One More Week

Less than 7 days to go, and I'll be able to go home for Christmas.  Even though there's plenty of teaching to be done, a seminar to attend, gifts to buy, and a party to hold, my mind's already dreaming of laying on the floor with my dogs, playing my piano (which I desperately, desperately miss), eating my parents' cooking, sleeping in my bed, driving, visiting friends and family, being home.  In German, there's a beautiful word, "Heimat," which carries the meaning and feelings of a place where one is physically, spiritually, emotionally home - the place that calls to him whenever he is abroad, where memories reside, where one's completeness rests.  As much as I love my life here, and that's quite a lot, it is not, cannot be my Heimat.  It's only been three months since I've been home, and when at university, three months was a walk in the park.  But, being thousands of miles and hours upon hours away, living amidst a different culture, working in a different language, being away from all things familiar, it can at times be rough.  Thankfully, I've made some wonderful friends who have eased the transition and who have made homesickness a seldom appearing guest under my roof.  

"'Don't you cry, I'll be back again some day.'" Perhaps Austria's only Frosty.

This past week was really busy, but also very rewarding.  Pretty much since I arrived here, I've been writing away for grad school applications.  In making the transition from psychology to history, I've had to make up a lot of ground in terms of writing scholarly papers using historical methodology, which was a process I had to entirely teach myself because most of the programs to which I applied required a writing sample of a history essay.  At times, I felt like completing the applications was a job unto itself, often requiring hours at a time behind the keyboard, fastidiously typing away.  I had to write a résumé, which I loathed.  Chronicling my achievements in the best possible light - in a sense, advertising myself - really isn't my cup of tea, but I'm happy with how it turned out.  I had a handful of excellent professors with whom I've formed friendships over the years write my letters of recommendation, and I wrote tailored personal statements for each program to which I applied.  Overall, I only wrote about thirty pages, but these pages had to be so carefully worded, so articulate and precise, so concise and self-revealing that, at times, I perspired, trying to think of how best to phrase a sentence.  It was the most demanding writing I've done yet, but hopefully it's not for naught - today, the very last application was submitted!  Now the long wait, but I'm hopeful!  

During the week, two friends and I met at the train station after dinner and rode about 30 minutes northeast of Salzburg to a tiny village on the Austro-German border called Oberndorf.  One of my students sat next to us on the train, and he tried to hold a conversation with us.  The lady sitting across from him was interested in practicing her English, too, apparently, and complimented our nice charisma, which was warmly received!  As we stepped off the train, that same lady offered to take us to our destination.  Across roads and down dark residential paths, we arrived after a brisk walk.  Before us stood a small market square, an old grain mill, and, up on a low-rising hill, the tiniest free standing chapel I've ever seen.  Inside this white chapel, covered in beautiful, soft snow, candles were lit and the Advent wreath hung above our heads.  The chapel marks the spot where, nearly 200 years ago, a priest and a school teacher wrote and performed a simple song called "Stille Nacht," "Silent Night."  I got pretty caught up in the moment - standing in a chapel no bigger than my kitchen, seeing the soft lights reflected in the fresh blanket of snow, realizing this was the spot where the world first heard one of the most famous Christmas carols, indeed, one of the most famous songs ever.  It was the same song that British and German soldiers sang together on the front lines during a brief pause in fighting during the First World War on Christmas Eve 1914.  After taking a moment in the chapel, we walked to the tiny Christkindlmarkt below, where only one of maybe a dozen stands was open.  The vendor was serving warm drinks, and we tried the pear cider, which was outstanding.  Afterwards, we decided to walk a long the Salzach river, the same that divides Salzburg, and which serves as the border between Austria and Germany.  We came to a bridge after about five minutes, and crossed it into Germany. Halfway, we turned around and saw a magnificent illuminated staircase carved into the hillside, at the top of which stood a beautiful Baroque oratory to the Crucified Christ - breathtaking.  We continued into the little city of Laufen, of which Oberndorf was once apart.  During World War II, the city's centrally located castle served as a prison for captured British intelligence officers.  The town was so pretty, blanketed in snow, silence, and Christmas lights.  In the main square stood a tall Christmas tree, with lights all around the place.  We continued and crossed another bridge back into Oberndorf.  Probably the two most enchanting hours I've spent here so far - just wonderful, and so Christmas-y.

"Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht."

The other night, a few of us gathered at a friend's apartment for Chinese food and a movie.  After a few tries of Austria's take on Chinese food, I think I've thrown in the towel.  I know what we have back in the States isn't "real" Chinese food, but it's just so delicious!  I miss it.  Anyway, we watched my absolute favorite Christmastime movie: Love Actually.  It's such a "feel good" movie, and I always, always laugh at a few of the scenes.  My particular favorite is one featuring Alan Rickman (Prof. Snape) and Rowan Atkinson (Mr. Bean).  Rickman's character wants to have a necklace gift wrapped in a department store, and Atkinson's character starts his job.  After placing the necklace in a nice box, the clerk pulls out a clear plastic bag, to which Rickman says, "Oh, I don't need a bag."  Clerk: Oh, this isn't a bag.  This is so much more than a bag, sir.  He then proceeds to scoop potpourri from a potpourri drawer into the bag, a cinnamon stick, and a sprig of holly, all to the disgruntled and hurried dismay of Rickman's character - I lose it every time, with tears in my eyes - hysterical!  Just a wonderful movie about how people in love show their love, and it gets me into the Christmas mood like nothing else.  

Santa Claus came a bit early this year.  A few weeks ago, I wrote an essay for a competition within the Fulbright network, and it turns out I was selected as one of the winners!  I'm going on an all-expenses paid trip to Luxembourg, Brussels, and Bruges the first week of March to attend conferences at NATO and the UN, and, of course, there's lots of sightseeing built into the week.  I'm really, really excited because I think the opportunity to see how these bodies work will be interesting, and on top of that, I get to visit two countries I've always wanted to explore.  The perks of this job keep revealing themselves, and I'm so thankful to be here.  

We're throwing a Christmas party on Sunday, and I've volunteered to make lasagna.  Had I known just how difficult it would have been to collect the ingredients, I mightn't have suggested it, but, I think we're set.  "Italian sausage" is a purely American invention, I've come to realize.  After scouring six big stores here, and three smaller Italian specialty shops, I had to resort to buying the ground pork and seasoning it myself - fingers crossed, it's edible!  I'm using my mom's recipe, which, with the exception of the Immaculate Conception and the grammatical tense, is the only perfect thing in this universe.  No pressure or anything, but I hope it comes out okay for everyone's sake.  Wish me luck!