Passau Hbf

Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in morning, sailor take warning.

I am on my journey to Berlin and everything was going well until I found out that I can only take the snail-slow trains to Berlin, which pushes my arrival time back three hours. GAH. I will also need to change trains five times. Cross your fingers for me!

Fortunately, there is a really nice computer center right here at the train station. Enough time purchased to shoot my host an 'I will be terribly late' email along with a short blog update. (7 minutes of time remaining)

Riding trains in Austria can get a bit hairy. For one, the small trains are more like buses: one car and a button to push when you want to get off. There is also a 50% chance that your stop won't be called out. I sit a bit white-knuckled through those rides, especially when I don't know what my stop looks like. Everything else is alright. But I am a bit relieved to be in Germany. As long as there won't be any cancelations or delays... *knock on wood*

Time is running out... well, I wish you all safe travels and good times during the holidays!

Tis the Season

Why is there a pile of soggy tissues on the floor? The answer is simple. A movie. Gerard Butler: the Phantom and the Stranger not plays the Dead Husband in this new movie that I won't accept as the coffee-table romance that it might possibly be. Anyway, the movie brought James Blunt back out of the closet:



But what about Austria? For one thing, there's a beautiful layer of snow on the ground. For another, it's nearly Christmas!

Christmas season in Austria:
1.) the Glühwein Stand: a little wooden hutch that sells a motley of hot alcoholic beverages: Glühwein, Punsch, and Glühmost. This time of year, the police are on "special" alert! I think nearly 200 people a week are arrested for drunk driving in my province. Merry Christmas! Stands for mulled wine are usually found in Christkindlmarkts or Weihnachtmarkts. At these places, all manner of food and nick-nackery can be purchased. Usually, there is music and a lively atmosphere. Quite the place to be and they're all over Germany and Austria (I'm not sure about other European countries).

2.)the Weihnachts Feier: the Christmas party! I've had four: archery club, two with teachers, one with the other TAs. Each one was extremely fun. We went to pub restaurants and ate giant meals together. I had spaetzle, bratl in the round, duck, and schnitzle. The thing is, my stomach sorta revolted against all the rich food last night resulting in quite a sick Katie.

3.) the Christkind: Santa Clause doesn't exist over here. There is a St. Nicholaus, who I mentioned earlier. He comes on the 5th of December with the Krampus. But presents are delivered by the Christkind who is, in theory, the Christ child. The only fuzzy logic to this is that the Chrirstkind is a he/she/it. Some of my students argue that it's a girl and others that it's a boy. Either way, it's a slightly angelic creature that delivers the presents, WHICH the children open on the eve of the 24th. Lucky little sods don't have to suffer through that last night of anticipation. ;)

Other than those little bits, I haven't noticed many obvious differences. The Austrians love their real Christmas trees but not the gaudy, tacky bits of Christmas like inflatable Santas and Snowmen. Christmas here seems just a bit more natural, less bought. The snow certainly helps although it's likely to melt within the next few days. Austrians also love their Christmas cookies: cooking 10 varieties in one day and not cooking anymore for the rest of the season - sorta like a burnout.

I'll try and send off one last post before I leave for Berlin. Happy Holidays!

In the classroom

The sky is as gray as my sink faucet. It's 10am and it doesn't seem like Austria is willing to wake up this Saturday morning. Plans were to go to Salzburg but I think my Italian neighbor is sick; she hasn't emerged from her room yet. No worries, I can easily amuse myself in Ried as ride the train the two hours to Salzburg. There's always next Thursday or Saturday for that trip.

The weekends where I stay are a test of my mettle and personal resolve. Mainly because the hot water isn't hot until noon (somehow I always forget to shower on Friday when it's still warm).

This week has been up and down in the classroom. I witnessed twice as two of my favorite teachers chewed out students. Both students were girls. In the one case, the student had spent 20minutes out of class when she had only been allowed 10. The girl then sobbed through 15 minutes of class. I can't stand that kind of outright suffering. Something in me wants to rush over and give comfort, assurance, or encouragement. Her racking sobs were ignored by the teacher and other students and I gradually realized that this sort of thing happens frequently - with this student and possibly others. It was hard for me to ignore the girl's sadness.

The other situation was when a teacher singled out a student who did particularly bad on a recent exam. He addressed her very directly in front of class and told her that she's repetitively making silly mistakes with word usage. The girl silently hung her head and wiped away tears; the suffering was just as loud in my mind.

Harsh, maybe. But this is necessary. This kind of teaching makes you stronger. Sadness and the battle to overcome that sadness makes you so strong. I have trouble recalling anything similar in my own class experience. Oh. Yeah. Damn, except I did. *winces* It was terrible. And I did break down and cry. But if you can't survive a teacher's criticism, how can you survive life? Delicate little flower that I was - I couldn't handle the weight of a water droplet. Except I'm a little stronger now and I know how to handle criticism. I think criticism should be taught. It's not a weapon, it's a tool. Like when you whittle. You cut away everything that doesn't look like a sea lion. Criticism: cut away everything that doesn't look like perfect English.

Anyway, I wish I had the courage and self confidence to criticize so assiduously.

This morning I did some thinking. And wrote a little cold, analytical nonsense that has nothing to do with Austria. If you want something to read, feel free and do comment. But the Austrian segment ends here.




To love is a verb and so is to hate. I think that most people forget this. “I love you,” people say. Or, “I hate your guts.” But for me, these verbs only have substance when they are backed by action. For example, someone makes you breakfast, brings it to you in bed on a tray with a little red flower, kisses you on the forehead, and says, “I love you.” There’s meaning in that.

Conversely, your brother throws your wallet in the toilet after you wouldn’t change the TV channel. So you rip up his baseball card collection and say (or shout), “I hate you.” But he’s your brother so maybe you don’t really hate him at all. You hate your wallet being in the toilet.

That makes me wonder. If someone brings you breakfast in the morning, do you love the act or the person or both? If Fidel Castro brought you breakfast in the morning and said, “I love you,” you’d probably jump out the bedroom window, right? If it’s your boyfriend or husband, he gets more credit at the love bank.

If Adolph Hitler threw your wallet in the toilet, you might shout, “I hate you” or you might just add the act to an already endless list of evil deeds. It’s quite possible that Hitler would throw your wallet in the toilet. And yet the idea of Castro carrying a tray of French toast and orange juice seems far fetched. In conclusion: love can’t exist without a personal foundation, either created as fantasy in our minds or in reality. I can say: “I love this band. They connect with my soul.” But I have trouble saying: “I loath and despise Hitler.” I hate the actions but I have trouble hating the man. We’ve never met (although I certainly don’t like him).

The depth and complexity of the issue is boundless. Take, for example, unconditional love. Does it really exist? Can love really exist without the verb, the action: to love? Can hate exist without the verb, the action: to hate? Can you unconditionally hate someone?

I wonder if unconditional love is something unobservant people tell themselves. I love the way you kiss me goodbye in the morning, the way you do the dishes without being asked, or the way you laugh after a bad joke. Little things equate to unconditional love. But unconditional love is different from parental love, motherly love. It’s true that some mothers don’t love their babies but, on the whole, they do. Even when you don’t see that person or child everyday, you still love them because of the love-credit you’ve built up with them over the years.

Does love-credit exist? Humans have very intricate memories. Because of memory, we unconsciously build up a credit list in our minds of ‘love’ and ‘hate’ – sort of like Santa Clause and his “naughty or nice” list. Therefore, that list can one day expire or be used up. The love-credit can be drained completely and thus the love for another person. When you overdraw on your love-credit account – by having an affair, for example – a deficit is formed with the visage of hate. Breaking trust burns love-credit, tickets to your favorite band in concert create love-credit.

Memory. That’s why goldfish make very good, calming pets. Seven seconds of memory? That leaves no time to hate – no time to love – only time to swim. No love-credit. Only very quick flings with the plastic plants.

Protestants Slouch

Last night I had an experience.

It all started at archery practice. Mondays I usually have ski gymnastics but this Monday was a Catholic holiday - the birth of Mary - although I never had the thought to attend church. Ski gymnastik was canceled so I went to archery instead. Practice went really well. I'd been suffering from a wave of arrow insanity for the past two weeks (my arrows developed a color phobia and would avoid the yellow and red center) but on Monday, I finally "got my groove back".

As we were packing up to go home, one of the instructors (the one that has my last name as a first), asked me if I liked classical music. Hells yeah! He then said something in German, which I translated as: "big church in town _______ concert _______ Mozart_______7:30pm." At the center of Ried, there is a big Catholic church that's the giant red ruby in the crown of the town, I would say. So I ran home, dropped off the bow, ran to the main square, and grabbed a döner kebab for dinner. Then I went to the church.

I had never been inside the church, although I walk by it nearly everyday. Inside, it was breathtaking: tall ceilings, huge murals, and a giant alter of gold where the priests stash the Eucharist(I think). The ambiance was tainted only by two chandeliers of dangling bits of cut glass. Trust me, it looked like something you'd find in a child's barbie house.

OH. I NEARLY FORGOT. They got me again - the Austrians. Remember the mousetrap bread in restaurants? I had the same experience in this church. As soon as I stepped inside, a delightful old and bent German woman pounced on me - offering a candle. Oh, isn't this nice, I thought, just like home. No sooner am I walking away, feeling touched and warm, then a wizened hand grips the corner of my arm. "Ein Euro, bitte." Crap, well, I can't really hand back the candle, could I? So I dug around in my pocket, feeling a bit like a clumsy thief caught, and handed over one Euro.

What I thought would just be a concert turned into a service with music interspersed. Suddenly, I realized the words I hadn't translated earlier when my archery instructor had spoken to me: musical mass, regular service. Ah, well. It was actually quite fun. Catholic services incorporate a lot of ritual so I had to follow along with the Austrians (who I suspect were following the two pews worth of nuns up front). At first I felt like the lamb, dressed up as a wolf, who had been invited to a costume party only to discover that everyone else wasn't pretending to be a wolf. I had about seven inches of pew for the perching - a flat board jutted from the back, forcing me forward and erect. After an hour of sitting, I theorized that kneeling is necessary relief for the spine - pious yet pleasant. Catholics must have very good posture. Oh, and the church wasn't heated. 150 year old stone church, mid December, Austria. I wasn't the only one who kept the hat and gloves.

The evening was capped by a march with our candles around the square outside. The throng of people was quite large and so a man with speakers broadcasted what the priest was saying to us in the back. Only the sound quality wasn't very good and I began to have a peculiar feeling. Imagine: dark, cold night, candles, throng of people marching, some chanting, crackly sound of German broadcasted loudly. UNSETTLING. I was nearly cracking up inside - ok, I was cracking up inside. How do I find myself in these situations? If I have one thing to say about myself, it's that I have had some interesting experiences.

The grand climax to the evening, that had my jaw ajar in blissful ecstasy, was the performance of a tuba/baritone quartet who serenaded the congregation from the open windows of a third story building. Amazing. If sound had a flavor, I would describe it as melted chocolate. Warm, strong, a real rush to the senses. This is better than anything Hollywood, I thought.

I really enjoyed it. I enjoy the discomfort (the harmless discomfort) of feeling out of place. How else can you learn if you don't DO things? And all I had to do was show up. And pay one euro. And freeze for a little bit. But that's time/money/comfort well spent. That's life.

Perchten and Passau

My search for the Krampus has born no fruit. Sadness. I searched in the city – but too early. That night, Friday, the archery club in Ried had its’ Christmas party and, as one of the members arrived, he said that he saw two Perchten marching down the street. A chill went down my spine – a feeling like the devil had been out looking for me but had brushed passed my hiding place. Suddenly, I felt like a rabbit safe in its’ hole.

One night a year not being enough, there will be another “Perchten Lauf” (march of Perchten) in early January. I plan to be ready.

The Christmas party with the members of the club was a lot of fun. I get on well with them and I wonder if I would get along with archery people at home. It’s something to look into. If I can build up some skill, I can fit in with any archery club all over the world. Did you know that archery in South Korea is like football in America? They are supposedly wicked good – having won at the Olympics. And archery in Japan is a whole different ball of wax. Anyway…

On Saturday, I woke with a slightly sick feeling, like the top of my brain was smoldering in the ashes of a fire. I lay dozing, debating for a while: I’d planned on visiting Passau, a nearby town in Germany, and as I contemplated my options, I realized that Saturday was still the only day I could visit. I rolled out of bed and caught a train at noon. My connecting train was canceled and a bus was called (times like those, I REALLY like my German skills). I’m glad of the bus, because the route was breathtaking. Hills, small villages with tiled roofs, rivers, houses and castles that loom out over the water – for the first time in weeks, I felt like I was in Austria (when, in reality, I was in Germany).

Cut scene. Side note: My students ask me all the time: What do Americans think of Austria? Bell number one rings: Sound of Music. My gut tells me that Austria should have hills. My town, on the other hand, is in the 10% of Austria that is as flat as a penny. Go figure. Go ten minutes in any direction and you will find hills. But where I am, you are out of luck. *big heartfelt sigh* The result: I don’t know where I am. The dialect tells me “Austria” but the landscape of town tells me “Ohio” (and not the cool bits of Ohio that snuggle with West Virginia – I mean the boring bits that high-five Indiana).

I miss the Appalachians and the dribbly hills that ooze down into my part of Pennsylvania. With hills and trees, you feel secure. It’s a hard feeling to describe –the land wraps around you, drawing you into safety. In western Ohio, the land arches its’ back (like that silly yoga pose) and pushes you out, away, and towards the sky.

I was really glad to be back in the hills. On top of that, Passau is a gorgeous city. I had about one and a half hours of good light so I ran around taking photos. Passau has so many secret places – small alleyways, tiny shops and cafes, and a waterfront. The huge building featured at the center of town is Stefan’s Dom (Stefan’s Cathedral). Inside, you will find Europe’s largest Church organ. Outside, there is a really cute Christmas market. I ran into a teacher and his family there and we chatted for a bit.

It got dark fairly quickly. I walked slowly back to the train station, browsing shops and windows. Three hours was enough in the cold and wet. It’s funny how things work out because, after the bus ride, I met the TA of that town while waiting for my train. We chatted and swapped phone numbers – sometimes I feel so far from everything but really, we’re not that far apart at all.

Now I am at home and will maintain a relaxing day. Btw, new photos are up!

Hay Day

A week to the day, I stumbled upon a group of students in the school lobby practicing traditional Austrian dance. Much to their chagrin, I caught some on video. Nowadays, whenever you see a video camera, camera, or cellphone taking video, you know that it's going to end up on Youtube:



It's the Christmas season: the students have lots of tests; the parents (mothers and grandmothers) are baking scores of cookies; and the young eagerly await St. Nicholas. St. Nicholas comes on or around the 6th of December, St. Nicholas' Day. In Germany, I had to clean my shoes and put them outside my door. The next day, I found them mysteriously stuffed with chocolate, nuts, and a mandarin orange. Austrians like to take things a little more personal.

St. Nicholas, instead of creeping around at night like he does in Germany, likes to make an appearance. He goes to schools, homes, the town square, and he's usually accompanied by 'bodyguards', called the Krampus. I had wondered why the majority of Austrian children were so well behaved. Apparently, the are scared out of their wits to do anything BUT be good. It could be worse. You could come from a the Salzburg area and have to face Perchten. Horns, homemade masks, and animal fleeces. Judging by the intricacy of some of the costumes, some blokes must spend a heck of a lot of time planning and constructing those things!

It's a nightmare! To think, I was afraid of clowns and Santa Clause at a young age. This leaves me to wonder: are Americans fraidy-cats? Would we gain from this tradition? Is being fearless (or lacking fear of the bizarre) a good thing?

The Krampus are usually young men and boys who chase after small children and pretty girls with sticks, beating them as they flee. The Perchten - I'm not sure what they do. Possibly the same but I would imagine that their looks are damaging enough.

Anyway, that's Friday and Saturday. What are you doing this weekend?

Like a Turtle

Up and out of my window, I can see only the tinniest wisp of cotton-white in the sky. The last day of November and I wonder if this will be the last day of clear skies for the next few months. I can't hazard to believe that - the outlook would be too grim.

The weather is fine and I haven't been exercising lately. Today I WILL take a walk(s). You know, I believe that I am my own worst enemy, because I can't do anything against myself. I am a grand champion at coercion, deception, and distraction. I'm as heavy as a mountain and as illusive as a pickle in the jar. If I say that I WILL take a walk, chances are that I MIGHT take a walk. Sometimes, that MIGHT even turns into WON'T - after I convince myself that it's too cold or tomorrow will suffice. Terrible. I am my own worst enemy.

I burnt myself out (in a good way) on Friday with human company. For the first time in over three months, I was with three Americans and talking natural English. We celebrated Thanksgiving together in a nearby town. Our first Thanksgiving on our own and the Turkey turned out great (aka not raw or burnt)and tasting faintly of the apple cider we had basted it in. Five hours of fun. I opted out of going for drinks - it occurred to me that I'd rather spend my money elsewhere. I went home instead, which turned out to be a good decision. I met one of my students on the train and we had a nice chat. She and her father drove me back to my place, thereby cutting my 20minute walk in the cold to a 4 minute drive. <3 Kindness and the random gesture of concern and selflessness. How often do you give and receive? Personally, I sometimes become too nervous to see clearly and miss the opportunity or become blind to the need for generosity. It's my new goal to calm down (alright, that's an OLD goal) and become more generous.

Day by day, we'll see. I've been dragging my feet on updating. The spice to write has left my brain. Sometimes, I'll be laying in bed, imagining a random character who's doing something brave/abnormal (like crawling through the mud or swimming in a red ocean). Did you realize, if the oceans were red, so would the sky? But the ideas are as quick and solitary as the click of a camera lens. They never make it to paper or computer pixels. Someday, I'd love to write a book with substance. Until then, my characters just have fun in the Land of Nowhere. And I'm left wondering if I should muster the courage to have my own adventures before I arrogantly write those for others. I'm too young to start writing. I haven't done enough yet. Traveling doesn't count. ;)

Austria is lit up like a giant Christmas tree! Today is the first day of Advent, the season of Christmas markets, mulled wine, and lights. My town is exceptionally beautiful. I can now answer my earlier post and point out what the beauty is: illumination. I took a video, because the photos don't show it very well. Posting later.

Well, I was starved for fresh air so I opened my window. Now my fingers are sluggish from the cold. I might go to the lobby to read in the sunlight. Enjoy your day and the sun or rain that it brings!

P.S. new artsy photos:

Once Upon an Austria

The Cynic vs. The Pessimist

Up and onward - let's keep talking about the recent past.

Last night I followed a teacher home, so meekly and quietly that a puppy would feel shame. Well, maybe not a puppy on a cold winter's night. More like a puppy on a warm summer evening. In any case, it was with lackluster energy. What I really need is a good argument. Somebody, come stir my brain!

Last night resulted in six hours of baking. We finished off five different sorts but one died (wasn't my fault, I swear!). I now have a full tin of cookies that will last me 3-4 weeks.

Things I learned:
°Cinnamon and nutmeg have 'happy' properties. Maybe Mom shouldn't have stopped dad from putting nutmeg on everything.
°Ah, almonds are very good for the digestive system.
°Austrians have a whole different baking vocabulary than the Germans.
°For cookies that didn't require eggs, we used a huge wooden board for the mixing and not a bowl. Messy fun!

Results:


My scarf is now finished. I had incorrectly ended it but my l33t teacher fixed it in about 5 minutes.

And then I had one of those sleepless nights where the brain runs mechanically and without rest. It was quite interesting - I had some very lucid dreams that were full of texture. I rarely get texture; my dreams are usually like bubbles. But the bad part of the night was getting up at 6am without having had any rest. Wherever my brain went in the dreaming world, I think it left itself there. Today, both my teachers canceled class but I opted to hang around for two hours and accompany the teacher who had me for baking. I just need to stay coherent until 9:20am. Must. Stay. Awa.... ...

Ah, but the main point of this post was: Two teachers have both argued with me over the difference between a pessimist and a cynic. But to me, they are one and the same: unhappy people.

Tired...

It was a long weekend spent in ways that I might or will divulge later. In the meantime, please enjoy this video of Austria on a snowy Sunday morning!

'Tis Not the Season

I realized that I've not yet given a very clear picture of my town. I've wandered far from the topic, around, and above. Let's face it, my town right now is not gorgeous. To call it "pretty" would be flattering. The skies are almost always gray and the weather is in that awkward pubescent state between cold and warm. The town is on the verge. On the verge of... The next few months will tell.

Of course, the town center is as it always was - beautiful. The architecture belies the course of the weather; constant and colorful, the center of the town remains the same. The main square is flanked by many old buildings of pastel colors. Quite a few have paintings, sculptures, or carvings worked into their facades. Whenever I sit on a bench beside the fountain at the center of the square, I feel like I'm sitting on a stage and watching as a play unfolds around me. Especially when I glance up at the statue standing proudly on a pedestal inside the fountain. He's a man with a flat face; proud, stoic, he glances off into the distance. His left hand rests on his belt and, in his right hand, he holds a staff. A staff topped by a shoe. A shoe!?

Back in the day, when everyone was taking a bite out of the Middle East as if it were the world's most delicious cake, the founder of my town found himself in a tough spot. On the battle field, the flagman was killed and the troops were loosing heart and the battle. In a fit of stubbornness and determination (and eccentricity), the founder of Ried took off his shoe and rammed it onto the end of his staff and waved it like a flag. This bizarre act inspired and invigorated the troops, who ran forth and vanquished the enemy. Huzzah! The King of the area known today as Austria granted the gentleman a huge chunk of land and titles in gratitude. Thus, Ried was born.

I like him. He was probably a cutthroat bastard who extorted his peasants and hanged women as witches but, in my mind, he will always be "that guy" who wildly rolled his eyes, used his shoe as a flag, and bellowed his determination incoherently at the enemy. It reminds me that sometimes, in the course of certain events, even a shoe can turn the course of battle.

Ski Gymnastik

I also didn't mention that I'm in a Ski Gymnastics club. Every Monday from 7-8pm, I get my dose of sweaty Austrian. From ages 14 to 74, a whole bunch of community members get together in a small gym and around a large square of blue wrestling mats lined up edge to edge, we do exercises that will prepare us for a rigorous winter of skiing.

Never judge a book by its cover, right? But my puritan background was aghast at the sight of manly flesh paraded before my eyes. You see, Austrians (and all Europeans) have a slightly different uptake on the human body. Rather than fear, cover up, and nonchalantly deny the fact that they have male and female parts, they flaunt. Imagine a rooster, proudly shaking his variegated tail feathers without a guilty conscience. Austrian men don't mind tight clothing. Preferably on the bottom. Spandex, I'm sure, made it's way into the Austrian language way before the English one. In fact, it must be from the Latin and Rome is pretty darn close to Austria. Relatively speaking.

All fear and loathing is but a distant thing; a part of myself that's long been dead, voicing thoughts only out of habit. I take this transparent monologue and listen like I listen to radio at work - with half a mind. It's funny and I'm sure a lot of you would chuckle with me just at the sheer brazen and proud manner of these Austrian men, who are always on the richer side of 50 (sorry, girls). This is the culture, this is the life here. Sometimes, I feel much more relaxed. Who really cares, if there is more shape than shadow to that man? Eh? Who cares if that woman divorced her razor a few months back? Eh? Humanity. Sweating, bouncing, moving, hairy humanity. It's beautiful.

At least I think so.

Don't take me wrong. I'm not heroic. Just because I see a Picasso and admire it on the wall does not mean I want to buy it. It's beautiful, regardless of whether or not I want to take it home and beauty will always have my appreciation, at the least. But on the other hand, a Franz Marc... Lines, shadow, grace... Wallet is in the hand. Yes'um, my wallet is in the hand.

Arrows and the Lusthaus

I've joined an archery club. They meet three times a week in the small gym of a school about a five minute walk from where I live. I think it's been the best life decision that I've made in Austria yet.

Archery is good. Archery is simple. Archery involves only one person, the shooter. Granted, all the pressure falls on you unlike team sports, where everyone shares the load. When you hold a bow, no one else is there to aim the arrow with you. It's a sport that forces you into independence. I love it and I am afraid of it. When the arrow flies astray, there's no one to blame but myself. But when the arrow hits the mark, there's no one to congratulate but myself. Give and take. Win and lose. There's a lot of pressure.

The other members of the club are really fun and encouraging. I enjoy being there because when I hit the mark, I get a thumbs up. The small things can sometimes lift the spirit the highest. There's also playful banter between rounds, lots of laughing as we collect the arrows. Then everyone is silent as we concentrate on the targets together.

The other day it was more pressure than normal because I somehow found myself snug in between the club leader/world champ and his wife and 10 year old daughter. They all were amazing. Even though I was the poor boob who never shot the yellow center, the only grading scale is the one you've created for yourself through previous shots. Still... BWAH!

Anyway, they've loaned me gear and I'm with them on Wednesday and Friday evenings. It's good to have something to do, to belong to a group - even if ever so superficially.

The weekend was interesting and slightly bland. I remember wishing that Saturday was really Sunday. Weekends with nothing to do are the worst.

I had planned to go to either Passau or Linz on Saturday but Friday night's shenanigans nullified that plan. With a couple of students, I went to a discotheque and danced the night away. It was a very hot spot for young people, named the Lusthaus. Don't get the wrong idea - it's not the sort of lust that you may be thinking of. The worn has different connotations in German. Although this place was full of drinking, dancing, and carousing, it wasn't... very dirty. I'm grasping for words when I can't really think of the best way to describe it.

Anyway, lots of techno and heavy music. I was quite tickled to hear a techno remix of the theme from Pirates of the Caribbean! Who would have thought it possible... The student who drove asked me what discotheques are like in America and I couldn't really answer. Springfield, Ohio, is not really the place and I've never been with friends in a city where it's possible to go dancing. We always just did it at somebody's house. So I had nothing to compare the smokey interior, flashing lights, wagon wheels and vines on the walls, of this discotheque with. The Lusthause I went to was divided into two rooms. One was the modern, techno, dance floor room and the other was... a mixture of the American West and the Austrian past. Saw a handful of my students and went home around 2am. Slept in late and didn't feel like I could utilize the day adequately with a trip. And very few trains run on Sunday. So plans were mooted.

Instead, I spent Saturday night walking around my town, window shopping and enjoying the fresh, crisp air. I had hoped that the Christmas lights would be illuminated but they weren't. I'm going to wander downtown again this evening to give them another check. It should be very impressive once they are lit up; the entire central square is bedecked with lights.

Other things I've done this weekend:
- Watched "The Hotel Venus"; an awesome Japanese movie (filmed in Russia with dialog in Korean - English subtitles!!)
- Crocheted an entire hat
- Read 80 pages of both Nick Hornby's A Long Way Down and Mildred Taylor's Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry
- Watched "Braveheart" for the first time and was not terribly impressed. Bagpipes are NOT musical! What was played throughout the entire movie were either hearthside pipes or Irish pipes. Blargh, my piping self was laughing quite a bit.
- Ran straight for 50 minutes and didn't feel pain at all. Today was a good day for the athletics.

Meanwhile, does anybody want a kitten? My parents are overrun at home with the cutest kittens you could imagine. I kid you not!

Why Fishes Float

Today is officially payday. The money was in the bag, aka my account, by Tuesday but not touchable until today. I was about to gigglingly withdraw a sum for food and fun before a friend warned me: early withdrawal equates to heavy fines. So I tightened my belt and mustered through till today. Which is fine, because money means joy rides through the grocery store. I have little self control when it comes to food. I am, essentially, an anti-Gandhi. I don't know how he did it because I worship at the Church of Food. Shiny labels, fancy packaging, delicious pictures - I am weak to all kinds of grocery store propaganda. Especially things that look sweet or chocolaty - I have no talent or creativity for cooking. That part of my femininity I left in the uterus.

I have money. I have food. Finally, I feel like I can relax and stretch my wings out and fly without strings. In celebration, I've decided to visit all the cafes in town (or as many as I can) over the course of my stay. My first stop was Cafe Kolm. I'd been there before but had never ordered a meal. When I arrived around 11am, there were only a few people and so I sat down, ordered a Cafe Latte, and opened up my neglected Japanese textbook. I ordered something... alright, I just pointed at the days special and asked for that. Something in Italian, something relatively inexpensive - I am very lazy.

The food was decidedly mellow and could be filed under: hot, oiled, and plain. It was not a problem because I have no qualms with such food. It was an experience. I stayed at the cafe until it filled to bursting with smoke and then I left. My long hair smells like an ash tray. It's a sticky souvenir that I just can't seem to shake.

And now I am full, drowsy, and oppressed by gray skies and rain. Tonight I have sports with some teachers, which requires 20min of walking in the rain. All in the name of blood, sweat, and tears! (those teachers play with attitude - talk about competitive!)

The Problem With Hidden Hubris

"Damn my eyes," was once elegantly spoken by some unfortunate bloke and it has no reference to what I'm about to write except that, at the moment, I really feel like cursing. Not for any passionate reason. Some people curse from anger, surprise, or amazed appreciation (see: damn, she's hot) and others curse when all other words have vanished. I fall into the latter group. As I sit here, at this benign computer, my fingers are trembling from fatigue and all I can think is damn as I try to gather the words to put together this fine story that I wish to tell.

Whenever something BIG happens, it is usually preceded by several paltry events that bear (or is it 'bare'?) no attention as they happen. YET, after the big event, 20-20 vision bursts forth and with awe-inspiring clarity, the long and winding path behind you is blatantly visible. My cancerous problem, that has been growing with every step of my life, is hidden Hubris. I'll stop rambling now and jump right into the bush...

It all started, or rather ended, on a cold and misty Sunday morning. I set out on my bicycle in the damp fog to meet a teacher from school, whose name I didn't know. It was 9am and few people were out when I spotted my teacher riding up ahead. She has shockingly white hair cut short and I recognized her instantly. We rode for approximately 15 minutes to a nearby farm in companionable silence.

Big and imposing, we rode into the barn courtyard. It was not silent; if you listened closely, you could hear all the horses and cows moving, eating, kicking, ruminating, etc. Here, as opposed to the city, many people were up and about, saddling horses, moving hay, and feeding animals.

I was assigned to a round and tall dappled bay horse, named Jimmy. At first sight, it was evident that he had that dense, yet agreeable mentality of a saddle horse. At FIRST sight. At the SECOND and THIRD glances, you notice the thick legs, waggling ears, and stomping foot of a horse anxious to get on with it.

We groomed and saddled the horses. Obsessed with safety, something that's been pounded into my thick skull since childhood, I DID ask for a helmet. Hah! I am a conscientious girl, Mom! I didn't get one; however, my kind teacher assured me that my horse was very agreeable and that she doesn't ride with a helmet anyway. Ignoring the tiny bells clanging in the back of my skull, I shrugged off upbringing and meekly mounted Jimmy. (Who would name a horse that? What a silly name...) And off we went into the misty woods of Upper Austria.

Just like riding a bike? I wouldn't exactly say that. It felt familiar, I will admit, to be sitting atop a grain-gobbling machine with a girth wider than an oil drum. It was when we first started trotting, the gait above a walk, that I began to feel uneasy. I immediately lost my stirrups and started flopping around like those cheap dashboard dolls in used cars. The second session of trotting went better, under the guidance of my teacher, who sympathetically adjusted my grip of the reins and foot posture. Posting, the act of standing and sitting during the trot, was still beyond me. But I gamely flopped around, carefully watching Jimmy's ears for signs of frustration at my ineptitude.

New perspective on my history of horseback riding slowly dawned in my bouncing head. I'd really been spoiled when it came to riding: slow outings with lots of people around, firm guidance and supervision, and complacent ponies. No ring training, very few riding lessons, an erratic riding history. Besides, I've always had a certain amount of fear for animals larger than myself. That fear has been transformed into timidity but I'm still not the most comfortable creature around horses. So I slowly began to question the why of my sudden lust to ride again. And it all boiled down to pride. It's the cool thing to do in my family. Necessary, expected - like brown eyes,brown hair, and glasses. But I DO enjoy it. It's a challenge.

Ah well, back to the story. My push-and-go horse was relieved to be out of the barn and my teacher suggested that we take the next stretch at a gallop. "Just grab hold of the reins, lean forward, and let them go," said my teacher with a smile. The next series of events I take as my own fault, my own lack of ability at horseback riding, than any fault of the horse. No matter how hard I would like to blame Jimmy, the fact that I ended sunny-side up wasn't directly his doing. Jimmy wanted to go and soon he was whizzing past the trees, snorting, and driving his way towards infinity.

It felt like warp-speed, like riding a washer machine downhill, like power and speed trapped beneath dapple brown flesh. For the first 15 or so seconds it was exhilarating. Then, as I zoomed past my teacher, the shit hit the fan. I heard her shouting something - German, English - at those speeds, everything is gibberish. I took it to mean: regain control and slow down. So I tried but in trying, I pissed off Jimmy and lost my seat. He bucked, I think, and I found myself riding on the wrong side of the horse. Invariably, you don't want to be on any part of the horse besides the top. Unless you are in the circus, can trace your family tree back to John Wayne, or were born on mars.

For a few jarring moments, maybe only a second, I thought I could pull myself up as Jimmy pounded away unawares. I could see myself, like a silent observer - small girl clinging desperately to large horse. How comic. How Hollywood. I remember seeing my teacher's face, eyes wide, mouth open, and hearing the typical shouting that sounds oh-so-far away. And then I felt myself falling. One belying thought went through my mind as Jimmy's legs came into view: "God, don't let me get trampled". Then flesh met ground and I rolled and rolled. My teacher's horse came very close and I flashed to a jockey's perspective and the aforementioned thought repeated itself.

In my defense, my first instinct was to get up and run after my horse. My teacher had slowed down and very worriedly asked if I was OK. I could feel this very shocked grin slap itself into position on my face. "Yeah, yeah, I'm alright," as a separate part of my brain went WTF. Jimmy was a good boy and had stopped a the turn up ahead. "So, you're down there, are you?" he seemed to ask. "Pfft, yeah!" I wanted to say. Ah well, remount, retry, and keep going. So is life.

I was slapping mud from my back and picking leaves out of my hair as we rode along. My teacher said that she hadn't seen anything like that in a long time, because she usually rides alone. I think I might have scared her quite a bit: "Oh God, I killed the language assistant!" I remarked that I was glad that no one else had seen that and she said that it was nothing to be ashamed of, then she commented that my seat during the gallop had been all wrong. Yeah, that happens when you really don't know what you're doing - when you have this false idea that you do or that you should know.

That's why hidden Hubris is terrible: you don't know it's there until circumstance reveals it. I made people believe that I could ride by saying that "I like to ride." Two very different things. But, soon I came to believe that I could ride too and that's worse.

In conclusion, I'm alright just shaken and disappointed in myself. Afraid that my teacher thinks me completely incompetent. But glad that no large stone made acquaintance with my skull. The only thing that I want to ride with four legs for a while to come is my chair.

Adieu.

Back to/from Sweden

On Friday I went back to Sweden. The journey started at an eye-melting 4:35am when I promptly caught a train to Vienna. Traveling is about catching things: trains, planes, buses, rare and exotic diseases. The possibilities are endless. All in all, from train to bus to plane, I arrived in Sweden around 2pm.

Flying into Stockholm, the Arlanda airport, is a stark reminder that you are arriving in a land tenderly embracing the arctic circle. The colors are the shades of gray and rust, with dashes of forest green thrown in liberally to taste. One thought promptly sprang to mind as I watched the Swedish scenery grow steadily closer: it looks like the train dioramas that my family used to make. The trees look like toothpicks with a bit of haphazardly glued green fluff. There are stones, moss, lichen. It looks so antique. Old? Archaic? Contrived? The light of fall doesn't help (the lack of light). Once August rolls around, you desperately realize that this is a country gripped by a weak sun for 8 solid months.

But for me that grim reality was like eating a familiar plate of grandma's cooking. It tastes familiar and known, delicious and comforting. But despite this picturesque quality of Sweden there are some downsides to this wonderful country.

Friendliness is a virtue
Swedish people are not a friendly bunch. What I mean is, they will not shower you with pleasantries upon first meeting. Store clerks are not beholden to smile. Do not expect eye contact. That's just how the Swedes are. They enjoy their solitude in the dark confines of their Ikea furnished rooms, drinking Absolut, and listening to metal music. This is partially facilitated, I theorize, by the lack of sun and warmth for most of the year.

However, not all Swedes are the same. The Swede that I know is quite the friendly fellow, outgoing, joking, and playful. Much was my surprise when I found out that not all Swedes are the same.

However, get a Swede around enough alcohol and he might swear fealty to you, try to imitate Sean Connery, and gallantly plunge into the political debate with that self-righteous verve that makes a Swede a Swede. This is formally known as the "Jekyll and Hyde" complex. I kid you not, this is an actual term recounted to me by Swedish students and would explain the high alcohol consumption levels of the country.

But do not fear. If you plan to travel to Sweden, come prepared with an excessively positive and friendly outlook. It is quite possible to break through that icy, arctic exterior and expose the fertile soil beneath(which might be partially frozen so watch out). Think on: Never give up, never surrender. Above all, don't take it personally and put on your thick skin.

But moving on...
Alright, enough of me making fun of the Swedes. My teachers asked me today how I enjoyed the trip and I answered: "It was fantastic! Dark, cold, wet!" But when you travel, I think it's about the people and as well as the place. I had an excessive amount of fun hanging out with my Swedish friend. I was able to visit old haunts and discover some new ones. We went to an exquisite Japanese restaurant for some of the best sushi I've had since Japan. I downloaded some entertainment, watched some movies, cooked real food!!!!!! Generally, I relaxed and regained some of the energy that I've been missing since coming to Austria.

Now I'm back to the grindstone. I just gathered my nerve to call the archery club, opted to join in on the practice on Friday. I'm still chasing tails on the horseback riding - maybe this weekend. Made some friends with a few students, possible fun to come. Have a few students interested in doing tutoring, which will help my bank account. All in all, life goes on in endless song. :)

How the Austrians Call it...

The Austrians are very confident, along with the majority of Europe. I barely have a clue myself as to how this election will run. In my opinion, Austria has a lot of chutzpah to run this cover story before the election (title: America votes for Obama).



I've been away for a bit, I know. Please be patient and soon the updates will resume their flow! I'm really tired right now but I feel like it's Christmas only the big man coming down the chimney is either going to be a Dem or a Republican!

Halloween...

I will have to do a lesson on Halloween on Thursday. Any ideas?

Dialect and Dinner Rolls

There are two things in Austria that one should NEVER, under any circumstances, take for granted: the thick, quirky dialect and the delicious seeming array of dinner rolls offered at any Austrian pub-restaurant.

Austrian dialect is insane, crazy, and above all frustrating. Even if you've spent 6-8 years studying German, you have little to no chance of getting by with any local. If you manage to convince someone to slip out of dialect and into the accepted norm of 'high German', you still face the bobbing, Scandinavian-like accent. Which, to be quite honest, is beautiful and not impossible to understand. The trick to the accent is that every 'a' turns into a Swedish 'å' (if you can't see that, it's an 'a' with a halo above it). Do not be fooled by its angelic appearance, however. It's an unforgiving character, making simple sentences like: "Was hast du gesagt" (What did you say?) sound almost Russian: "Wå' håst d' gesågt".

Dialect is still a tricky beast that has seen much mutation in the hills of Austria. Certain phrases have become nigh unrecognizable from their original German. Take, for example, the simple phrase "God be with you" or "Gott behütet dich". In Austria, it has turned into something resembling "Be-ith ewe" or "Füit dey", a queer coding of the language that even the young'uns can't trace.

So, you've managed to muddle through an Austrian's dialectical directions to the nearest pub-restaurant. You sit down, order the local white beer, show the waiter with your finger what you would like to order (there's little chance he would understand your attempts at dialect pronunciation) and you wait comfortably in the smoke hazy interior.

Pretty soon, the waiter is going to return with a yummy basket of freshly baked bread sticks and pretzels. How kind, thinks the average American, he anticipated my raging hunger with a welcoming appetizer! Ah, but be wary, naive American. Being hungry, you snack on one, two, possibly three of the delicious breads before your meal comes. And why not? The salt goes wonderfully with your beer! The meal comes, it's more than you anticipated, but extremely delicious. You finish, flag down the waiter to pay and stare aghast at a bill possibly 4-5 Euros more than you expected.

I have dubbed this the "Dinner Roll Trap." Coupled with dialect, you're bound to have an adventurous evening wherever you are in Austria! Hopefully, you now feel better equipped to face the dangerous, delicious, and dialectical pitfalls ahead of you on your next trip to Austria!

*I've exaggerated. Dialect is very difficult but never impossible if someone is there willing to explain it. I look forward to learning more as the months go by. The Dinner Roll Trap, however, is based on a true story that I have so recently experienced.

"Füit dey"!

REAL Coffee

My Italian neighbor stands by Italian coffee; it's the best in the world by her standards. She gave me a syringe full this morning, just a moment ago, saying that it had been cooked too long.

It tasted fine but just that little bit, cut with 4 times as much milk, has my eyes wide open! Hello, good morning!

Familiar with debate

Today was a rare day of long classes full of taxing questions. It started at 7:30am and lasted for four hours of class discussion after class discussion. I faced many bouts of political-based questions: "Are you proud to be an American? Do you like Bush? Was it right that America went into Iraq?" ETC. One teacher wanted me to go over Barack Obama, the life and times of said dude. Two others requested that I review the American system of election. And a fourth was interested in education and general discussion.

One thing I noticed - explaining the electoral college is difficult. It's a bit hard for me to understand why something so undemocratic and old fashioned is still in place and to explain that a candidate can win the electoral vote but loose the election. I reasoned that equal representation is something difficult - almost as illusive as perfection - and the electoral college is there to help. Did you know that the British Labor Party uses an electoral college to elect its leader?

Plans are shaping up for Christmas. As you may or may not know, I am not returning stateside for the big day. That decision is going to be hard to bear the sooner December comes around but my plans are to visit a dear friend in Berlin. Besides, the days and weeks preceding Christmas were always more fun for me - putting up the decorations, breaking out the Christmas music CDs and DVDs, baking cookies, moving down a day on the advent calender, etc. Anticipation is beautiful and the Christmases of my childhood remain picture-perfect for me. I am very lucky to have such lovely memories.

Knitting project number one is almost done! A handy scarf. Soon, I will have the armor to combat an Austrian winter! Although, my students tell me that there could either be lots of snow - or nothing at all. *sigh* Sounds just like home!

R23

Last night I couldn't find sleep. These past few evenings, I find myself talking my mind into a light rest as opposed to the deep respite from reality that usually precedes the shallow sleep of dreams. I have had too many dreams since my time in Sweden. I can't seem to stop or find "rest" from my own thoughts - the dreams start and snowball and then leave me at the brink, whereupon I abruptly wake up.

Maybe it has something to do with the lack of lassitude in my life abroad. English is my mother tongue; I can relax in English. But German, Japanese, and Swedish require a constant level of consciousness - no relaxing allowed - and that might slip over into my dreams, which are still in English. When my dreams start speaking in Austrian dialect, I will know that the situation is improving.

As I promised myself, I pushed the bike out into the sunlight and headed for the hills. Today was partly cloudy, moderately chilly, and burning bright with the colors of Fall; it was a perfect day for a bike ride.

I'm not the most exciting adventurer. When I start out towards someplace new, I like to glance at a map. It's not my style to shoot off into the sunset - I need to have an idea! And that classifies me as a certain type, I have no doubt, but if I were to do something extremely spontaneous then I would need a friend to come with me!

The path was windy and long, dodging in and out of small towns and through tilled fields of earth. I had set out around noon so the smell of lunch was strong as I went through town after town. Lunch here has a particular smell, like cooking butter, fat, onion, and meat. It pleases me. I could also taste that bitter gray smell of burning wood. There must be plenty of wood stoves in Austria, judging by the piles of stacked wood outside many of the homes. Like my dad, they must be ready and excited to light up the stove for the first time of the season!

I stayed out for an hour - long enough to get covered in gnats, sweat, and excitement - before I headed back. Two hours total. I really enjoy my contact teacher's bike, which I'm borrowing. The gears change when I move some levers with my fingers. This would be really good for people with sore hands...

Well, that was my weekend. Weekends tend to be less 'thrilling' than weekdays. Is that how it should be or is that contradictory to my age and situation? ;)

Love to hear from you! Thank you for the comments - it's good to hear 'bout the States and how you're doin!

Flavor of the Day

It already seems like the days are whizzing by. Apparently, my preferred lifestyle is 14 hours of work a week with plenty of time left over for my hobbies and interests - aka lallygagging. I am a world class lallygagger.

This week, a pair of teachers from the Bakip (the school for kindergarten teachers), invited me along to a spa/bath resort in a town 30min away by car, in Germany. It was FANTASTIC. And I don't DO water. I'm like a tail-less dolphin, incredibly awkward and out of place in water. But this place was wonderful. The pair of teachers picked me up at the school, conveniently located right next door to my room, with a child apiece around 6pm. We then drove across the border, a river called the Inn.

The spa cost around 8.50 Euro and we stayed for three hours. The town, Füssing, has been the sight of several spa resorts for many years, ever since the natural hot springs were discovered. The water has a high sulfur content and is slightly radioactive (in good, natural ways). Many people visit from both Germany and Austria. There were many many different pools, all located outside and quite warm. We floated around from pool to pool, some with bubbles, some with fountains, some with currents, some boiling, some freezing - all different kinds! After we had spent time floating around, we took a rest in a 'quiet room', of which there were several different kinds as well. In some of the rooms even reading was prohibited. This was my first experience visiting a place devoted solely to relaxation. Hmm, I could get used to this!

Located on the same resort area were at least 7 different kinds of saunas. If you are like me, you only recognize one kind of sauna - HOT ones. Well, in Europe the art of heat has been well researched. There are all different kinds of saunas that involve applying various substances to your skin: everything from honey to cocoa. I only tried one, a "Dampfgrotto", a steam sauna. At the door to the inside, I could see a room that was heavily shrouded in steam, with walls and ceiling that resembled a brown cave. I grabbed a blue plastic mat to sit on (you wear clothes in this type of sauna), and stepped in. It was like breathing lava. After a few quick breaths through my nose, I gave up and breathed through my mouth. It was too uncomfortable. After a few moments, steam began to condense all over my body and I felt slick but not overly hot. I'm not sure how long I sat there; between focusing on breathing and noting the interesting sensation of boiling air filling my lungs, I kept my eyes on the exit. It was probably only five minutes that I was in there before I dashed outide, admnitting defeat. Several glances watched me with pity as I left, when, in fact, I pitied them and wished for nothing but cool air!

Strange thing is, it was THE BEST THING I COULD HAVE DONE FOR MYSELF. I've been breathing better than I have since coming here. Mom, Dad, and anyone else who wants to quit Claritin, you must try this Dampfgrotto! Best thing ever, I swear. :)

Thursday night, I played sports with some teachers for two hours - realized that I really do suck at that "be aggressive, hit the ball" facet of life. It was fun and afterwords we went to a traditional restaurant - went in through the BACK door, the perk of coming in with "regulars". I had knödel (Austrian dumplings) filled with three different variations of pig; on the side, I had sauerkraut and a white beer brewed in my town. I met some very fun people, including a retired teacher who made me happy about life through her smiles, laughter, and descriptive hand gestures. I got a ride back to my place, thankfully, because it was raining.

Friday was a day of little note, except that I finished "Monstrous Regiment" by Terry Prachett and started "Die Undendliche Geschichte" (The Neverending Story) by Michael Ende. It is, of course, quite good. The text is printed in two colors, red and green. The "real world" text is red and Phantasia text is green. The colors make me happy.

I went running for a bit this morning, discovered some nice back roads with bright orange ponies, and worked out in the tiny gym on top of our building. Refreshed, full of coffee and müsli, I contemplate the next part of today.

Addendum to the Aufenthaltstitel

I've been here for nearly two weeks now, as a teacher's assistant. The time has been really lively, each class has something different about it, whether it's the students, the teacher, or the material. I'm never sure what to expect.

Since it's the first time that I'm in these classes, I have to do introductions - meaning I talk about myself for 10-15 minutes and then field any questions they might have. Boy oh boy, I'm tired of myself!

I've also covered topics like: the American school system, the American election, stereotypes, etc. But sometimes more interesting subjects crop up spontaneously. Last week, during a 7:30am class (God, it hasn't gotten much easier waking up that early), I had to stumble through FGM (Female Genital Mutilation) with a class, a topic that I haven't ever studied in-depth. An hour later I had to go over eating disorders with another class. I feel somewhat bad for the students; because I don't know much about the topic, I just dish-out my opinions and discuss how such things are viewed in America. But SO EARLY in the morning! And with little forewarning... The surprises in this job never end.

Sunday was the "last rose of summer" over here. It was quite warm and the sun had broken through the thick fog over Ried for the first time in a week. I took the opportunity to walk around town and snap some pictures in the quiet Sunday afternoon. Nothing is open on a Sunday besides the odd restaurant for an afternoon meal. Besides that, no shopping can be done. You have to think ahead and buy food on Sunday or else you'll feel the pinch of forgetfulness in your belly on Sunday.

On Monday, I was quite spontaneous. *beams* I taught in the morning for a few class periods and followed my last teacher out of the building. We were chatting and she mentioned that she was going to run and get manure for her garden. Somehow she mentioned that she would normally invite me home and I interjected that if she needed help moving manure - an occupation to which I feel completely at home - that I would gladly help her. Well, that was that. We left right from the school and she took me home. I played with her three dogs and two young daughters. We worked in her garden and I got to meet a farmer, which may lead to a possible exchange of English tutoring for riding time (a wishful hope). And I can tell you that manure here smells the same as in the States.

It was wonderful! I fell in love with her Fox Terrier named "Belle" who is just like a long-legged, younger Dazzle. I want a dog!!

The only downside to such a fantastic time is how quiet the room seems when I return. The one bed stands empty, the windows are dark, and even the drapes weep solitude. In that sense, today was terrible. I felt quite unsteady, bewildered by what I'm only now beginning to feel as a creeping loneliness. I know my weapons, I know the battle strategy to combat this foe. But knowing and doing are two different creatures and to best the "do", I've got to work on myself a bit more.

Today there was a moment of panic when I received an email from our Supreme Commander. There's some tricky paperwork involved with our payment schedule that is time sensitive. When I got an email about a copy of my Visa being needed, I panicked because I'd never been asked for one. It being only the afternoon, I dashed onto my and flew down to school, only to discover that the secretary's office was closed till 2pm. That left an hour to kill. I took the time to sit in a nearby park and gather myself up; did some soul searching and found that I really have too much time on my hands and that the old adage: Idle hands make idle minds, is a load of tripe. My mind is so un-idle, it's driving me to physical illness!

Anyway, at 2pm I went to see the secretary, a very kind, quick, and efficient lady. She understood my concern but said that they'd never required any such document before. She even called the proper authorities, the Landschulrat, to double check. Nope, turns out the email I got was just a general "reminder" to everyone. *head slam* I hate it when death-tolling emails turn out to be only the clangs of an alarm clock, especially when it involves my paycheck!

A few new pics:

Once Upon an Austria

End of Week One

Week one is over but I'll begin this post with a little backward step to last weekend's orientation. I'd taken this video while up in the Austrian mountains on our hiking trip:
And then I forgot about it until now. It seems that, with the more time I have, the more things I end up forgetting. It's quite troublesome. If I don't respond to emails directly, it's because I receive them, think of how nice it would be to reply, and then I get distracted by the Nothing. How could Nothing be distracting? Just ask Sebastien from The Neverending Story.

Good news is that I have friends now! *impossibly huge grin* And if I am too bold in calling them friends, at least they are really interesting people with whom I can freely talk. There is an Italian girl living next door to me and we have fun talking in halting German. I think we have a similar mentality because when the German doesn't fit, we often resort to shoulder-shrugs and other gestures. I've also gotten to learn an interesting guy from Romania who can speak fluent German, English, and Italian. This makes him the perfect companion for my Italian friend and I. He's impossibly talented. Languages on his "to-do" list, as he says, are Russian and Japanese. We are going to have a party tomorrow.

And this is how it goes for the first week - the week days are somewhat long and slow, flappy, and full of free time. The weekends are packed with various meetings with friends new and old - over Austria. The scales are not equally balanced.

P.S. I splurged and bought a large roll of chocolate filled cookies. BAD life decision. First day, and I'm already through half the pack.

The Question-Answer Game

Second day is already finished and it's only mid morning. My classes on Thursdays and Fridays begin at 7:30am. That entails waking up at 6:10am. I'm ready for a nap.

Today was more interesting. I basically led a 5th year class (high school freshmen) in a discussion and activity (that I had devised myself - I'm quite proud!) with the teacher prompting students to interact. The second class, directly after, was the 8th class - the last level of English. With them, I basically fielded fireball questions like:

What do you think of Austrian boys?
Who do you think will be the next American president?
Do you think America should have gone into Iraq?
Are you proud to be an American?

and more tame questions like:

Do you like sports?
What do you miss most from America?
Have you ever met a celebrity?

Needless to say, some questions required a little more finesse than others. It's fun but I have to work at forming interesting answers. A darker, more mischievous side of me wants to fabricate. :P But nah, I wouldn't!

I discovered that I am not to open my window at night. I woke up this morning with *counts* 5 huge, red, lumpy mosquito bites on my right arm. Two on my hand. They look quite awkward, as if I were a teenager with serious acne or an idiot who'd stuck their arm in a beehive. I smooshed a slow moving mosquito this morning, who was probably laden with my blood, and he left a large red puddle on my palm. Bastard. I hope he was the only one.

Besides having mailed my absentee ballot today, nothing much new has happened. The weekend looks to be full and fun and I've been checking flight prices to Sweden. But they are appallingly expensive and yet I want to go... almost need to go. I want to see a familiar face. Does anybody want to give me a private jet?

As per request, here is my address:

Katie Konrad
Riedbergstrasse 1
4910 Ried im Innkreis
Austria

But please DO NOT put value on packages, if you can avoid it! If you do, I will have to pay taxes, duties, or some such other imposed fee.

Things I like...: photos, candy, tea, letters :)

Pickled Pigs Toes

It's living life the first night after my first day as a TA. I'm sitting here in my room, eating a pale banana, while slowly being driven mad by the tick-tick of my wristwatch. I can't help but think, after reviewing my performance on the teacher's stage, that I remind myself of Buster Keaton, a sadly comic man with a deadpan face. Well, I might have been a little more animated and certainly less silent but I'm still left with the feeling of having pulled myself out beyond clarity for the sake of laughter. I delivered a 10 minute biography to 6 different classes today. I feel like a bit of metal that has only had one corner partially beaten flat. Parts of my life I ignored or glossed over. Heh, it's funny for me to observe my quick-panicking mind scramble for its idea of this life's 'best of' and blurt it out time and time again with little variation. Am I really this dull, I wonder to myself. Or am I my own social experiment?

Anyway, I've never wanted to pick up smoking so much in my life. There's a crowd of student's always chilling outside my building and I watch with envy the ease with which they interact. Even if I didn't smoke, could I just carry around a pack - just in case? It looks like instant camaraderie. Either that or I'm glossing over the specifics.

I have a passing interest in feeling lonely. But only passing. The feeling will surely grow, and grow as I deny it sustenance but that is the way of such things. I've never been one to force relationships - be they friends or (mild hesitation). Well, at least friendship. At the moment, solitude is what I have, whether I want it or not. The doors are open but I'm not crying out loud.

My students are pretty cool people and represent a wide variety of personalities. I teach at a school for students 14-18 who want to become kindergarten teachers (BAKIP). The second school where I work is for 14-18 year old students who want to go to college with no specific training (BORG). All of my students at the BAKIP are girls. The BORG have a more mixed group (appropriate). The boys like to strut. The girls like to giggle. It's interesting and fun - just extremely draining. I had to sell myself 6 times today and I still don't think there were any buyers.

Almost all the teachers have British accents, some of them are quite adorable (both teachers and accents).

A first day audit? I think it went alright but will things continue to go so smoothly? And will the pressing lack of company during the week drive me up the wall? *dum dum daaa* Tune in for more... later. :)

Taking Back Sunday

The internet is back! Apparently a rascally student had damaged the ethernet port in my room with a sharp object sometime in the past. But one grumbling German, a new port, and 4 hours later WULLAH! The posts can now resume:


Ì spent the weekend with my contact teacher outside of Ried in a little town known as Eberschwang. It was quite surprising to me that my teacher would still want me to come out and spend the weekend with her even though I was able to sneak into my dormitory before it closed for the weekend.

It has been a very heartening weekend. My contact teacher, Traudi, reminds me a bit of all the good people in my life. She reminds me of my mom a lot – the quilting, knitting, and general talent for all that she touches. She reminds me of friends from college – she’s jovial, curious, and upbeat. On Friday night, I was more exhausted than I have been yet, since being in Austria, and she outright told me, “This is your home.” And that’s just how I felt. After that first admittedly awkward evening, a groove was found and I settled into a comfort level.

It helped that she is an excellent cook and fed me with meals that rivaled my Mama-san of Japan in quality. We had LAMB for lunch on Saturday and VEAL on Sunday. Take THAT, organic, vegetarian farm in Sweden! It was excellent. For a bit of time on Saturday, I got a ride with the husband back into town. Norbert, the husband, is a flutist and a hobby glide/plane flyer who did most of the construction on their beautiful German house constructed nearly solely of wood.

In town, I purchased a phone card and found the bank and registration office where I will need to attend to a few things. Then Traudi picked me up and we went to the tiny airport where the husband flies for some pizza at a very cute pub/restaurant. I met a British couple who is now living abroad; the gentleman gave me one of his business cards although I have no clue what he does. And then we feasted on pizza and ice cream. When we got home, her two cats – a black and a gray – tackled us, acting much like dogs. Norbert was going to work late at the airport so just the two of us stayed up late talking books, culture, and quilting. Hey, I am open to many-a topic! ;)

Sunday, we awoke and went for an hour hike in the nearby woods. At the summit, we climbed a tall watch tower where you could see all the surrounding towns as well as the towering mountains to the south. I imagined myself on the frontier of middle earth – I’m in Hobbiton and far off in the distance is the angry mountain. Actually, it felt like LOTR meets Narnia. Ice Queen, anybody? Ah, I recently found out that the place where we spent orientation had nearly 70cm of snowfall the day after we left! Already! October and it’s coming. Granted, Traudi tells me that it will all have melted in a few days.

Anyway, after the hike, she cooked curry for me and that really cinched life into one ball of contentment.

Now I am back in my dormitory room and facing a grim life of pretzel snacks and apple juice for dinner. *sigh* Those tasty days of home cooked meals ended too quickly. But, on the other hand, it sounds like Arnold is having a rowdy conversation with somebody next door. The walls are thin.

A Thousand Words

Here I am, in my new home base for the next 8 months: Internat im Ried.

What HAS been going on?

For the past few days I have been completing a mandatory orientation in Saalbach, a ski-town nearly two hours south of Salzburg. It was extremely enlightening (something I really appreciated as I don't really know HOW to teach). The days were full of seminars on how to survive in an Austrian school and the nights were full of riffraffery of the liquid sort. Even the professors joined in, late in the evening.

On Wednesday, after a morning of seminars, everyone who wanted trecked up one of the many nearby mountains. It was beautiful weather. The flirtatious sun choose to shine down and enlighten our trek so that we all became a bit sweaty from the climb. Sweat is a curse on a mountain hike, I've discovered. Once we reached the summit, the sweat dried slowly, leaving me with salty chills and I was really grateful that I had brought along a dry sweatshirt. Blisters, sweat, multiple muscle pain further along in time - it was all worth it. It was an ACCOMPLISHMENT. At the top, I could see far and wide. Austria looks contrived, fake, fantasy - anything but what you would expect of reality. It is, frankly, TOO beautiful. Pictures:

Once Upon an Austria

Thursday, everyone created and deployed a mock lesson in front of their respective groups. We were divided into groups according to our teaching province in Austria. As such, I was with other Oberösterreich-ers (Upper Austria TAs). Again, it was all helpful; I snagged a few ideas and criticism to boost me through the classrooms here. Gosh, I really don't know how to feel about teaching. Ho-hum. Last night in town and everyone went out to the bar. All 80-some foreigners were out - I swear! One night, I didn't feel like going out and I was pleasantly surprised to find a group of girls playing cards and enjoying a selection of the local beer. It's fun because even the people who don't go out don't hole-up in their rooms. Anyway, the whole experience was a pleasant mixture of learning and fun. Good times!

After all that, I managed to make my way by train, bus, and car to my assigned town. Because all the kids go home for the weekend, the staff are gone and that leaves me currently without internet in my room. But I think a student stayed behind because I smell illegal cigarette smoke wafting down the hall and hear really loud music. My shower and bathroom are in the lobby and the kitchen is in the hallway. Cup-o-soup, here I come!

For me, this is really brief because so much has happened. All week long, I have been writing little anecdotes inside my head that I wished you all could read and enjoy. It's a very different kind of place here - loads different from anything else that I have experienced. But I am, as seems the usual norm these days, tired and drained. Maybe after a few days, when I've settled in and no longer have to use these foreign keys, I will write them out. :)

Until then, please look at the pictures and imagine your own stories!

Arrival

Katie has arrived and plans to write the motherload update soon! She lives and will continue the story in a few days! :)

*end service announcement*

Liftoff Approaches

Saturday is the big day! The day when I wave goodbye once again to the free shores of America and reach out to the more hilly and musical ones of Austria. Too bad I can't sing but I suppose that that just means this trip is going to get a whole lot more interesting... or toneless.

I've been placed by the Austrian Fulbright Commission in a small town of Upper Austria. Actually, it's a pretty standard sized town of over 11,000 people. But a tenth of that number amounts to my high school... Hey, it could be worse. I DO have a train stop. This is a good thing! This means you can visit with ease! :D

Here are some links (very handy things):

http://www.ried.at/ <-- the town in question. Navigation is available only in German so...

This might be more helpful:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ried_im_Innkreis

At the moment, I'm more than passively thinking about packing. The suitcase has made its way down from the attic and into the hallway. I did buy some magazines today: a copy of the Rolling Stones, Sports Illustrated (Penn State edition), and a quilting circular (as a gift). Next on the shopping list are some maps, a newspaper, and perhaps a fashion mag - all to be used in the classroom. I also have to print some pictures of this wonderful land known as PA and of my family. Other things, like refreshers on how this country's education and political systems work will hopefully be available on the internet. Who fancies a pop-quiz?

Things that I've accomplished:
- registered with the American Embassy
- assembled Wittenberg loan repayment papers in a handy binder
- dug out the long underwear
- printed out necessary legal documents
- doubted the holding capacity of my suitcase

How is the state of the union, Mr. President? How kind of you to ask. Actually, I am peacefully numb with a dash of indifferent confidence thrown in to spice. It's a great place to be compared to the browned and withered domain of my doubts. *shudder* I've put away the map to that kingdom!

Next stop: Heathrow, London! Then Munich, Germany! And then Salzburg, Austria! And and then Saalbach, Austria! And then back to Salzburg, Austria! And then, finally, stopping at Ried im Innkreis, Austria!!

Life's a whirlwind and I just grabbed hold of a giant kite.