Here We Go

The end is in sight, the time flies as the weather betters, and the feeling that 'soon this'll be over' is starting to set in.  It's been an amazing adventure since its start in September, and with the past few weeks having been as incredible as they were, there's a strong indication that my time here will go out with a bang.

Last Friday I caught an early train to Vienna, perhaps my favorite city.  I took the metro right into the heart of the Altstadt and rose from underground to meet the intricate façade of the great Cathedral rising high above the city.  It's towering spire was caressed in soft sunlight, and the roof's colorful mosaic tiles were glistening brightly under the radiantly blue sky.  A little walk through narrow, shaded streets, past varied architecture, including Otto Wagner's once-radical post office, I found myself amidst an unruly garden with trees hanging over walkways, benches with elderly couples sitting intimately, sharing the experience of watching the city slowly come alive for the start of a new day, monuments to masters of music stand surrounded by beds of brilliantly vibrant tulips, sprinklers sputtering the last rush of water before being reclaimed by the ground, the lone police officer keeping watch over the growing bustle through his tinted red glasses.  There are few things in life which are as magical as witnessing a great metropolis come to life at the start of the day.  

The Wiener Sezession, "To each age it's art, to art it's freedom."  

I walked along the winding paths of the Stadtpark, working my way around the Ring, on to the Karlsplatz, past the Islamic-influenced Karlskirche with its engraved minarets flanking the cross-topped copper dome.  My first stop of the day was the famed Café Museum, originally designed by Alfred Loos, diagonally across from the famous Wiener Sezession venue, and the old haunt of architects and artists alike, where I had a scrumptious Schwarzwälderkirschtorte (black forest cake, thankfully with morello instead of maraschino cherries) and a Melange.  Heavenly.  From there, it was on to a yet another Viennese landmark, Café Sperl, for a much needed water, as the temperature had climbed to nearly 80°.  This place definitely gave off a different vibe than the rest I had visited.  It was simple, worn, if not downright grungy, and I could definitely see how it became the favored café of a blue collar, failed artist by the name of Adolf Hitler.  It wasn't really my cup of tea, as it were.  Off I was again, but this time, keeping sure to stick to the shady side of the street. I was to meet up with a friend and her boyfriend, and when I arrived early, I ordered a Radler, which is half beer, half lemon soda, and drank it like it was water!  The place was a real hole in the wall, and filled with locals, and after my friends arrived, I did not expect what was to come.  A mountain of Schnitzel...a mountain!  Two massive pieces of fried meat, hanging off the plate in all directions, sat before each of us.  More food than any one person should attempt at a time, it was crazy good!  My friend, Margi, had promised it would be better than my newly beloved Figlmüller, and boy, was she right!  Probably the best Schnitzel I've ever had, and I will definitely be making a return visit before I head home. We had a really fun time chatting, laughing, but then the day had to continue and we were both off.  I made my way to another favorite place in Vienna, the hallowed Staatsoper, to meet another friend, Daniel, for a night at the opera.  We waited in line a bit for our tickets, and raced up to grab out spot, dead center, a few floors up.  The orchestra began with a roar, and then we were in for an emotional roller coaster.  Puccini's La bohème, my desert island opera.  A simple story in Paris' Montmartre about poor artists falling in love under the moon, the struggles of life, the death of a lover, the opera's music is beyond romantic, filled with tenderness, passion, and sounding like a classic film soundtrack.  It's arias still give me goosebumps, and it's reality permeate every cell in my body.  It speaks to me, as it does to so, so many, and brings me into the core of its emotion, letting me go only in the final chords - the final chords, which signify the soprano's death, which are written in a major key (unheard of for 'sad' music), and make the sadness even more terrifying and heartbreaking.  It's an opera that is about life and love, and it's rapture gets me every time.  Incredible to see it on the stage.

The quiet, dingy Café Sperl hidden away on a Viennese side street.

May 1st, Maifest, closes schools and businesses across Austria, and much of Europe, for a holiday to honor the laborers, a tradition in Austria restarted and codified only after the annexation with Germany in March 1938.  The more traditional provinces celebrate the day with traditions rooted in paganism associated with preparing for the growing season of spring and the return of longer days and warmer sun.  Villagers clad in Tracht (Lederhosen and Dirndl) amass in a field or public square for the raising of the Maibaum, a decorated tree, nearly 100ft. tall in Salzburg's case.  By a simple system of supports and pulleys, the tree is gradually raised by men throughout the day, sure to rest for the necessary beer.  At the end of the day, once the tree has been set in place, youngsters are encouraged to try and climb the tree to reach the treats suspended near the top.  As I experienced with the national holiday on 26 October, not a single student over the past 2 weeks could explain why Austrians celebrate May 1st.  To them, it's a day off from work to wear traditional costumes and drink beer with friends.  To me, and apparently to them, today's celebrations remain cryptic, and I'm not entirely sure of the significance behind any of the customs, and again, this sense of little civic knowledge surprises me - it's so foreign.  

Raising of the Maibaum for Maifest.

Yesterday I had run out of my coveted Pecorino Romano and headed to the shop around the corner to pick up some more.  It was the end of the day, and Antonio's father was manning the shop, singing to himself as he cleaned up some knives behind the counter.  To him, I'm the "Americano," and his face brightened when I approached.  Without saying a word, he reached into the display and grabbed the wheel of my cheese.  As I was about to leave, he threw in a loaf of fresh bread from Udine, and poured me a small jar of freshly pressed olive oil from his family's farm south of the border, as a gift.  He told me to forget the pasta tonight - cut a thick slice of bread, a paper thin slice of pecorino, and dip it into some of this oil with a bit of fine balsamic vinegar.  Wearing a red bow tie, a white apron, hunched over and with wrinkled face, with a voice like Corelli and a heart of gold, he's the type of man you want to pick up and place in your pocket to keep with you always, and he sure as heck knows good eats.  Bread, oil, cheese.  Throw in a light Chianti, and dinner's on the table.  Mmmm!

Monday evening I planned my final teaching schedule with my supervisor, and get this, I'll work a whopping 5 days in the whole of May.  He's given me plenty of opportunities to travel around my classes, and my final scheduled "class" actually consists of him taking me out for a drink.  Many of my Fifth Form (final year) students are preparing for Friday's Matura, or final examination, and have been taking me out with a small group of students for beer, simply so they could practice their English.  In doing that, in meeting with them and shooting the wind, I've seen a different side of them, and they of me, and a few of us actually consider each other friends now, which is a really remarkable thing.  I came into this year thinking that I'd have very little effect on the kids, but now, after nearly a year, even though I haven't often visited with the classes, I see just how much I've learned, how I've changed simply by being with them.  It hasn't always been fun, but I think we worked together every time we met to break down walls, to search for the truth, to explain how we see both see the world, and to try and find our place in it.  It's a rewarding feeling, and I think I'll be able to look back on this experience and smile knowing just how great an influence both of us have had on each other, and that, my friends, is a beautiful thing.