Anticipating Transitions

One of the most beautiful things about the world we inhabit is that nothing is permanent.  Though it sometimes takes an extraordinarily long time, everything we see is in a constant state of change, of transformation.  Some changes are longed for, others are dreaded with hopeless avoidance, and still others occur without anyone noticing at all. We are bound to an unstoppable cycle of growth to decay, rise to fall, new to old.  One of the most pronounced of these changes is the seasonal pattern.  Just last week, after what had been a long, dark, and cold winter, I was laying alongside the winding river, sprawled out on raised embankment looking across the river to the Altstadt with its steeples and belfries reaching towards the base of the fortress dominating the city with the towering Alps off in the distance.  As I basked in warm sunlight, rereading my favorite book, F. Scott Fitzgerald's This Side of Paradise, drinking a grapefruit Radler from the local brewery, donning my sunglasses and polo shirt, feeling the warm breeze pass through my hair, birds in the tree above whistled to one another, while gulls played in the rapidly flowing river below me.  A puppy was splashing in the shallow bank, people either running or cycling, walking or taking a moment's respite from the workday to absorb the sun's energy.  It felt like we were on the brink of a new start, a fresh spring and all that that promises, from rich blue skies and long days, to the fresh fragrance of flowers and a green so deep in hue, that it makes one consider if he's ever truly seen the color before.  Spring would be a welcome change, but it was not yet to be.  Down to freezing temperatures and a snow blanketed city today, and not a warm day in sight.  

Some transitions are monumental in the eyes of the world, though, and are cemented in history.  Yesterday was one of those transitions.  In the world's smallest country, the successor to a 2,000 year old institution, the caretaker of 1.2 billion souls, the Roman Pontiff was elected.  I watched the event as it unraveled through the BBC, and at first, I wondered what it must have been like to have been there in Bernini's masterful Square, celebrating the announcement, but then I heard it.   I flung open my windows and in flowed the powerful sound of every Church in Salzburg ringing its bells it unified joy at the return to the throne.  The peeling bells sounded for an hour, notifying everyone of the momentous news.  That moment, of opening my windows to the sound of bells, made me realize just how significant an event that really was.  Churches all over the world let their bells loose.  Every news station had its cameras pointed at that famous chimney above the Sistine Chapel, as they did when the new Pope addressed the world for the first time from that imposing loggia on St. Peter's massive façade.  Catholic or not, it was one of the few events to have brought the entire world together in awareness, marking the transition of the most covered person in the world, from old to new.

This week has been one of anticipation and transition.  At school, teachers and students alike have become restless at the thought of sitting in classrooms for hours a day.  I, myself, have felt the initial spark fade, and now it seems as if one long, monotonous obligation.  Everyone seems to be ready for spring to come, for a change of climate and atmosphere, for a change of routine and possibility.  

At the last minute, my brother let us know that he had been granted 15 days of leave from active duty in Afghanistan to visit me here in Europe.  He will have made a transition, too.  It's been nearly a year since we have since each other last, and it has been months since he has seen the United States, instead seeing the plainness of desert in a tired war zone.  After days of travelling, he should arrive tomorrow.  We've both changed, of that I am sure.  We've both been living our lives in different spheres, trying to make the best of our lives the way we know how.  We've experienced very different worlds, and I am interested to see how his view of the world has been altered since his latest stage of the game.  I cannot begin to imagine what it'll be like for him, coming from the cesspool of the Earth to what I consider paradise, fully knowing that it will only last the two weeks before having to return to that place from which he recently departed.  

But then again, that is the game of life we play, into that eternal rotation of experiences, of changes.  For better or for worse, they are what they are, and we must accept them as they come.  They're what make life special, the changes.  If everything stayed constant, if everything were perfect, to what value on life could we ascribe?  Without the transitions, without the imperfections, we would never, could never, understand the beauty, the good, the wonderful in our lives.  Life is full of changes.  Anticipate them.  Embrace them.  Remember them.  I'm ready with open arms.  

The Heart of Europe

Over the course of the past week I was privileged to participate in a seminar with a cohort of Fulbright fellows from across Europe.  Our topic: the EU and NATO.  The adventure began with a too-early train ride to the airport in Munich, boarding on time, experiencing electrical failure, having to switch planes, having to sit in plane for 2 hours while snow was removed, arriving late at my destination, consequently missing the group bus, having to buy a ticket to the most random country ever, and then, upon arrival, realizing my phone's internet wasn't working, which meant that not only was I in a strange city, but I also didn't know where my hotel was or what is was called.  Wonderful.  Thank God I had looked on Google Maps a few weeks ago, because I remembered Avenue John F. Kennedy, and, after 3 hours of seemingly senseless wandering, I was taking my shoes off in my beautiful hotel room overlooking the illuminated city below.  It was an ordeal, and I missed a reception at the ambassador's residence, but on the bright side, unlike everyone else, I got to explore the old city, which was incredible!  Luxembourg sits on a series of three hills, with wide valleys separating each fortified hilltop, with impressive Romanesque viaducts crossing the open space, connecting each part of the city to another.  My favorite part of Luxembourg was dinner.  Everyone else was snacking on tartines, I walked down a side street near the palace and stumbled upon a hole in the wall place, Bistrot de la Presse.  I walked inside and was instantly greeted by the waitress at the door.  A few older men were in quiet conversation, sipping their beer at the bar and a couple were in the corner sharing a bottle of wine.  I picked a window table and ordered the day's dinner (which I had no idea what it was), paired with the local brew, a spicy lager.  The bistro was about the size of my garage, and the walls were decorated with pictures of the royal family, both new and old, which gave the place an authentic charm.  My meal came out, Chicons aux gratin, which I just discovered is an endive particular to that area called Witloof, a slightly bitter cabbage-like vegetable.  It was covered in a creamy cheese and placed under the broiler to brown.  It was served with bits of fresh ham and boiled potatoes with parsley.  To. Die. For.  The 80-something year old lady who made my dinner delivered it and sat at the table next to me to make sure I liked it - no worries, I did!  I devoured it, and seriously, it was one of the best meals I've ever had.  I was reluctant to leave, but as I did, everyone, staff and guests, said "merci et bonne soirée!"  It was my favorite moment of the week, and on top of it all, I did it in French, and boy, after a 5 year hiatus, some brushing up is in order!

I met the group in the morning.  It was fascinating to meet the other scholars, hearing their stories, what they're researching.  You can see their passion in their eyes when they start to explain their work, and I think because of that, everyone was playing their A-Game the entire week.  That's an important thing I've noticed: when people are doing what they're passionate about, they're happy, and that's something I have to take with me and remember in the future. After breakfast we headed across the street to the Court of Justice, in which resides the equivalent of the Supreme Court of the European Union.  There, we witnessed a case typical of those brought before the bench, a trademark dispute, between a Dutch bar and, coincidentally, the famous Salzburg brand, Red Bull.  Afterwards, the Lord Vice President of the court briefed us and answered our questions.  Turns out, he was a Fulbrighter himself, studied under Justice Breyer and with Chief Justice Roberts at Harvard before returning to his native Belgium as a professor.  From there, it was on to our next destination, Brussels.

Guild houses that line the Grand Place at the center of Brussels.

I enjoyed this city immensely.  It has a multicultural atmosphere, its architecture is a mixture of masterful Gothic, art nouveau, classical, and modern, its cuisine is diverse, and the old city is quaint and quickly became familiar.  Outside our hotel were stores of the four oldest chocolatiers in Belgium: Pierre Marcolini, Neuhaus, Leonidas, and Godiva, a situation which did not go untested.  When I look back, chocolate, waffles, and beer made up the majority of my diet during the week, with the occasional steak or, you know, substantive food thrown in.  It made me very happy!  There, though, we had a jam-packed schedule.  First we spent an entire day at the European Commission, the chief governing body of the European Union.  We learned about such varying issues as integration, security, environmental policy, economic policy, its history and future.  The following day, we visited the headquarters of NATO and were briefed by the U.S. Ambassador to the North Atlantic Council, who, again, was a Dutch Fulbrighter who liked the United States so much during his year of research that he stayed.  I learned so, so much about this organization during the course of the day.  In the evening, we visited the U.S. Mission to the EU, and again were briefed on its capacity.  

The final day of the seminar was spent in Bruges, a tiny city near the coast with a big history.  Once called the "Venice of the North," Bruges used to be Europe's largest port city.  Canals and rivers flow through the medieval city, and the architecture, though mosty 18th Century reproduction, brings one back to the Gothic era.  After our lectures at the College of Europe, we explored the city for a few hours before returning to Brussels to spend our last night at the hotel.

One of the many, many canals intersecting through the city center in Bruges, Belgium.

I wasn't wholly familiar with the intricacies of the EU and NATO before, or, for that matter, even some of the broader concepts, but this opportunity let me into a world that's terribly complicated and convoluted.  The EU was started over 50 years ago, as was NATO, both with a lot of backing from the U.S., primarily because America saw a stable, unified Europe as a security measure against the growing Soviet Union.  From there, both organizations have, I believe, genuinely tried to make the world a better place through integration.  Borders coming down, a common currency, a common law, and a shared goal of peace in the world.  It's not a perfect system, and its terribly bureaucratic, but I think they have the ability to do something  good for the world.  Something that really stuck me was something I learned at NATO.  In its founding document, there is a section, Article 5, which essentially says that if one member country is attacked, it is seen as attack on all members.  I was surprised that the first and only time it was invoked was after the United States was attacked on 9/11, and all member countries professed their support for America.  Even if it was only a gesture, how awesome, totally awesome, is it that nearly two dozen countries who, within the past 100 years, had been warring against each other, came together under the shield of peace and were willing to aid a country whose people had suffered at the hands of injustice. We have hundreds of countries, thousands of languages, millions of differences, billions of people, and yet, with organizations such as these, and actions like theirs on September 11th, the world is becoming smaller and smaller with each passing day, more unified, more friendly, more safe, more understanding, and I think that's pretty darn cool.  

The Adventure Continues

Snow, sub-freezing temperatures, seemingly perpetually grey skies, clouds, an endless haze that obscures the mountains across the flat lands bordering the city, Salzburg suffers unconscionably long and severe winters.  I remember the last time I was here, I had arrived at the beginning of February, and that one particular month stands out as the most miserable month of my life.  So bitingly cold that after walking for a minute or so, one's extremities go numb and it is sometimes necessary to pop inside for a moment's respite from the frigidness of February. It has been so cold that the motivation to explore and keep active long faded away, and this place's redeeming qualities fall into obscurity.  It's almost over, though, and the forecast for March's first week promises temperatures a full ten degrees higher, a hopeful sign that Spring will be here before we know it - and I think we are all really, really anxious for it!  Yesterday, for example, I was caught off guard in an Alpine valley by a terribly bright glare from above.  "What is happening?" I wondered.  "What is this magnificent, warmth emitting orb of light and goodness above me?"  It's no exaggeration when I say that I haven't seen the sun in weeks, and boy, was it glorious.  Hat, gloves, and coat off, continuing my way in the short-lived, and sorely missed sunlight.  

Last Saturday I decided to make the most of these dreary days and joined a few of the girls from some downhill skiing, my first time.  We traveled about an hour south to a popular local resort, where I hired a private instructor to teach me the ropes for a few hours.  Lessons in intimidation and humiliation were in order.  Small kids who couldn't have been taller than my hip were whizzing down the slopes, and getting the hang of the sport quicker and with more precision than I could have performed after a morning-long course.  I stuck with it, though, and after a few falls and bruises, I learned an awful lot.  It looks so, so much easier than it really is, and I'm looking forward to the next time I could take a lesson to be better able to ski on my own some day.  Absolutely exhilarating.  

Sunday afternoon, a German friend from CUA decided to visit for a couple of days.  We went inside a few Churches the first day, attended sung Vespers in the oldest monastic institution north of the Alps, and had some good meals.  The second day started off with a tour of Maria Plain, a basilica on the pilgrim trail, El Camino de Santiago de Compostela, laying just north of Salzburg.  Then we rode through the nearby Alps to one of my favorite places on the planet, Berchtesgaden at the base of the Obersalzberg, the heaven-like former Nazi resort high above on the mountainsides.  We parked at the deserted museum, and I led the way through the woods to an unmarked spot, where you can see the foundation and remains of Hitler's retreat home, the Berghof.  It's really cool to see something like that, to stand where it once stood, covered in moss and trees, under the noses of many oblivious tourists who have no idea it's still there.  We then continued through the woods and I showed my friend the former S.S. headquarters, which is now a private home, in original condition.  When we walked closer, we spotted something that I hadn't noticed before - the S.S.'s own entrance to the Führerbunker located deep under the mountain that connected nearly all of the Nazi elites' homes to a giant network of underground hideaways.  Will have to explore that more once the ground thaws, but still very, very incredible for a history buff like myself!  We then went to a sleepy town a good ways north of Salzburg called Oberndorf, where the chapel in which "Silent Night" was composed.  Afterwards, we were on the road home, or so I thought, when we came to a village called Braunau am Inn.  I guess in keeping with the morning's theme, my friend thought it would be neat to visit this place, which is noted for being the birthplace and ancestral home of Hitler. 

Unadorned and often unnoticed, it is the home of one of the modern era's most brutal men, Adolf Hitler.

A decrepit building in the city center, empty and dark, filled with cobwebs and furniture covered in years of dust and debris, the house was all locked up and we could only peek through the windows.  Nothings marks the house, no signs, no lights or maps, no people, no life, only a rock near the street taken from nearby Mauthausen, the concentration camp quarry, on which was written a few phrases condemning fascism.  It was so plain, that we actually walked right past it the first time around.  It was eerie, spooky in fact.  It really makes you wonder, what makes people tick - what transforms a person into doing something extreme?  Where does it comes from, and what happens once they've left their mark once they've gone - 70 years later, and we're still unsure.  

"For Peace, Freedom, and Democacy / Never Again Fascism / Millions of Dead Remind"

On a lighter note, I once again headed to the mountains, and tried cross country skiing yesterday.  I liked it a lot more than my first foray into skiing, mainly because I felt as if I commanded more control over speed, balance, and direction, and ultimately felt a lot safer.  My skiing partner for the day told me that it's one of the best workouts someone can do, and now, feeling the burn of muscles I didn't even know I had, I fully believe that!  Was a lot of fun, and the sun did come out, which was terrific.  Just one day of teaching this week, and then I'm off to Luxembourg and Belgium through Sunday, both new countries and cultures for me, and I can't wait!

The Gift of Friendship

The past seven days have been a roller coaster of emotions, from bliss to sadness.  My closest friends here in Salzburg left Saturday.  Unlike the Americans, who are here for the academic year, many of the English girls stayed only for a semester.  A few of them study multiple languages, so now they're on to their next assignment abroad before they return to their university in autumn to finish their degrees.  

On Wednesday, I met up with one of my friends, Alice, and we went to a quaint café hidden in one of the narrow alleys in the Altstadt.  It had been two years since I'd visited, first having gone for a "pastry testing" seminar back in 2011.  It's several hundred years old, and has maybe 8 tables inside, surrounding the counter stocked with delectable homemade cakes, pastries, cookies, and chocolate.  We shared a table in the corner for over an hour, just chatting away.  The gang had plans to meet up for drinks later that night, so instead of parting ways for a bit,  I invited her over to my shoe box of a room for dinner.  After making the last batch of Antonio's pasta from his shop around the corner together, we headed over to Steinterrasse, a rooftop bar on the river that offers spectacular views of the city across the way.  This was one of the first places in Salzburg we went to back in October, so it sort of seemed like coming full circle near the end.

Thursday was a busy day of shopping and prepping for the big "Abschiedsessen" (farewell dinner) we were throwing for our departing friends.  I sort of took the reins in planning the party, so I suggested a menu of what I know how to cook - Italian - and the proposal was decided upon as soon as I mentioned it!  For antipasti we had roasted red peppers, marinated green olives with orange zest, fennel, and parsley, crostini with bruschetta, a plate of ham and salami, fresh mozzarella with fresh basil and a balsamic reduction, and my grandmother's recipe for bambini, which are a little pastry stuffed with ricotta, mozzarella, pecorino romano, and a slice of pepperoni, all of which was homemade!  The sauce cooked for about 5 hours, and we had pasta a few hours into the party.  The girls made all sorts of cakes and cookies for dessert, too.  We cooked for 14 people, and it was my first time making a big meal like that, so I'm so happy it went over well, but now I can totally appreciate why my mom is so tired after making the holiday meal!  We spent the night talking and playing games, and it was a lot of fun.

Friday was the last night we'd have together, and we did it the only way one can do it in Salzburg - with some of us dressed in Tracht, we hit perhaps our favorite place in town, Augustinerbräu.  We claimed a big table in one of the airy halls, and we all brought our dinner a la picnic (which you can do), and had a wonderful time together over good beer, with lots of fun card games, and it was just great to be all together one last time.  Most of the gang left once Augustiner closed at 11, but of few of us weren't ready to call it a night, so we walked across the river to a little place for a few drinks.  We left around 2:30am, and then it started to get hard, saying bye to each of them in turn.  Alice was had to walk the other way, so we said our farewell first, and then within five minutes, the other Alice, Rachel, and lastly Cecilia.  

I guess that I was so tired that night that I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, but when I woke up in the morning, I felt it.  Something like an emptiness.  "Now what do I do?," I thought to myself.  I won't lie, I had a few tears race down my cheek throughout the day, and I know I'll have to strengthen the friendships I have here to get to that level of comfort I enjoyed with my friends who've just left, but, as Antoine de Saint-Exupéry once penned, "The tender friendships that one gives up, on parting, leave their bite on the heart, but also a curious feeling of a treasure somewhere buried," and in that, I find great comfort.  I had the time of my life with these special people, three of them in particular, and I will carry the memories we share forever, and I know that our friendship will live beyond our time together here in Austria.  I miss them terribly, and I'll wish they could see this place in spring in all its grandeur, but on the bright side, I now have friends in some really cool places around Europe that I could visit!  In this neck of the woods, people don't say "goodbye," but rather, "auf Wiederschauen," which means, "until we see each other again."  I like saying that a lot more than "goodbye," especially in this case.

I've thought a lot about life's experiences since they've gone, and I've come to the same conclusion over and over again - without the people to make life beautiful, being here in this city, as magnificent as it is, wouldn't be nearly enjoyable.  It's the people that touch you, who add special meaning to adventures, and to whom you look back when remembering the past.  It's the people that forever change you, and leave their indelible mark on your soul.  How wonderful a gift, to have been blessed with the friendship of amazing individuals.  Even if I leave this experience with nothing else, I will walk away having forged three friendships, and you know what, I can hardly contain how great a feeling that is.

Alice, Alice, myself, Cecilia, and Rachel - Augustinerbräu.

A Needed Respite

The week is entirely free.  The university is closed for the month of February, and the high school in which I teach is closed for the week, as its their semester break.  Even after only a weekend, I can feel some of the stress leaving my body, as I don't have to worry about classes, catching the bus, writing papers, or setting my alarm clock.  It's a welcome change.

On Saturday, a few of us ventured out near the airport to the chic Hangar 7, home to a fine collection of aircraft, automobiles, and other high-speed vehicles, which were purchased and restored by Red Bull owner and Salzburg local, Dietrich Mateschitz, who's opened his playground to the public, free of charge.  Among the displays were an original Checker cab from NYC, a Navy F4-U from World War II, a USMC Cobra, and the last produced DC-6, which was previously owned by Tito, the late Yugoslavian dictator.  It was a pretty cool way to kill an hour, and after seeing the place, we're going to try and head back for dinner one night at the restaurant within, which is home to a Michelin-starred chef de cuisine.  Granted, we'll have to save a bit before we can tackle that one!  

Seeing things like this will never get old!

On Sunday morning I braved the cold to attend the first event I attended upon arrival in Salzburg during my semester abroad in 2011 - the Metzgersprung.  This centuries old tradition always occurs on the Sunday before Lent, and has its Catholic ties, as well.  After a special Mass, members of the butcher's guild parade around the Altstadt in traditional costumes, lead by a Trachten marching band, to the square inside the Archabbey of St. Peter, which was the first monastic institution north of the Alps.  There, surrounded by hundreds of locals, young apprentices studying for the butcher trade are initiated.  First, these young men must jump into a giant barrel of water, symbolically cleansing them for their profession and for Lent.  Then, they must climb to the third story balcony where they must spin the massive banner of the guild suspended from a 15 foot pole around, 6 times clockwise and 6 times counterclockwise, to symbolize both strength and commitment to the guild.  Two of my students were among the 10 or so boys being initiated.  One of them was first to spin this banner, which, by the way, has been the same banner and pole used for this ceremony since 1849.  After 2 spins, the pole snapped and tore the banner.  Some gasped, and some laughed, but the officials were stunned and shocked - they did not know what to do, and so cancelled the remainder of the ceremony.  I've never seen someone turn such a deep shade of red before, the poor guy!  It was fun to take part in that tradition again, though.

Destroying the remnant of a 160 year old tradition: Priceless.

I don't have plans for the week, really.  A good friend of mine is hoping to visit later in the week, but other than that, I think I'll just plan each day by ear, hoping to take advantage of some of the sun that we're supposed to get.  I'll also be going skiing on Saturday with a few friends, which'll be my first time.  I'm not expecting a wild success, more like lots of bruises, but I'm really, really looking forward to it, and I'm sure it'll be a lot of fun.  In other news, the Pope's retiring.  Hasn't happened in nearly 600 years, so that's the big buzz here today.