Vienna with Joel

A trip to Austria without seeing Vienna isn't quite complete. When I told the teachers and students at both of my schools that Joel was coming to visit, most of them asked, "You'll take him to Vienna, won't you?" (actually, with the students, who don't quite understand future tense, verb placement, or the sound the letter "v" makes, it was more like "Take you him to Wienna?") Like I've said before, there's an idea that Vienna is THE Austrian city, and places like Graz, Salzburg, and Innsbruck are "willages" with plenty to see, but only after you've seen Vienna.

So I carried out my duty as a temporary Austrian and took Joel to Vienna. I shouldn't make this sound like a chore, though, because I really like both Joel and Vienna, so it was a win-win situation for me. As the seat of the Hapsburg monarchy (there's a map of the Austro-Hungarian empire that they ruled over above), Vienna was built to celebrate wealth, power, and hierarchy. These are all things that make me a little uncomfortable, but Vienna is (was) so good at being an imperial city and was designed so well to fit this purpose that I can't help but like it. Within the ring (the city center), many of the streets are wide, pedestrian, and grand, and the Hofburg (imperial palace) dominates the way you would expect an imperial palace to dominate. Imagine walking down an already-impressive street like this, which is the Graben...

...turning a corner...

... and bam! having an imperial palace right there waiting for you as a perfect photo op. It should be noted that in this picture of Joel, me, and a lamppost standing in front of the Hofburg you can only see a small part of the palace. It's massive.

 The squares, celebrating various heroes of the Austro-Hungarian Empire are super-sized, as are the statues depicting these heroes in the middle of the squares. Here I'm standing in Mariatheresienplatz in front of the Kunsthistorisches Museum (Fine arts Museum), which perfectly mirrors the Naturhistorisches Museum (Natural History Museum) on the other side of the square. The statue in the background is my good friend Empress Maria Theresia.

Joel and I spent a few hours at the Naturhistorisches. We saw a huge collection of precious stones and minerals, an interesting exhibit on Darwin, and the Venus of Willendorf, which is one of the oldest known artistic representations of a woman and pictured left, but the most exciting part of the visit was the fact that we saw an actual (dead) coelocanth, preserved in formaldehyde. To me they look a lot like the giant catfish at Dawson Springs, Cerulean Springs, or wherever it was that we had to do Open Water Certification for Scuba class. And dad you're right, Joel will need a really big tank if he ever hopes to have one as a pet.

Vienna isn't the friendliest city and it's not known for its hospitality (it's too busy being proud of its imperial past), but it makes up for it with institutions like the Viennese cafe, where you can sit and enjoy the good life over a cup of coffee and seriously delicious cake. Joel and I went to Cafe Central, which is the biggest and most impressive cafe (and also where Trotsky planned some of the October Revolution!). There's usually live piano music in Central, and, joy of joys, we went on a day when they happened to be playing showtunes. And yes, Meggy and Mary, they did play both "Memory" and "Music of the Night." And yes Meggy, I did play both of those in orchestra. Later we walked by the Opera House but only had the patience to take a picture in front of it, not to wait in line for hours to see an opera neither of us could probably stay awake for.

We saw the cathedral, a few other churches, and other sites, but I really need to mention the quirkier side of Vienna. After treating ourselves to the "Luxury Menu" at a nondescript Chinese restaurant for Valentine's Day (spring rolls, soup, entrees, and dessert!) we went out to the Prater, a famous amusement park that's sort of like Coney Island minus the hot dogs and plus the German language. I've wanted to ride the ferris wheel at the Prater for a really long time, so Joel and I waited in line, paid a lot of money, and crammed into a car with a chatty family of Italians. About 30 seconds into the ride, though, I realized how old the ferris wheel was and how high up it was taking me and decided I didn't like it anymore. I blame my dad for my distrust of amusement park rides (Dad at Holiday World before riding the Banshee: "See that timing chain, Emmy? That snaps and you're done for.")

We also stopped and saw the power plant designed by Austrian architect Friedensreich Hundertwasser, who was known for hating straight lines and creating buildings that were in harmony with nature (his apartment building in Vienna has trees growing out of windows).

Overall I don't think Joel was as enchanted by Vienna as I am, but he did really enjoy seeing the coelocanth and drinking all the Viennese coffee. And who couldn't be intrigued at the very least by Hundertwasser's power plant? Plus, we ate off the "Luxury Menu", and that just doesn't happen every day.

Visitor #2

BIG NEWS.

Ok, it's probably not news to anyone anymore, but JOEL CAME TO VISIT FOR TWO WEEKS! It was a semi-surprise. I had thought that he would try to come sometime in March, but he asked if he could come in February instead and within a week he was here. I had a week off for my semester break and only had to work 3 other days while he was here, so for 14 days my life was all Joel all the time. This is the longest amount of time we've spent together since graduation and it was fantastic.

Joel received a really warm welcome from me (of course), from my roommates, and in a shocking display of hospitality, a 4th year class of English students at the Fashion School.  His first night in Graz Laura (Italian roommate) and some of her Italian friends made pizza and we had a nice, long, and loud Italian dinner (Laura and her friend Chiara are in the picture). This also happened to be the night that Joel kicked off his self-guided Bier Tour of Austria, which was mostly conducted from the comfort of my house but included excursions to Vienna and Budapest.

The next morning the 4th year students at the Fashion School had a breakfast for us and brought in fruits, bread, cold cuts (Austrians LOVE cold cuts), and lots of different kinds of jam. One girl even brought in a Sacher Torte that her mom had made. I don't usually like to eat really sweet things for breakfast, but Sacher Torte is an Austrian specialty and I couldn't pass it up (Sacher Torte is a chocolate cake with thick chocolate icing and apricot filling). Plus I couldn't risk hurting the girl's feelings by not eating it (I rationalized all the other unhealthy food choices I made throughout the next three weeks in a similar fashion).

As if the Beer Tour weren't exciting enough Joel also got to see the sights of Austria's second largest city. Wyatt Harper, who has a Fulbright in Romania this year and we graduated with from Sewanee last year, came through Graz while he was traveling so we met up with him. We walked around and I showed them the cathedral, which is a complete mismatch of Gothic structure, Baroque decorations, and Victorian chandeliers that make it look like it was put together in the dark, the mausoleum, where one of the Kaisers (whose name I can't remember right now, but is safe to say was Wilhelm, Josef, Franz, or some combination thereof. Anyway there's a picture of Joel and I outside of it here) lies and was designed by Fischer von Erlach, the Herrengasse and Hauptplatz, which make up the city center, and the Schlossberg ("castle mountain"- Joel and I had dinner on the Schlossberg at a restaurant aptly named "Schlossberg". Austrians can't be expected to be clever all the time), where the Uhrturm (clock tower), is located and Wyatt was kind enough to take a picture of us. We had a great lunch with Wyatt, and while neither of us had really hung out with him in college (ok, to be honest, Wyatt and I had never even spoken before I got a facebook message from him about coming to Graz), it was a lot of fun. Wyatt even made me feel a little grateful for Austria when he told me about his heat going out and not being able to get his landlord to fix it. The landlord's solution was to tell him to put his over on high and leave the door open. Apparently there are several oven-gas-related explosions in Bucharest every winter.

Joel and I also spent a day at Schloss Eggenberg, a castle right outside of Graz that has a surprisingly nice Medieval art collection (triptychs, and birth plates, and tympanums, oh my!) and where peacocks roam the grounds. Who knew peacocks don't mind snow? And who knew that they don't like to snuggle? Every time I got close to them they moved away, and something told me that they're not only freakishly pretty, but also freakishly fierce and could mess a girl up. Sort of like Ellie Bear.

It was really good to get to show Joel around Graz and to give him a point of reference for when I tell him about things going on around the town, in my college courses, and at both of my schools. He's also now experienced first-hand the difficulties that stem from being someone who only likes ham when Uncle Sonny's cooking it and living in a country where even the turkey is "turkey ham" and older people's musk literally reeks of eau de pork. I'll end with a picture of Joel and his beard enjoying a frothy brew because, although his face might tell you otherwise, he was really happy in this moment.

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.