Willkommen in Wien

Currently listening to: A flute, a horn, and a soprano playing (and singing) scales in different keys. That's right... I'm hanging out near the practice rooms at the Institute here in Wien, and this place is at all times filled with one of two sounds: 1) Incredibly fast and hearty Austrian German, or 2) Music in practice rooms whose acoustical barriers are about as effective as the current American drinking age.

Firstly, an explanation for the lengthy pause since my last post. Second semester, although full of ups and downs and laughs and tears and death and hope and joy and betrayal and sex and murder and pathos and poetry, was relatively standard. No strange teachers, no weird dates, only the daily (and wonderful) grind of class, framed by the new (to me) process of building a life around someone you love. Had I been blogging during this time, you would have fallen asleep while reading and woken up with drool and computer key markings all over your face. No one wants to read a semester of:

Dear Diary,
After some hard-boiled eggs, I went to class. We learned about nothing useful or interesting in particular. Then for lunch I had an omelet. Out of meat today, cheese only. I practiced for a while and then translated Italian. Then Zach came over. I made Tuna Helper, with eggs. Zach watched me drink coffee, we had Private Selection English Toffee ice cream, then retired to my room. Zach left an hour later. My, it's cold in January.

See? So in fact it's a rather great thing that you were spared a semester of this tedium. Not to say it was boring, it just wasn't terribly funny. My Italian teacher was a bit of a loon, but material can only be rehashed so many times.

SO THE PRESENT! I'm not sure where to begin... watch out, this blog might be a bit discombobulated.

Austria is stunning. I have no better word, and for that I apologize, but it's true. We spent the first weekend in the Alps. There's more justice in the OJ trial than in the gross understatement that the hills are "alive." These things just have to be seen. We took a little trip to the Erlaufsee, a "small" lake in the middle of the Alps. After hiking around on the lake, I sat on a dock with my feet dangling in the water, taking in the living postcard in front of me. You can't help but wax philisophical at that point, and it's a small wonder how people like Beethoven and Mahler got their inspiration. After thinking about life and love and meaning and truth and beauty and art, I thought for a while how nice it would be to own one of the €25,000,000 houses that inhabit lake's edge. But then crazy/beautiful architecture in idyllic settings is nothing new to these people... Jesü Christ. I just turn a corner in the city and make the "Thank-God-You-Knew-the-Heimlich-Cuz-that-was-a-Huge-Piece-of-Schnitzel" face. Wiener Schnitzel, by the by, is not a big phallus covered in sauerkraut and generally made to look as unappetizing as possible. It's usually a veal cutlet, sometimes turkey, that's been breaded and fried. A lot like cordon bleu, only if you call it cordon bleu a huge man named Helmut comes out of the shadows (or out of an indescribably small car), and pummels you. Don't be fooled by the long hair and pleasant Austrian manner: Helmut is one Wiener who doesn't fool around when it comes to his Schnitzel.

But yes, so as an example of the stunningness... I'm writing this blog in a large room in the Institute. The walls are gilded, the doors (also gilded) are 20 feet tall, there are... wait, I'm counting... 10 magnificent carvings adorning the spaces above the doors, the ceiling (gilded) is painted to look like a serene, cerulean sky, there are enough mirrors to make Paris Hilton happy, and the chandelier is probably on loan from the last Viennese production of Das Phantom der Oper. And that's all fairly blase compared to the velvet carpeting, marble columns, oak, ebony, and mahogony walls, and intricate stone-lace designs which decorate the rest of the building. This is the Palais Corbelli, the home of the IES Institute, and it's on an unimportant, untouched side of the street in the middle of Vienna. This building, which in any American town would have a spot on A&E and be perused by an army of Antiques Roadshow appraisers, pretty much fades into the unbelievable splendor on every street. I've been aghast (and I'm not just being dramatic, aghast is what I feel) at every corner. I really had no concept of "ornate" until visiting this Imperial City.

So I'm learning Deutsch like a psycho person... we're in the middle of the "German Intensive" which dominates the first three weeks of the program. My teacher, Frau Schachermeier (I can't make this stuff up), is a wonderfully cute Austrian native who is perhaps the most spry and delightful teacher I've ever had. She nurtures as if she were just one large breast, and she has a voice that could charm the honig right out of the beehive. There is absolutely (under no circumstances and penalty of death) English spoken in her class, but when you get stuck (which is fairly often) she approaches you sweetly and her lilt becomes even more pronounced. Her eyes get wide when she speaks, and all you want to do is get your place on the rug for story time and hope that caca-sandwich Susie didn't take your spot for nappy time.

Ein Student: Kann ich die Toilette... um... er...?
Fr. Schachermeier: BenÜTZen?! naTÜRlich!!!

She's just a big bundle of Austrian goodness.

But I'm learning a lot of German very very quickly, which provides a good deal of satisfaction. Class is certainly helpful, but most of the learning comes from street life. For instance, today I ordered a Käsekrainer, which is a massive piece of meat in hot doggish form that is filled with melted cheese. I mean, I bit into this thing and it splurted all over me like some kind of delicious pustule. When I ordered, however, the man behind the counter just handed me this cheese-oozing item without anything but the flimsiest of napkins to hold it. I couldn't be expected to grasp this giant wurst, bleeding as it was with grease and gouda, with only a simple piece of paper. So, knowing I didn't know the word for "bun," I said, "Können Sie englisch, bitte?" His response was to lift an eyebrow, point to my meat, and say, "Ja, Käsekrainer." This answer was insufficient. Thinking that mental images were certainly the best way to solve a language problem, I grasped the meat with my hand and proceeded to vigorgously rub it up and down. This way, I thought, I can show that I'm looking for an item that will cover the dog in its entirety. "Do you have a bun?" I asked in English. Obviously he thought my Käsekrainer masturbation was pretty funny. He brought his friends over to watch me make an unbelievable ass out of myself. After about two minutes, I realized what I was doing to this poor food and put my then-greasy hand at my side.

"Did you want a bun?" asked the first man. Wanting to preserve any semblance of dignity, I denied his request and went to the table, where I gnawed on the best hot dog of my life and drank down a half-liter of Ottakringer (the local everyman's beer, which, incidentally, is excellent. I've never been a beer fan, but that's because I only had Natty Light and Milwaukee's Best to work with).

One young Austrian, my age or maybe younger, approached me on Mariahilferstraße, one of the see-and-be-seen shopping avenues.

Austrian: *Lots o' German, maybe every 5th word of which I understood*
Me: Entschuldigung, ich kann deutsch nicht so gut.
(Austrian looks at me disbelievingly)
Me: No seriously, I really can't speak German.
Austrian: Well, do you have an Austrian bank account?
Me: No.
Austrian: Ok. Well, then, you are allowed to go away from me.
His permission granted, I left.

I know this blog is a long one, and I could go on and on (some more), but I'll try and wrap it up and save some for later.

I'll finish with my living situation. I live in the dorm of the Universität für Musik und Darstellende Kunst (University for Music and Performing Arts). For the sake of brevity: classes take place in District 1, Johannesgasse 7. I live at Johannesgasse 8. Schön as all get-out. I live about 30 steps from Kärntnerstraße, which is basically the Michigan Avenue or Rodeo Drive or 5th Avenue of Vienna. Full of tourists, but very happening, especially at night. Oh, and there's the single largest building I have ever seen about 3 minutes from my place. Stephansdom, or St. Stephan's Cathedral, is a gothic masterpiece situated at the very center of Vienna. I hear the bells ringing as I wake up. All I need are some birds to come and draw my curtains, revealing a late summer morning as they chirp Mozart tunes, and I'd be a real Austrian.

Once I'm able to relax my "I-just-witnessed-a-triple-homicide" wonderment face and get used to the place a little, the blogs should become a little less descriptive and a little more narrative.

Listening to: German rap from my roommate's computer. She thinks it will help our language study. This particular song is a list of commercial acronyms. I don't quite see the usefulness in knowing "KNY, GmbH, MCO und BMW, yo!" BMW, by the way, is pronounced here as "bay-em-vay" and they're like Fords... a 7-series in every garage. The garbage trucks have Mercedes logos. What a sexy place.