Wien... er, Vienna

I´ve been thinking a lot about how I got here. Not too much, now. I´ve been thinking a lot in general. But much of that pensive space is occupied by what it took to get me here, keep me here, and make here worth getting to and staying in. Money is big. Money money money, all the time, everyday, everything. When I spending it I´m thinking about how much I have, how much I have spent, and what my present purchase will prevent me from buying in the future. When I´m not spending it, I rejoice. My body eases, my mind ceases its restless quivering, I delight. If any of this sounds vaguely avaricious and worrying too you, you aren´t alone. My preoccupation with my finances during my holiday has been a source of constant anguish. I feel dirty every time I pinch a penny, but foolish and vapid every time I let one go. Does anyone else have this problem? When you travel, do you worry more about money than when you don´t?

I think all this financial worry is caused because, in the end, it has been money and the saving of money that has gotten me here, and the saving of money is a hard habit to quit. I have only recently kicked it, and only with the help of some individuals whom I thank and will thank profusely. Ahem: Thank you profusely. I no longer think of money, and am free to focus on that which money acquires me. Strangely, I am spending much less. Perhaps it has to do with my current surroundings.

Oh yes, I can´t forget that. Let me get to it, then.

Behold, the majesty of Wien!!

Er... Vienna. Whatever.

I have been in or near Vienna for the last week, staying with the Reitmeier´s in a suburb called Gablitz. I met their son Tobias, who is the boy in the foreground below, in Dublin about two months ago. We were both staying in the strangest hostel I have yet been, strange because so many people used it as an actual home, staying there in Dublin for 3 month work periods. All other hostels have been for tourists. Spencer and I struck up and conversation with Tobias, BG to his friends, and his friend Thomas, Bomel to his friends, and we spent a night drinking in Dublin with an Australian named Mark. The conversation was my second favorite subject, comparative politics, school systems, political bodies, taxes, health care, etc. etc. Maintaining contact with BG, I finally arrived in the greater Vienna area where I was greeted by my one time friend, who promptly took me back to his family´s house where I have been staying gratis for the last week and a half. Er, sorry, haven´t given you that picture yet. Here is BG -

He is the boy. The girl is his younger sister, Ines, whom I will regard in a moment. The happy domestic shot after is the Reitmeiers in totum. I have come to regard the man in the far left seat as my Austrian father, the woman sitting across as my Austrian mother, the two wonderful children as my Austrian brother and sister, and there in the front is my Austrian grandma. These do not, of course, replace my American family members in any way. The next shot is their horrible cat Felix, and their yard and garden. The last shot is the small house they have given me to live in. Yeah, you read right. The small house.

This is only the start of their immense, world smashing hospitality. I am, I believe I have told you, been reading the bible. Inside the old testament especially is a plethora of advice about guest/host relations, the rewards of proper hospitality and punishments for the shirking of this job. I also know that the Greeks to were big on proper hospitality. Zeus was known to call upon houses in the night as a poor smelly beggar. Proper reception would result in riches and happiness. You can guess what a cruel send off would result in (ends in -ightning). My ancient history proffesor went on and on and on about why guest/host rights were so important in the ancient world. I am well versed in its many customs, reasons for being, etc.

My point being: This family would pass the guest/host test with flying friggin colors.

I feel like a king. A freeloading, useless, non-working king. I am brought gourmet food three times a day. I am given clean linen, my clothes washed, my many and sundry needs attended to. Coffee is given proffered to me WHENEVER I enter the kitchen. My tourists fares are all paid for. My head, I am sure, would be annointed in fragrant oils daily if such were the modern custom. Just now as I was writing, the house matron brought me, unasked, a giant cup of pudding. Pudding! This is after her son prepared me coffee and their daughter hung a hammock for me. Last night I was cooked delicious wienerschnitzel. The previous was homemade zucchini soup, zucchini from their family garden. Lunches are the finest salamis and austrian cheeses. Desserts are exquisitly prepared tiramisus, apple strudels, sugared baked apricots so fragrant and delicious that even their vicious, unpredictable cat Felix must investigate.

Oh Reitmeiers! How can I even begin to thank your immense hospitality? How can I begin to thank any of the many people who have subtly and beautifully influenced my vacation, or caused it to be possible, or lengthened it, or by a mere few words or a whispered nocturnal conversation made it fine and memorable? Its all too much for me. So many people have come together, Conspired! Conspired! to make my three months possible and good. I am feeling grateful. I wish this were the old days when I could just sacrifice a bull or five in thanks. As it stands, my work to repay my cosmic good fortune and those blessed agents of it will be much more... tricky.

Anyway, Vienna. Where to begin?

If the Reitmeiers constitute my Austrian family, then these are my Austrian friends. Normally, in any one place, I have small party of friends, but they are often disconnected, one from Australia and one from Hungary. Also, sadly, they are almost never from the area I am in. I meet french in Hungary, Hungarians in Croatia, Finnish in Slovenia, Australians EVERYWHERE. These friends, though, truly are a cohesive group, and truly local. They have grown up together. They have shared references and inside jokes. They are attached by shared interests and likes. Also, they, collectively, have invited me to be, for a short time, one of them. I even occupy my own place: I am the goofy foreign guy. I am... The American. Lets talk about comparative culture.

Vicki, above, is demonstrating a popular sign among the youth of Austrian: The throwing up of the horns. Common uses are during rock concerts, good times,and immediately following any type of shennanigan. I am, apparently, amused. Next, Ines demonstrates an example of intercultural communication. I have taken my American knowledge of this popular international hand signal and added my own, American, flavor to it. Behold, cultural exchange at its finest-

Too Much Rock for One Hand.

My Austrian friends seem to love this new gesture. I am hoping that, two months after my return, I will watch some broadcast of an international show in Austria and seem all the crazy cool kids doing this. Additionally, liking dark humor, they love dead baby jokes, and I am delighted too learn that my three in-poor-taste pick-up lines are also in favor. Alas, I have it seems struck again. There are so many girls here whose shirts are cough cough becoming on them.

But it hasn´t all been hanging out with my new friends in Gablitz. There has been Wien proper. Below is Saint Stephen´s Cathedral. I am not sure if this is the same Saint Stephen as Saint Stephen´s Basillica in Budapest. But anyway, here you have it. I would show you the inside of it as well, but for some reason pictures indoors almost always end up grainy and unfocused. If the indoor area is small enough, the flash solves this problem (though causes many others), but for an indoor as large as one of these immense european cathedrals I run into problems my little flash can´t solve.

The tower, next to the cathedral, goes up about 167 meters, and I climbed... most of it. You can see by the scaffolding that they´re doing some work. Whatever. Inside, the cathedral is probably one of the most imposing that I´ve been in. The Basillica in Budapest was much warmer, softly lit, but this one was hard stone, dark colors. I don´t think I like it as much. The church in Zagreb remains my favorite.

Below, one of my new friends, Dominic, showed me one example of his humble collection of old cars. He even let me drive it for awhile, which was very... interesting. It did not have all the much power, and the clutch was built into the dashboard. Furthermore, reverse came first in the order of gear changes, which means that every other gear was on the opposite side that I am used too. Very confusing, but now I can say that I´ve driven around the Austrian countryside in a 1930s car. I´m like Indiana Jones! Spencer, who likes this stuff more than I did, got a kick out of this. Perhaps he will write about it. Oh, here´s another interesting thing I learned about Austria, that has to do with cars. All the driving schools in Austria are private, unlike ours, where I believe some are private and some are public. I learned to drive after school as part of my high school for instance. How much did we pay for that? Its been such a long time, I can´t remember. Regardless, it take about 1500 euros for an Austrian to get his or her drivers license. About 2000 dollars. And there are people out there that think privatization is a good thing.

It doesn´t really matter to me though, because, in Wien, I learned to levitate. Yeah, anyway... art!

The first picture is me, before the Belvedere, one time residence of the great Prince Eugen, general of the Hapsburg emperors, slayer of Turks, descendant of the Roman hero-generals, etc. etc., now spacious art museum housing Wien´s most impressive art collection (which is saying a lot. This isn´t Seattle with one big art museum. There are many other hefty art collections in Wien). The second picture is the entry foyer for the Belvedere and Ines, including because I found it to be a pleasing picture. I was not so interested in seeing many art museums, but my hostess mentioned, in passing, that Gustav Klimt was from Austria and had many of his works hanging in the Belvedere. Including, I asked, excitement rising, "The Kiss?" I think so, was the reply. "The Kiss" is one of my favorite paintings, and to stumble across it here was fantastic. For it alone my entire vacation is made worthwhile. And I didn´t know even it was in Wien. So now I have seen one of my favorite paintings, and picked up a few more that I really enjoyed. "Hunting on the Nile," "The Evil Mothers," "The Exile of Hagar," and a landscape called "Sea Storm on the something something coast." Whatever, I have written all my favorites down and emailed the names to myself, so maybe I can find them again on the Internet. And unlike girls I have met, I won´t expect them to email me back, and so will not be disappointed by an empty inbox. But lets see, what else did I do? Oh yes, opera.

These are pictures of the annual Rathaus (city hall) film festival, where they set up an enormous screen outside the city hall, shut down its municipal functions, and show for free movies, filmed operas, and other such things. The day I saw it, they were playing a film recording of Tosca, an opera which I will add to my list of operas that I really like. The music, especially. Though it had a lot of rather forgettable musical sections, those that were memorable I don´t think I´ll forget soon. I have been humming them as I meander, awe-struck by my good fortune, around the greater Wien area. The film festival also have a section with food and drink from all over the world, which people partake of liberally, sampling here and there, but which I neglected because I had already been fed by my hosts and was stuffed to bursting. The tall building is the city hall itself, which I found to be an engaging and impressive structure, not the biggest or most awe-inspiring that I´ve seen, but somehow I liked it almost more than any other secular building I´ve yet seen. It perhaps had something to do with what a good mood I was in. Speaking of impressive -

While the Belvedere was large, having been the residence of Prince Eugen, beloved general of the Hapsburg emperors, conqueror of the Turks, descendant of the Roman hero-generals, blah blah blah, Shurnbrun castle, pictured above, was the residence of the Hapsburg emperors themselves, including Maria Theresa, who was famous for some reason... yeah. The first picture is a view from the base of the castle, looking up at the Gloriette. The second picture is from the top of the Gloriette, looking down on the castle. The grounds between are filled with sights, and the surrounds are a massive park. Everything is so large, and there are so many different things to see, that even though Shurnbrun is a major tourist attraction, there is enough space so that one may be consumed, accidentally, by of a chattering pack of Japanese tourists, cameras flashing, only to be roughly expelled five minutes later into a haunted, lost garden utterly empty of human life. A mossy statue of a greek hero stands in the corner, a dove perched on his sword. The wind sweeps the trees, a light misty rain cools the air, and suddenly you are in a forbidden land, silent and austere. A moment later, a child runs laughing across your view, and you smile and continue on your way.

The oldest zoo, I am told, in the world is in this immense lawn, built before the founding of the Republic by one of the emperors because of his wife´s love of animals. Also one of two zoos in europe with pandas. Go figure. And there is a hedge maze, not so big or tall, with one of the best and coolest playgrounds I have ever seen in my life. Each piece of play equiptment is built with some facet of human imagination in mind. The bird that Spence and I are perched on at the beggining of this entry, for instance, is one of the best. Would that we had had this playground when I was a kid in Seattle. I would never have forgotten it, though I guess I remember my own, humble Seattle playgrounds well enough. Enough about Vienna. The last thing-

I was going to tell you about Ines. More precisely, that she does side saddle riding, and her school had an exhibition of the pasttime while I was here. Above is Ines and her friend, whose name slips my mind but whose uniform I prefer. I won´t say that the exhibition was the most exciting thing that I´ve seen in Europe, but it was definently illuminating. I never really got the... the... art direction of the victorian era. I never understood what was so compelling about the setting of Pride and Predjudice, and Wuthering Heights, and Vanity Fair, and all that crap. But, just like my trip to a good old southern plantation manor left me with an understanding of how a people could have fought, died, and ultimately lost for a way of life, so too did Ines´sidesaddle riding leave me with an understanding of what was so damn compelling about Victorian era refinement and dignity. Its that girls´riding uniforms are pretty damn hot!

Anyway, this has been a long entry, but I hope it will make up for my lack of posting all this week. I have been meaning to get back to making smaller posts more often, but it is a little difficult to do so and I have found that making large posts less often is easier on my creativity. Still, though, I think we can all agree that small posts more often is probably more enjoyable. I will try to do so in the future.

Miss you all.

But I am staying in Europe for 11 extra days, until the 17th.

Shrug.