!" "Wonderful!" "Fantastic!" "Good!" "Happy!"

But could I think of any of these? Nooooooooo. I was so flustered to realize that I was actually meeting the ambassador that I forgot all of the appropriate responses and replied, signature confused smile on my face, "I'm nice."

WHAT?! "I'm nice?" Really, Emily?

To prove that I really was an articulate master of the English language I decided to chat with the ambassador longer. I made some small talk about something I don't even remember now (I've apparently suppressed the wrong part of that conversation) and think that I probably did redeem myself.

The rest of the night went much more smoothly. We listened to remarks from the Ambassador and from a few of the Fulbright people and had a little time to mingle (aka network). In any case, I don't think my grant can be revoked over the misuse of adjectives, so I'm probably safe. Furthermore, the ambassador doesn't speak a word of German. I consider us even.

A Day in the Life

You might be wondering how glamorous it is to teach English at a fashion school. Or how I manage to get around town without my not-so-trusty Stratus. Or even how much quiet time I squeeze into each day.

To answer all these questions we'll use last Thursday as an example, and I'll depict a typical day in the life of Emily Feitl.

I wake up at 6:30 (yep, AM). I shower in our Euro-shower, which is hundreds of times more complicated that showering in an American shower. American showers (bless them) are standardly equipped with such modern conveniences shower curtains (along with over the counter drugs and a sense of personal space these things do not appear to have made their way across the Atlantic). Showering in a Euro-shower seems to have some secret art form to that I have yet to master, and the only way I can keep from soaking the floor is to shower sitting down.

After showering I inhale my Cheerios and tea before running out the door with my shoes half on and hair half dry to catch the Strassenbahn (tram), for which I invariably leave five minutes later than I should. As I'm running I say a silent prayer that the neighbor's rottweiler isn't outside. He's not a happy dog anyway (he makes Molly look like a marshmallow) and running REALLY seems to get him excited.

My first lesson is at the fashion school. A lesson is called a "Stunde" ("hour"), even though it's actually 50 minutes long. During my Stunde at the fashion school I meet a new class. For about the 15th time (not exaggarating) I play a game with them in which I write number, names, and words on the board and they have to ask me questions to figure out what these things mean to me. Afterwards I have them each tell me something about themselves. A girl in the front tells me that she lives on a farm but drives into Graz to go to school every day. When I ask her if she prefers the country or the city she looks thoughtful for a moment and then replies, "I like the city, but I love my goats."

During the second hour I'm with one of my favorite teachers a favorite classes. This teacher is always trying to perfect her English and asks me questions like, "Is it right to say you 'talk crap' about some one?", for which I have brilliant answers such as "No, it's actually to 'talk shit' about some one." The students are all taking this class to prepare for an exam for the Cambridge Certificate in English, which basically serves as proof that they're proficient. In their workbook is a picture of people doing various activities in each of the four seasons, and the teacher asks the students to get into four groups and come up with a story to describe each picture. The group with the winter-time picture, which depicts two children building a snowman, asks what the English word for "verzueckt" is (it's "enchanted). Expecting something sweet and Disney-esque from the two girls in the group, I ask them to tell their story first. They say that the boy and girl were brother and sister and forgot their keys when they came home from school. To pass the time until their parents came home they started building a snowman. The end.

"What about the enchanted part?" I ask.

At first they don't respond, but after a little prodding agree to tell the rest of the story.

"The snowman becomes enchanted and kills the family while they sleeping," one of the girls finally informs me.

Through my surprise I manage to stutter, "But he doesn't have any arms..."

To which they reply "He strangles them with the scarf."

Before heading to the Gymnasium for my final Stunde (I only have 3 on Thursday, but have 5 on both Monday and Tuesday. Wednesday and Fridays are free) I stop to buy a snack. The safest bet for this is to get some sort of pastry, but for whatever reason I decide to be really Austrian and get a small sandwich instead. I try to find one without ham, salami, or mayonaisse, but this is impossible (more on Austrian food to come later).

At the Gymnasium I teach a lesson on hip-hop and whether or not it's a continuation of the Civil Rights movement. I try (unsuccessfully) to explain to the students, who are about 16, that cuss words are worse in English than in German, and that although we're going to listen to some bad words in these songs (by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five and NWA) it isn't ok to walk around the US saying things like "F*ck tha Police" (note: profanity is treated really liberally in Austria, and cuss words are seen more as informal speech than as offensive words). I think that the students will be interested enough in this lesson to listen to me teach rather than to themselves talking over me for once, but I am so wrong. After about half an hour of asking, telling, and ordering them to be quiet, I finally snap and from deep within my vocal cords summon the voice of James Earl Jones to spit venom and bellow "STOP TALKING!" To my surprise this works, a silence falls over the room, and while I'm not sure they end up learning anything about hip hop or Civil Rights in the 1980s, I pat myself on the back for having successfully herded cats.

As soon as that Stunde finishes at 11:30, I hop back on the Strassenbahn to head home and take a nap. The S-Bahn is crowded body to body, but I try to stay as far as possible from the man with the Chihuahua that's snapping at people when it isn't shaking in that way that only Chihuahuas do.

After my nap (made possible with the help of my trusty earplugs to drown out the sound of my housemate Zach's violin practicing) I throw a quick load of laundry into our mini-washer, which is operated by an indecipherable grid of numbers and symbols that probably hold the secret to unlocking the truth behind the Vatican secret in the next Dan Brown novel. Then I walk about 15 minutes to the bus that will take me to the university for my course on Interculturality and Education. My Czech friend Michaela is also in this class.

The class is uneventful and mostly a repeat of what I learned in my anthro classes at Sewanee, but when I get home I learn that my housemate Yasha has made chicken noodle soup for me and our other houemates and every one's ready to have a family dinner. The soup has a curious nutty and sweet flavor, which Yasha, who knows even less about cooking than I do, tells us comes from the fact that he used chicken broth, carrots, noodles, mushrooms, cinnamon, chestnuts, and balsamic vinegar to flavor it.

After dinner I Skype, catch up on all the TV I've missed (those shows won't watch themselves!), and plan lessons before putting in my ear plugs (so Rick Feitl) and going to sleep.

Graz Living

Welcome to MTV Cribs Euro Edition!
In this episode we'll check out the Styrian retreat of teaching assistants Emily, Laura, and Zach, and violinist Yasha.

We'll start in the dining/entry area. These fine furnishings are just a taste of the vast collection of Ikea originals from the 2009 catalogue that make this house a home. Sprinkled across the table are the bus and tram timetables consulted by the four housemates when the driver is on vacation (365 days a year). A 19" television and LL Cool J-style boom box provide the basis for the entertainment center in the adjoining space.

Next, let's check out Emily's bedroom. The bed is a roomy standard twin size, and no, folks, you don't need to get your eyes checked- those are actual vintage Cabbage Patch dolls lying across it! As if these collector's items (or two best friends... you say tomato I say tomahto) weren't enough, a genuine As Seen on TV Snuggie graces the foot of the bed (a gift from a dear friend in Tennessee who thinks she's really funny). The picture frames gracing the walls and desk were handcrafted by the artisans at the "Everything's 1 Euro" store.
The grand vista from Emily's room is also pictured here, the red brooms providing a dramatic contrast to the lush green landscape. Not pictured here are the three closets (read it and weep, Ellie Bear!) that hold Emily's Gap couture.

Connected to Emily's room is the bathroom shared by the two female housemates. The tub is the perfect place to soak after a long day of teaching 1 or 2 lessons and catching up on internet TV. The radiator doubles as a towel rack and heater (and is probably the most ingenious thing I've encountered in Austria). (Sidenote: this room is exactly what it's name suggests: a BATHroom. The toilet and another sink are in a different room down the hall. This set-up has me scratching my head, too).

Moving on to the kitchen, we'll see even more Ikea furnishings. This is where the housemates spend much of their time, as the home does not have a couch and the wicker chairs in the dining area are mostly show pieces (and falling apart). Pound after pound of pasta, and every once in a while a bowl of rice, is boiled in this room daily.

Finally, let's step outside from the kitchen's back door to see what you've all been waiting for: the swimming pond. In recent months it's been taken over by frogs, a resident newt, many different types of algae (Dad and Andrew would LOVE it), and cold weather, but we're assured that it's more human-friendly in the summer.

And there you have Emily's humble Graz haus.
Next, stay tuned for a special episode of "Pimp my Stratus"!