Dance, Monkey, Dance!

Every week seems to carry with it a lesson. This week I learned that shame is a luxury you just don't have in foreign countries.

Example 1) When people ask if they should speak English or German with me, I usually ask that we speak German so I can practice (and validate my degree, but that's another story). We then go on to have a fairly nice, if considerably choppy on my part, conversation in German. This exchange has taken place between me and many, many people, including teachers from both the gymnasium and fashion school, students I've met at the university, and my landlady.

I was proud of myself for asking to speak in German, as most Austrians are VERY eager to practice their English. More than once after people hear my American accent I've become engaged in a battle of wills in which I speak German and am responded to in English for at least a few minutes. At first I took the easy way out and spoke English, but as I assimilate more and more I become more Austrian and therefore more direct and assertive (read: throw my manners out the window) and have been more persistent. If you're keeping track of my daily struggles and have turned this into something not only personal but also patriotic like I have (with every small victory I tell myself I'm making my country proud), this would bring the score up to something like Austria: 483 the US:2 (we first scored when I successfully fought Mrs. "We've Never Done It that Way" to change my schedule).

I was feeling very pleased with myself, empowered even, after convincing a few Austrians to speak English with me. That is, until I made the mistake of looking up "to practice" in an online dictionary. I was really just wondering if the "u" in the German word had umlauts or not, but was confused when the search results didn't return the word "übeln", but rather "üben."

This may not seem like that big of a difference, and it wouldn't have been if the word "übel" didn't mean "evil." While the verb "übeln" doesn't really exist and is basically a word I made up, it would still be understood as the verb form of "übel." Instead of telling people that I want to practice my German, I've been telling them that I want to speak German in order to be evil. AND NO ONE CORRECTED ME! OR EVEN LAUGHED (remember what I said about Austrian humor?)!

Example 2) The other day I was in a class of 13 year olds, who I made the mistake of telling that I spoke a little German. A pre-pubescent boy in the back asked me to say some ridiculously long German word with lots of umlauts and long strings of consonants. At first I had the urge to say no because we were in English class and should speak English. I reconsidered, though and realized that I couldn't expect the students to try to say difficult words in English (or even just the "th" sound) if I weren't willing to do the same and decided to set an example by trying to say this word.

I cleared my throat, mentally prepared, and in my best guttural Austrian accent repeated the word back to the boy, ready to pat myself on the back and thinking I had done a pretty good job.

"Aw, that was sweet," he replied with a sympathetic and amused smile.

What conclusion can we draw from these two examples? That to the Austrians I'm an endless source of entertainment, that's what. I can only imagine that they didn't correct my "evil" mistake because they were either afraid of me, or more likely, they really enjoyed it, just as the 13 year old loved listening to the poor American mangle the German language.

It's almost as if people seek entertainment from me. I'm not sure if this is because they watch too many American movies and TV shows and therefore equate all things American with all things entertaining, or if I'm just inherently amusing, but in this country I'm akin to a dancing bear. This is humbling and a great chance for me to laugh at myself and practice self-correction, as the Austrians don't seem to be willing to help me with either. Austria: 484 the US: 2

Yea Österreich's Right

While I know that there are many differences between the Appalachian Mountains and the Alps, and while I'm very well aware that Tennesse is thousands of miles away from Austria, every once in a while something catches my eye and I can't help but be reminded of Sewanee.

These may seem to be a bit of a stretch, but here are some examples...

The first picture is the view of Cowan from the cross at Sewanee, and the second is a little Austrian farming willage. Sure, the mountains in Tennessee roll more gently, and sure, the picture of Cowan is admittedly bad, but if you're at all familiar with the view in Sewanee just work with me.





While I rarely went on hikes at Sewanee (I was too busy having quiet time [read: napping] or reading German literature [read: Wikipediaing it]), I did walk from Morgan's Steep to the Cross quite a few times, and a few overhangs on the hike up to the Rosaliengrotte in Hemmaberg reminded me of it. While the Austrians were busy sexually harrassing each other with jokes about virgins I was busy taking pictures. Picture 1 is Sewanee, picture 2 is Austria.
Even the most amateur geologist would probably be quick to point out that the two rock formations are completely unrelated, but to me there's something very similar about them.





Maybe it's because it was one of the first places I really enjoyed being outside (the Dust Bowl in our backyard wasn't the best introduction to nature), or maybe it's because it's the place that's most recent and fresh in my memory, but I see elements of Sewanee everywhere. Rest assured, though, that any feelings of homesickness (or Sewanee-sickness) accompanying these moments is quickly cured with a round of emotional eating (this week's session featured a tub of Spar brand "Schoko Becher" ice cream eaten using a cookie as a spoon).

Einführung in die Gemütlichkeit

Yesterday I went on a 13 1/2 hour long excursion to Kärnten (Carinthia) with the teachers from the Akademisches Gymnasium (the college-track high school I'm teaching at). About 3/4 of what we saw was lost on me, due to a combination of tour guides who spoke in light-speed dialect and extreme tiredness on my part, but I did learn a lot about Austria and what it means to be Austrian, which in general seems to be an elusive topic.

The focus of the day seemed to be on Gemütlichkeit, which was a word I didn't really fully understand until today. We don't have a corresponding term in English, but I knew it meant something like "contentedness" or "comfort." Today I discovered the more nuanced aspects of its definition, and because we visited SO MANY places, I'll use them to help unpack the details.

We started at Hemmaberg. Because I can read a clock I know that this place is about an hour and a half from Graz by bus, but I don't know any of the background info that was communicated over the loudspeaker. It was up in the mountains (big surprise) and had a very Heidi feel to it (Gemütlichkeit, Evidence 1: hills that are alive... with the sound of music).

Here we went to a museum. This museum was dedicated to displaying artifacts from the excavation of 5th century churches and other buildings, but I didn't figure that out until we hiked up a large hill to actually see the ruins. The apse of one of the churches is to the upper left. Something was said about there being two churches here because of the early debate between the Roman and Aryan churches (thank you Dr. Huber for equipping me with enough church history to pick up on that even in German), but I don't know any details about that... or anything else that happened yesterday. Here you can see the apse of one of the churches, and the hills in the background (cue Julie Andrews). There was also a small Gothic, white-washed church (the Pilgrimage Church of Saint Hemma) that made for great pictures both inside and out.

I also learned a (very) little bit of folklore today. Here's what I caught from the 10 minute story:
Once upon a time there was a virgin being chased through a forest by a man. She fell down a hole and a holy person caught her. The end.

Today that hole is called the Rosaliengrotte (from context clues I learned that the virgin's name was Rosalie) and houses a small chapel (not visible in the picture). It's said that if a virgin jumps down it she will land unharmed. This was a little too superstitious for me (which is saying a lot, considering that I rub a Madonna and Child medallion during flights and believe in the healing power of my green comfort cardigan), but the Austrian teachers loved it (Gemütlichkeit, Evidence 2: folklore and tradition). The men proceeded to make awkward jokes about pushing the women down the well, and I lamented the fact that Austrian humor is no better than German humor (note: sexual harrassment is not an aspect of Gemütlichkeit).

Austria would probably claim to be the birthplace of Gemütlichkeit, but as I learned today it is probably also the birthplace of kitsch. Even more interestingly, the two terms are NOT mutually exclusive. The house pictured below is the private residence of a man who is apparently committed to collecting the kind of concrete lawn statues you buy on the side of the highway (or in the parking lot of Harp's Pets when they're not selling "real" Omaha steaks), but couldn't decide if he liked Victorian or baroque architecture more. I think I heard that the house is full of Elvis on Velvets, the owner probably wears socks with sandals, and I'm sure there was a mirror ball somewhere in the yard. In short, it was tacky. BUT, it had a gemütlich feel to it (Gemütlichkeit, Evidence 3: the symbiosis of comfort and kitsch). The Gasthaus we ate lunch at was very similar to this, with a roaring fire in a metal and electric fireplace and bathroom sinks made out of whiskey barrels. A more familiar example of this aspect of Gemütlichkeit would be Hummel figurines. They're kitschy, yes, but darn it if they don't add an extra ounce of coziness to the floral-patterned living rooms of grandmothers across the US.

After lunch we had a complete change of pace and visited a private collection of modern Austrian art, housed in the Museum Liaunig (named after the man who owns the art) in Neuhaus, about 30 minutes away. There wasn't much Gemütlichkeit there, and I didn't really get much out of it because 1)modern art is almost always lost on me and 2) at this point I was counting down the hours until I could speak English again, so I won't say much about it, but will post a picture. The building itself was interesting, as it was mostly underground and extended out from a small hill over the road.

All in all it was a good, informative, and interesting day. I learned the meaning of at least one more German word, so I'll file it as a success. If you still don't understand Gemütlichkeit, think of sitting by a fire (whether it be live or recorded on VHS) on a cold winter's day, curled up with your favorite Hummel figurine and a warm cup of Kaffee, gazing at a sweeping Alpine vista in the company of a few of your favorite Austrians. Mirror balls and kitschy houses aside, after a day of experiencing it, I can see why they like it.

Massacres and Spray Cheese

These are two things that my class of 16 year olds called out when I asked them what came to mind when I said "the United States."
I had expected the other responses, which were stereotypical but at least a little more representative. Things like "driving everywhere", "Obama", and "McDonald's." I even understood when two different boys in two different classes yelled, without hesistation, "FAT PEOPLE!"
I tried to dig a little deeper and find out why they viewed massacres and spray cheese (how did they even know that phrase?) as symbols of the US. It wasn't too hard to make the connection between Cheez Whiz and fat people, but massacres required a little more investigating. I started asking the girl who equated my country with the slaughter of many questions.

"Like the St. Valentine's Day Massacre?"

Blank stare.

"More like school shootings?"

Another blank stare, followed by a moment silence.

Finally, she looked up at me and said, "Like when guns stuck out of cars and shot people."

With the help of a few more hit or miss questions I figured out that she was talking about gangsters, bank robbers, etc. in the 20s and 30s. To me gangsters, the mafia, etc. would be a somewhat obscure aspect of American culture, but I learned later in the day that it is not.

In another class, as we were discussing whether or not tanning beds should be outlawed, a boy explained to me that they should not. Doing so, he said, would only lead to underground, speak-easy style tanning salons, and more trouble, just like when they outlawed alcohol in the US and lots of people went blind and the mafia was started.

I've decided that the idea of alcohol being outlawed is such an outrageous and nonsensical idea to Austrians that prohibition and all aspects of history surrounding it are well known over here.

I can't really say that it's moments like these that make me really like being a teaching assistant so far (which I do), but they definitely make for good stories later.

For Those of You Who Don't Think There Are Mosquitoes in Austria...

... you're wrong. So very wrong.

Adaptation

I've been in Austria for three weeks now. That's 21 days. 21 days of eating cold cuts and cheese for breakfast, 21 days of shopping at stores that close really early and aren't open on Sundays, and 21 days of taking the bus or tram (or walking ridiculously long distances) to get anywhere. In short, 21 days of adapting to Austrian life.

To say that I'm struggling to understand the Austrian accent would be an understatement. In an email Dr. Zachau told me this was to be expected ("Denken Sie nur an Schwarzenegger," he said), but it's frustrating to the point of embarrassment. Especially when I have to tell people I was a German major in college.

But before I dive any deeper into that I should probably back up and start at the beginning.

I spent the first two weeks being oriented. Ironically, though the logistics of the orientations (one for Fulbrighters and one for teaching assistants) prevented me from doing any the things they kept telling me I needed to do. For example, the Fulbright orientation was held in Vienna, which meant that I couldn't register at the Meldeamt (which you're technically required to do within 3 days of arriving in Austria) because I was 2 1/2 hours away from Graz. The orientation for teaching assistants was much longer, had a lot more ice breakers (I don't care what your favorite fruit is, stranger!), and had the all-around feel of summer camp. And we know how I feel about summer camp.

All that's way in the past, though, and I just completed my first week of teaching and class. At first I was a little nervous about getting my schedule worked out, as I would need certain times off to take classes at the university and Austrians aren't exactly known for being flexible. It all worked out in the end (tip: don't take "We've never done it that way before" as an answer. It's not an answer. It's just a verbal admittance of obstinacy, and if you keep pushing for it you might finally get one lesson moved to Thursday so you can take that Intro to Slavic Studies course on Mondays) and I have Wednesdays and Fridays off.

My first lesson was at the fashion school (Modeschule). I didn't actually know I was going to be teaching that day, I just thought I was going to learn my way around the school. But when the teacher I was with asked, "Would you like to teach today?" I didn't want to look like an unprepared American fool, feigned a smile, and said, "Of course!"

So I introduced myself to the class and told the girls (it was 20 16 year old girls) that they could ask me anything they wanted. They sat there silently, which I (mis)read as them being embarrassed to speak English to a native speaker. I asked if they would feel more comfortable after they saw how bad my German was, they said yes, I spoke a few sentences, they laughed heartily at me, and then went back to being silent. Not the reaction I had hoped for. Then I told them they could write down any questions they had for me or topics they would like to discuss later. Some of them wrote things down, and enough of them eventually started talking that they managed to ask me three times if I had a boyfriend and twice as to whether or not he would visit. I should probably also note that these girls dress in black with neon accents and have shaggy haircuts. They most definitely do not shop at Gap.

I did manage to hustle myself a babysitting job from one of the English teachers by dropping hints like "Being an au pair was my back up plan for this year" and "I babysat all through high school and college." I didn't even have to drop the "I'm CPR certified" line before she asked me if I'd like to practice my German by watching her kids some time.

So I'm finally starting to mold my Austrian life, but I've come to accept that carving out my niche is a very slow process. At first I felt displaced, very lost, and very confused. I thought I pretty much understood how things worked. But things work very differently over here, which is surprising (I moved to Austria, not Mars). The man at the bank didn't explain to me that I needed to come back in a few days to pick up my PIN, I still don't really understand how to sort the trash (are my yogurt containers paper or plastic?), and I have to see a pharmacist to get ibuprofen. You'd think I would have figured all this out in Germany last summer or during European Studies, but an entirely different mentality and to-do list come with living in another country for a year. If anything, adapting is serving to remind me that there are no universals, only particulars. Through trial and (lots of) error I'm starting to figure out the Austrian particulars.