Party Like It's 1899

Ball Season just recently came to a close.
Yes, formal balls are such a big deal in Austria that they have an entire season devoted to them that lasts until Mardi Gras. Vienna, especially, takes balls and waltzing very seriously.

A man with some connection to Fulbright invited all the Austrian Fulbrighters to attend the ball for the Technische Universität at the Hofburg (imperial palace) in Vienna. I'm not sure exactly this man was, but he was apparently important enough to invite 20+ people to the ball and wore some sort of medallion, indicating that he belongs to an exclusive society. I'm 90% sure it's the Order of the Phoenix. Fulbright paid for Megan (L), Emily (R) and I, who all live outside of Vienna to stay in the same hotel we stayed at during orientation, but this time they booked us the honeymoon suite, complete with a huge bathtub and fireplace.

Before going to the ball I had assumed that ball was often just another word used for dance. In Austrian high schools the graduating class has something called a "Matura Ball" that I had always just likened to prom, and I figured that the TU Ball would be a slightly more formal Mountaintop. I had also assumed that most Austrians didn't actually know how to waltz.

I was wrong on both accounts. To get into the ball you had to have a floor-length gown. Unless you knew some one really high up, this was strictly enforced and I saw quite a few people get turned away for not being dressed nicely enough. The TU Ball was also a debutante ball. I couldn't see any of this happen because there were about 4000 people all crowded in to watch, but the night's opening ceremonies largely consisted of the girls making their debuts in pretty white dresses. This wasn't strange to me. What was, though, was the fact that not only could the debutantes and their escorts all waltz perfectly, but so could almost all of the attendees. You can see them whirling and twirling in these two pictures.

When I went back to school on Monday I asked my students if they could all waltz, too. They all said yes because, duh!, they had taken dancing classes. Dancing classes seem to be some Austrian rite of passage (to me this is also a very Germanic idea, that dancing is something that you have to be taught how to do in an orderly way, rather than thinking of dancing as a form of self-expression). Emily (Fulbrighter in the first picture) was told by an Austrian friend that he took waltzing lessons because "that's what you do when you're 15." Even Tatjiana, one of my students who has pink hair, probably listens to Gwar, and shops at a store called "Trash" said that she enjoyed waltzing. I tried waltzing a little with Gergely, who is a Fulbrighter in Vienna and behind me in the group picture, but it turns out that that one time I waltzed with Dan in high school wasn't sufficient preparation.

I think the balls are a definite celebration of Austria's grand imperial past, but there are some modern updates that I'm sure have Franz Josef rolling in his grave. In addition to the ball room where waltzes were played, there was also a room for dancing to jazz music. And in the basement there was not only a disco (imagine a bunch of Austrian debutantes shakin' it the beats of Kanye and a trippy light show), but also a Heurige in the basement. (A Heurige is like a beer garden but with wine. They're really informal and you sit at long picnic tables and eat sausage. This is where I spent a lot of my time.)

I also need to mention that in this picture with Olivia I'm drinking the free tap and nursed the same glass of wine for a really long time because although the tickets were expensive, and I did get an espresso cup as a party favor, there were only cash bars. WHAT'S UP WITH THAT?

The ball went until 5 AM, but we left around 3, exhausted from trying to waltz, being in the Heurige, and making various puns on the word "ball" (because we attended, did that make us ballers?, and lots of other that I won't repeat here). The next morning I went to Schloss Belvedere, which houses a really big collection of Austrian art, including Gustav Klimt's "The Kiss", and has a great view overlooking the city center. I also took another self-portrait and have to say that I think all the practice in Ljubljana paid off as I now look directly into the camera when I take them.

Visitor #1

Way back in December a one Ms. Makena Timmins came to visit me. I hadn't talked about the visit on here yet because I'm waiting for Makena, who seems to be busy because she's getting ready to go into THE ARMY, to email me a few pictures of us in Vienna, but in the spirit of Christmas and continuity I'll go ahead and write about it.(For those of you who are wondering, she didn't have any outbursts. No hissy fits when the train was late. No abrasive defenses of 'Merica and God's Capitalist way when she couldn't find Tide at the supermarket. Not even the declaration that she was going to hire a driver when we missed the bus!)

Other than her unusual calmness, the visit was everything you'd expect a visit with Makena to be. We went to the Christkindlmarkt in Hauptplatz here in Graz, and once Makena had drunk their Glühwein supply dry we went to a Cuban place called Cohibar (like Cohiba cigars, get it? Clever Austria!). It was all really fun and we stayed out really late and cooked a huge pasta meal at 4 AM, and it was REALLY good to see some one from Sewanee, but the point of this is more to explain what Makena and I saw in Vienna.

Vienna was gorgeous at Christmas. The Christkindlemärkte didn't sell anything different from what they sell in Graz (with the exception of the commemorative mug I got with a picture of Haydn on it!), but the streets, which are already beautiful, were lit up with tiny, white and glittering Christmas lights. There's a blurry picture of the illuminated Graben (a big pedestrian street) here.

Over an entrance to the cathedral was a giant Advent wreath. Austrians take their Advent wreaths pretty seriously- there's even one in every classroom. Word to the wise, though: one of my teachers accidentally caught her Persian rug on fire this year when she left the room for a second. So never leave your Advent wreath unattended- if you play with fire you'll get burned. Unless you're Andrew at age 5 and Dad smells the sulfur from the matches you've been playing with in the TV room. Then you'll just get accused of farting.

We were in Vienna pretty close to Christmas, but Christmas trees were just beginning to be sold. Austrians don't put their tree up until Christmas Eve. They don't decorate it, but the Christkind (Christ child, who is actually a spirit) comes, decorates it, and leaves presents. The parents ring a bell after he's come and the kids run in and open their presents.

I'm allergic to horses. I found this out this summer when I requested that the nurse test for guinea pigs and horses during my allergy testing after that little brush with exercise-induced anaphylaxis (never again will I eat shrimp and then go running). But I always like to go by the stables for the Lipizzaner stallions (the ones that can prance around on their hind legs a la Molly Sue Feitl, R.I.P.), and Makena and I happened to see them on their way to practice. This made me really happy, as did the Leopold Museum, which has a really big 20th century German and Austrian art collection and is one of the best (and only) places I've found to apply what I learned in all those Survey of German Lit. courses (note to Meggy: try it! You'll feel smart and your education will seem relevant!).

All this sight-seeing and late-night pasta cooking wore us out, so we stopped to refuel at Cafe Central. There's a picture of what we ordered here that I think really captures the essence of our personailites. Take a wild guess as to who had what (keep in mind that it was around 4 in the afternoon, but also that I had dragged Makena to a museum and she was feeling a little down at this point).

Christmas Markets

I'm writing this at the end of January. The whole country seems more disgruntled than usual. It's cold. It's dark. The streets are covered in a nasty brown salt-and-slush mixture that soaks my boots and leaves white stains on them. I am constantly cold despite the fact that I keep the radiator in my room cranked up to 5. (Radiators are standard here and 5 is as high as any of them seem to go- I keep wishing some one would invent a Spinal Tap-style heater for me. One that could go "up to 6" would be a dream come true.) I run to catch the tram every day not just because I'm running late, but also because I want to spend that much less time outside.

All of this has made me realize just how pleasant Christmastime was in Graz. Picture this: a city square dotted with little huts selling various gifts, foods, and warm drinks, and the entire city gathered around to shop, chat, and enjoy the gemütlich Christmas atmosphere. This was the scene at the Christmas markets -Christkindlmärkte in German- that sprang up throughout the city, which was covered in white lights and various decorations (a giant Advent calendar was even projected onto the outside of the town hall).

Graz had 6 or 7 Christkindlmärkte throughout the city center. The markets can be divided into two categories: 1) those selling Austrian things to mostly foreigners 2) those selling foreign things to mostly Austrians. Really every one went to the markets for the same reason- to buy unique Christmas gifts, and of course Austrian gifts wouldn't seem like anything new or special for Austrians. But the first type was the type that I frequented and have part of pictured here.


Most traditional markets will basically sell a few standard things. There are always stands selling Lebkuchen, which is like gingerbread but milder and with a honey flavor (I can live without it) and often comes in hearts that say various mushy gushy things in German like "Komm Kuscheln" ("come snuggle").

There are also always stands selling wood-cut, mercury glass, and orange- and cinnamon-scented  ornaments.

 Plenty of stands sell various types of Schnapps, oils, and vinegar (preferably organic because Austrians- who smoke like chimneys- just can't IMAGINE putting preservatives into their bodies).

I thought roasted chestnuts were a figment of Nat King Cole's imagination, but stands selling them can be found throughout the city. Chestnuts are huge over here. On the Feast Day of St. Martin, the Name Day of St. Martin, or some sort of holiday having to do with some one named "Martin", Laura (Italian roommate) and some of her Italian friends came over and made an Italian chestnut flour cake for this mysterious day. The cake looked chocolatey and delicious but turned out to taste liken hardened paste. The only ingredients were chestnut flour and water.
I haven't cared for chestnuts since, but Austrians buy "heisse Maroni" wrapped up in newspaper ranging in size from 1/4 liter to an entire liter.

There are also always stands inexplicably selling puppets.

It's really easy to get swept up in the charming, old-world feel of the markets, but as you're shopping you also have to keep in mind that Austria is part of a 21st century global economy, so it's easy for them to buy and sell hecho in China products. This is best demonstrated by stands like "Engelwelt" ("Angel World"), where you could buy the same products you'd find in an Oriental Trading catalogue.

Luckily the question of whether the products at the Christkindlmärkte are "authentically" Austrian or not ceases to bother you after a few glasses of Glühwein. Glühwein is mulled wine, served at every Christkindlmarkt, and is wonderful for a number of reasons.
First, It's is delicious. It's spiced and sweet and tastes like Christmas.
Second, It's is practical. Austria is cold. The cup of Glühwein is warm and alcoholic.
Third, Glühwein is profitable. You can KEEP the mug that it's served in! When you buy a cup of it you pay an extra 2-3 Euros that you get back if you return the mug. If you want another cup they just refill the mug you already have and charge you for the price of the Glühwien, but not for the mug again. Because the price of the mug is absorbed by the price of your first glass, it's almost like you're getting the mug for free. I absolutely love free things (I look forward to going to the dentist so I can get the mini toothpaste and Dr. Bradley Bath, D.D.S. toothbrush) and because of this I now have set of 6 Christkindlmarkt mugs.
 They're nice-looking enough to make my mom, who doesn't drink coffee, only drinks tea seldomly, and has more mugs than she could ever use, have a minor break down when she saw one at Christmas and found out that I didn't get one for her. Luckily my roommate came to the rescue and picked one up for her in Vienna.

Even during Advent it was dark, and it was definitely cold, but the streets were a little brighter when they were covered with Christmas lights, and the weather was a lot more bearable with a Glühwein crutch.

Note to Self: Classroom Time Is Not a Therapy Session

I'm slowly settling back into my routine after the best trip home ever. I got to meet Owen (!!!) and spend some quality time with him. I know we'll be best friends when I get back. I also met Reese, who, aside from her penchant for peeing on people's beds (bet you'll put "a door" at the top of your birthday list this year, won't you Ellie Bear?), is also very sweet. We had a great trip up to Chicago, complete with bread dumplings, I got to see all of my Evansville family, and I watched as many DVRed shows with Mommy as possible. I spent an entire week with Joel (which is unprecedented since we graduated) and even got to see Meggy O'Roark. I wasn't quite ready for it to be over.

My suitcase was lost on the way back, as I had a sneaking suspicion it would be. After three days of wearing the same clothes I became convinced that I would never see my wonderful blue Samsonite again and started compiling a list of the contents so I could hopefully be reimbursed by KLM (whose motto, ironically, is "the reliable airline"). As the list grew longer and longer I grew sadder and sadder. Coming to terms with the fact that you'll never see things like "Christmas presents from Grandpa and Uncle Sonny" and "Cabbage Patch Doll/Childhood Best Friend" again is a difficult task.
Luckily KLM eventually called to let me know that a suspect "matching my description" had been apprehended in Amsterdam, and a day later my rogue suitcase and all its contents were delivered to my door. So the saga of my suitcase had a happy ending, but I think all the worry I experienced because of it, combined with jet-lag and readjusting in general, contributed to my little incident in class 5c on Thursday.

The day's topic was unemployment in the US. We started with the facts and figures and then progressed into more personal territory. I told the kids about people I knew who had lost their jobs and how hard it was for my very-qualified friends to find jobs right now. Then it got REALLY personal. As I talked more and more the hour transformed into "Emily touchy-feely sharing time" and I poured my heart out to a group of 15 year olds, telling them how scared I was to not have a job next year, how awful it was to not have a plan, what a rude awakening it is to realize that it really isn't what but who you know that matters, and about how I really don't even know how to search for a job. I don't think they understood most of this (although whether it was because of the words I used or the fact that I showed emotion I'm unsure), which only made me more sad. Somehow this snowballed into me feeling like no one in the entire country of Austria understood me.

6 Ferrero Rochers and a nap later, though, I felt like a new person.

Arnold Was Here

One restless Saturday in December I took the bus out to Thal, which is notable for two reasons: it is the home of a famous church designed by Ernst Fuchs, and it is the home of Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The town was small, but because I decided to go on an impulse, and because I'm not very good at being impulsive, I had no idea how to get to the church or any Arnie sights. I stopped in a Gasthaus (a restaurant/bar/local hangout) and asked for directions. The moment I stepped in, every person in the Gasthaus, all middle-aged men, turned to look at me. I asked for directions really quickly, said thank you, and left pretending not to understand the guys who were asking/yelling for me to have a drink with them. I probably should have expected the town that produced the terminator to seep testosterone from its pores.

The church turned out not to be too far away. It also turned out to be just as much of an acid trip as it looked like in pictures. The theme seemed to be "under the sea", with the floor and pews curving like waves and covered in pebbles that looked like they had come from the ocean floor. The glass in the windows was full of tiny bubbles, and all this was illuminated by reflecting lights and psychedelic colors. Sebastian and Flounder would have been more at home here than St. Jakob. The whole time I was there I had to suppress the urge to sing "Part of Your World" (it wouldn't have been the same without Meggy anyway). It's very Little Mermaid, but also looks like a place that might play music by the Doors and reek of patchouli, doesn't it?

Outside the church there was a little museum celebrating Arnold Schwarzenegger, and I heard that somewhere in the town you can see his childhood home and the row boat in which he proposed to Maria Shriver, but the best Schwarzenegger sight, in my opinion, was his school. It was locked so I couldn't go in, but I hope artistic execution of the painting/giant photo of Arnold's head on the outside (which basically says you can move mountains if you believe in yourself) makes your day just as much as it made mine.

Slovenia: A Case-Study in Happiness and Self-Portraiture

I had a few days off to celebrate the Feast of the Immaculate Conception (not a joke), so I went to Ljubljana, which is the capital of Slovenia.

Slovenia is like the central-European Delaware. Very few people know where it is, and NO ONE can name the capital . To help us all out I'll provide maps:


As a side-note, it still blows my mind that Delaware is so close to NYC, New Jersey, AND
Maryland.

I wasn't expecting too much from Ljubljana. Let's Go didn't have much to say about it and I had trouble finding an actual person who had been to tell me anything about it, BUT Rick Steves made it sound nice. Because I placed blind faith in Rick Steves a long time ago and Ljubljana is only 2 1/2 hours away by train, I decided to go. Alone. Just like Rick Steves does.

This turned out to be one of the best decisions I've made since I've been here. I was completely charmed by this city.

My first pleasant surprise, and the moment in which I knew I wasn't in Austria anymore, was when I started interacting with people. Did the man on the train actually smile when he checked my ticket? Did that woman just say "excuse me" when she bumped into me? Did the waitress at the restaurant really act happy rather than inconvenienced to have me sit at her table?

Slovenians are not only nice, but also proud to be Slovenian. They take a lot of pride in their language (Preseren, their national poet is pictured with a muse to the left), history, and culture. (A note about Slovenian history and culture [which is chronicled on the doors to the cathedral, pictured right]: Slovenia is a Slavic country, and the Slovenian language is also Slavic. They're a part of the former Yugoslavia but have historically had and have the most stable economy and governmental infrastructure of any of those states. Therefore, their break from Yugoslavia in 1991 only took 3 days, they are now an EU member state, and they are on the Euro). Certain things are particularly Slovenian: painted panels on beehives (thought to help the bees recognize which home is theirs) and roofed haystacks (yeah, I'm not really clear about what these are either). Ljubljana's symbol is the dragon, which Jason supposedly slew when coming back on his quest for the Golden Fleece. The dragon is even on the man-hole covers, which I thought were pretty awesome.

The second pleasant surprise was how beautiful Ljubljana was. I heard it compared to Salzburg a lot, because the city center is fairly compact, a river runs through the middle, and a castle sits on a hilltop overlooking the city, but for me the similarities stopped there. Unlike in Salzburg, I wasn't body to body with crowds of American and Japanese tourists. I actually had room to breathe and enjoy the city. Good ol' Rick described Ljubljana as the next, next Prague, meaning that in the coming years Ljubljana will become more and more popular and crowded (probably as more and more people like me tell everyone how great it is... which makes me wonder if I should publish this).
Much of the city was designed by an architect in the early 20th-c named Joze Plecnik, who combined classical form and modern function to create really beautiful and practical designs. He has lots of bridges and buildings throughout the city, including the Tromostovje, or Triple Bridge, which spans across the river and connects the Old Town to the New Town, funneling pedestrian traffic into and out of Preseren Square (the main square) in three congestion-free directions. I happened to be the only person to visit the house, so I got a private tour from a really nice girl who spoke really good English. We only spent an hour together, but I'd like to think of her as my Slovenian BFF.
The architecture in Ljubljana was an interesting mixture of Medieval, Baroque, Art Noveau, and Modern Classical, but it was colorful and added vitality to the city. Though Graz is considered a student town, Ljubljana felt much younger, and the streets and cafes were crowded with 20-somethings rather than old ladies with bad dye-jobs and their rolling shopping bags trailing behind them.

The third and last pleasant surprise Slovenia offered me was the most, well, surprising. After a full two days of sight-seeing, including visits to the National Museum, Joze Plecnik House, an over-night stay in a former military prison-turned hostel, Tivoli Park, the city hall, the Contemporary History Museum, Preseren Square, and many, many churches (including the sensory-overloading Serbian Orthodox church, pictured right), I stood up at the castle, looked down at the city, smiled and enjoyed a foreign, warm, fuzzy feeling. It was a vaguely familiar feeling and after a while I realized that I had felt it before. After a while longer I realized I even had a name for it... HAPPINESS. To document this emotion I took lots of self-portraits (special thanks to my camera's self-timer function and the guy who took the picture at the Dragon Bridge- unlike in Austria he smiled when I asked him and didn't stare at my camera as if he had never seen such a contraption before. How refreshing!).
Picture 1: Happy on the Triple Bridge!
Picture 2: Happy on the Triple Bridge going towards the castle at night!
Picture 3: Happy at the Dragon Bridge!
Picture 4: Happy on the Triple Bridge in the opposite direction!
Picture 5: Happy at the castle with the wreath I bought at the market!


To conclude, I'd like to share one last thing that made me happy: this woman, sitting in a front pew in the cathedral... reading the newspaper.

Salzburg and Waking up Early: These Are NOT a Few of My Favorite Things

Last Saturday I woke up at 4:30.

AM.

Why and how could this possibly be necessary? Because I went to Salzburg with my Slavic friends on a mission to confirm my dislike of the city.

Two years ago I visited Salzburg by myself after European Studies and before going to visit Meggy. I had pretty high expectations for it because everyone I knew who had been there raved about how beautiful it was. Books and people told me that it was charming and the most pure example of a Baroque city anywhere in Europe. Even my beloved Let's Go led me to believe that if you have any sort of interest in classical music, you'll love Salzburg.

But both times I was just not impressed. Even on a sunny day Salzburg was monochrome, and not even an exciting chrome, but gray. Don't be fooled be the pictures- I picked the most colorful ones. And it's only exciting if you're obsessed with Mozart and/or the Sound of Music. I've never been a huge fan of Mozart, and because of Amy's aversion to Julie Andrews, the movies we watched as kids were Scamper the Penguin, the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and George of the Jungle (this last one because my mom seems to have a thing for men in loin cloths), so Salzburg holds no niche-interest for me.

We walked into the city center and started at Mozartsgeburtshaus (birth house- it's big and yellow). I didn't want to go in (I went the last time I was there and the exhibits made use of too many trippy neon lights. Frankly it kind of creeped me out.) and hoped that none of my friends would either. Luckily it turns out that Slavs are a thrifty people and no one was willing to pay 6 Euros for a ticket.

Our next stop was St. Peter Friedhof (cemetery), which has the graves of both Mozart's sister and the torso of Joseph Haydn's brother Michael (I don't ask questions, I just read the guidebooks). The graves are all extremely well kept, especially considering the fact that many of these people died over a hundred years ago, and the tombstones are iron-works. My most well-spent euro bought me entry to the catacombs of the cemetery, although "catacombs" isn't really the right word for them. They're more a tunnel that's been dug into a mountain and go up rather than down. There are a few chapels along the way and the whole thing has a really covert, cave-like feeling. The catacombs led to a little overlook, where we stopped to take a gemeinsames Foto ("group picture"- my new German phrase!). The Russians are missing from the picture.At the Residenz (palace) most of us went to see an outdoor nativity set exhibit that Mom would have loved, while the Russians (whom I had never met before) took picture after picture in semi-clever poses with various sculptures. According to Yasha Russian girls love to do this more than any other nationality.
We saw other things, like the Mozartswohnhaus (the house that he lived in and the Slavs also didn't care to pay to visit), Mirabell Palace and its gardens, Getreidegasse (a famous street with lots of iron-worked Medieval signs- pictured above with the Russians in the foreground), and the cathedral (even though it's not heated we ducked in to warm up- it's also pictured above), which are all ok, but the highlight of the day was the fortress (Festung Hohensalzburg). It was only 5 Euros to go in, which included entry to the grounds and fortress itself (it's huge! and part of it is pictured), a visit to the Marionette Museum, and an audio tour that I would have paid a lot more for just because it was in English. I also have to admit that the view, of both the city and the countryside, from the top was great. On the way down (the fortress sits above the city, you can see it in the very first picture) I got a really pretty picture of the cathedral.
After all this sight-seeing our feet were frozen, even in boots, so we stopped to have a warm drink. The problem with this was that all of Austria and most of America seemed to be in Salzburg this weekend, and every tourist seemed to want to warm up at the same time. When we finally found a cafe there was only one table open with four seats for eight of us. Europeans are used to not having any personal space, though, so this wasn't a problem for my friends. Katinka and I shared a chair and I pretended that having a tiny Slovenian on my lap was normal for me.

We walked around the Christkindlmarkt (Christmas market) to kill time before our train left, and as we were leaving there was a countdown and light show (Austrians seem to go crazy for those) because the Christkind was visiting (an angel/spirit who comes on Christmas Eve and brings presents to good little Austrian children). Unfortunately we had to leave before the countdown was over, but I would have loved to have seen what the he looked like.

We got home around 11, totally exhausted. I did have a nice day, but mostly because the people I went with are really nice. The fortress and catacombs are well worth a visit, but I wouldn't have gone all the way to Salzburg just to see them. I think so many Americans go to Salzburg because they know it from the Sound of Music, and if the sights had a more personal meaning to me in such a way, I might like it more too. I think Graz is much prettier and pleasant than Salzburg, though, and I was happy to get home. When I have my midlife crisis and quit teaching to become the female Rick Steves I'll make note of all this in my guidebooks.