Last we spoke I'd just hitting an unfortunate security guard in the face almost a month ago. Since then my time here has been quite the whirlwind of activities, and while I have had much more to report I've done significantly less reporting through my blog and almost none via email. Its too bad because I could use some exciting posts to balance out the ones about my socks and toothpaste. Partially because it'd be a lot to write (and read), and also because I've been rather partial to lists of late, I will now enumerate the awesome things that have happened in the past month or so that you should ask me to tell you about because...well...they were awesome.
Purely in Order of recolection
1) I went sailing on the Old Danube.
2) The EuroCup 2008 hosted by Austria and Switzerland. Its on going and getting increasingly crazier
3) Done with classes and mere pages of writing away from the end of the semester.
4)Bratislava
5) the Symphony. Twice!
6) More cool museum trips including one back to the Essl in the viennese 'burbs.
7) Schonbrunn Palace, and with it the completion of everything i wanted to be sure to do before i left vienna.
8) The farewell tour of bars, cafes and restaurants.
I return home in a matter of days and after a little bit of rest by the pool I'm moving to nyc for a little over a month. I hope to be tramping around New York much in the same way I've been tramping around vienna and the rest of europe which would theoretically mean this blog is still relevant but I haven't decided if I'll keep updating it. Probably not, but one thing I learned from Sean Connery is to never say never again. That and that "winners go home and..." you know the rest.
For now at least,
Tchuss!
Friday, June 20, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
How Not Speaking German Has Helped Me In Austria
After a few days rain Vienna has run into another stretch of beautiful days. After class on Saturday we had a nice lunch in the park on the grass. And in keeping with that motif we went to MuseumsQuartier that night and had a few drinks on the steps of the MuMoK (but not before going to see the new Indiana Jones!). It was quite nice and the fact that it was cheap didn't hurt either. What did hurt was when I hit a security guard in the face with a frisbee.
ya.
We were tossing the disc around while walking out of MQ. As we were passing under the main archway we stopped and waited for someone to come back from the bathroom. I'd say its about 20 feet wide but the catch is there are columns that break up the space. Here we must pause to make clear a crucial fact. When a group of people who like to play frisbee are in possession of a disc, there is no restriction, physical cultural or otherwise, that will stop them from throwing said disc around.
So there we were throwing around in a confined space. It was great. Weaving in and out of columns. Dodging passer-bys, some of whom even got in on the action. There was one passer-by who was not so keen on the game though. Some security guard-esque man had grumbled something at us but not really done much before he just walked away so we continued on. At one point Josh cut behind a pillar so I stepped to the left and threw the disc where he should have been had his path and speed remained consistent. But where he should have been was not where he was. It was where the guard was.
The guard had cut infront of Josh presumably to tell him to stop running around, but I didn't see that. So when I threw the disc to "josh" i really threw it to the security guard, more precisely, to his nose. square in the nose. BAM.
Needless to say he was not thrilled and stormed towards me demanding my Identification. I got that much. Its not hard to understand someone yelling NAME NAME NAME NAME NAME at you, or rather, its german equivalent. But then he went on talking very quickly and very angerly. Matt says he heard something about having to pay, but i missed that. All I could say was excuse me repeatedly and then I finally had to bust out the old standard, I don't speak German. Perhaps my most used German phrase after, a coffee please. He seemed doubtful but eventually the dumb founded look on my face convinced him I was telling the truth. In the end, he just told us to leave. And we did, with haste.
Having learned our lesson we then proceeded to play catch over the Ringstrasse, central Vienna's main traffic artery, on the walk back to the UBahn. I mean we were outside so I don't see how that could have been a problem. I also want to clarify that I was not in the slightest bit drunk.
I'm still a little shocked.
ya.
We were tossing the disc around while walking out of MQ. As we were passing under the main archway we stopped and waited for someone to come back from the bathroom. I'd say its about 20 feet wide but the catch is there are columns that break up the space. Here we must pause to make clear a crucial fact. When a group of people who like to play frisbee are in possession of a disc, there is no restriction, physical cultural or otherwise, that will stop them from throwing said disc around.
So there we were throwing around in a confined space. It was great. Weaving in and out of columns. Dodging passer-bys, some of whom even got in on the action. There was one passer-by who was not so keen on the game though. Some security guard-esque man had grumbled something at us but not really done much before he just walked away so we continued on. At one point Josh cut behind a pillar so I stepped to the left and threw the disc where he should have been had his path and speed remained consistent. But where he should have been was not where he was. It was where the guard was.
The guard had cut infront of Josh presumably to tell him to stop running around, but I didn't see that. So when I threw the disc to "josh" i really threw it to the security guard, more precisely, to his nose. square in the nose. BAM.
Needless to say he was not thrilled and stormed towards me demanding my Identification. I got that much. Its not hard to understand someone yelling NAME NAME NAME NAME NAME at you, or rather, its german equivalent. But then he went on talking very quickly and very angerly. Matt says he heard something about having to pay, but i missed that. All I could say was excuse me repeatedly and then I finally had to bust out the old standard, I don't speak German. Perhaps my most used German phrase after, a coffee please. He seemed doubtful but eventually the dumb founded look on my face convinced him I was telling the truth. In the end, he just told us to leave. And we did, with haste.
Having learned our lesson we then proceeded to play catch over the Ringstrasse, central Vienna's main traffic artery, on the walk back to the UBahn. I mean we were outside so I don't see how that could have been a problem. I also want to clarify that I was not in the slightest bit drunk.
I'm still a little shocked.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
I Need a Haircut!
The title more or less says it all. I got my hair cut the shortest its been since I let a high school teacher buzz my head on a bet (yeah i know it was stupid), but for me that doesn't really mean it was objectively short. I figured I'd could either ride out the semester or get a haircut here if need be. I was leaning towards the former because of my fierce loyalty to Laura (the woman who cuts my hair) but that lean turned into a definitive stance when I saw the hair styles this mystical land had to offer. Most of them are strange combinations of mohawks and mullets and I know, I know, that going abroad is about experiencing new things, but not that. I haven't got much time left here so I'll probably grit my teeth and bear it, but I'm starting to look like my good buddy Ralph so we shall see.
Ralph
Devendra Banhart -- Long Haired Child
i can't put up the music now for some reason or another but i'll try it again later.
RalphDevendra Banhart -- Long Haired Child
i can't put up the music now for some reason or another but i'll try it again later.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Bonjour! Je voudrais ein wasser bitte. Danke.
Upon my return from 4 days in Paris I'm am confronted with a blogger's dilemma. To write a simple summary of the things I did over the course of those days would consume a lot of time and effort for a final result that would not be a particularly engaging read. But I can't just not write about Paris if I hope to continue this blog throughout the rest of my time abroad. There can be no art that doesn't take Paris into account. Quite the conundrum.
So then, the news in brief(ish).
Pianos in the Bathroom: A business associate of my parents recommended that during my visit I find an old friend of hers who rents rooms in her house to weary travelers. The business associate spent two years living in Paris and for those two years rented a room in the very same place. As a place in the middle of the 7th Arr. I expected a pretty big apartment with an extra bedroom. What I found, set back from the street about 30 yards, was a three floor house with a private garden and huge bedrooms for a temporary guests such as my self as well as three long term guests. In some ways it was an exercise in compromise. To get a huge bedroom I had to defend my bed from cats who thought themselves more entitled. To use my big private bathroom, complete with out of tune upright piano, I had to step over a line of ants dutifully working. Overall though it was a fantastic place. The private garden, the central location blocks away from the likes of Musee D'Orsay, and most of all, the incredible hospitality of my host could not be beat.
A Linguistic Reawakening: After about two hours of talking to strangers in Frallemand, or Franzödeutsche if you prefer, my faltering high school french skills came back and I was able conduct almost all cursory interactions exclusively in French. The most emblematic anecdote of my french usage came when I asked an older man for directions in french. He responded in a detailed manner also in french. Then again, in french, what I can only assume was his wife pulled him aside and asked him if he thought I understood. Not only did I understand the directions but I understood her doubt. I could get by fairly well, but nonetheless my french was not good enough to inspire much confidence in my conversational partners.
Tourist Extraordinaire: I hit most of the major sites (the centre Pompidou among my favorite heavy hitters of the trip), at least from the outside, and with the help of some people I know currently studying in Paris, I also saw a few things I'd never seen before. The Marais was one of the new areas we explored and it featured some of the best dressed orthodox jews I've ever seen. They waved good bye to the black suit/white shirt uniform long ago, but I'd expect nothing less of Paris. One of the most effective, not to mention cheap, ways to see a city in my mind is by walking around, and I spent a lot, like a lot a lot, of time wearing down the soles of my shoes. The fact that I'd be out for 14+ hours at a time also didn't hurt.
The Greatest Pizza in the World: Seriously. Its the greatest pizza I've ever had in my life. And I refused to leave Paris with having some again. And for you pizza purist know this, its not run by frenchmen. Its called Pizzaria Positano. The address is 15 Rue des Canettes. The phone number is 01 43 26 01 62. They're closed on sundays. They don't take reservations so be prepared to wait because I, and now you, are not the only people who know how amazing the food is there. Every time my parent and I are in Paris we wander the general neighborhood looking for this restaurant with success coming only after about an hour's delay caused by walking down the wrong street. It is a little tough to find but once I did I made sure to grab a stack of business cards so now I have proof of this place's existence that exists outside my imagination. Victory!
Paris into the Future: I'm thinking of going back and bumming around for a few weeks to a month after I graduate but I suppose that depends on what I end up doing with my life in the ever approaching future. But lets not talk about that quite yet.
So then, the news in brief(ish).
Pianos in the Bathroom: A business associate of my parents recommended that during my visit I find an old friend of hers who rents rooms in her house to weary travelers. The business associate spent two years living in Paris and for those two years rented a room in the very same place. As a place in the middle of the 7th Arr. I expected a pretty big apartment with an extra bedroom. What I found, set back from the street about 30 yards, was a three floor house with a private garden and huge bedrooms for a temporary guests such as my self as well as three long term guests. In some ways it was an exercise in compromise. To get a huge bedroom I had to defend my bed from cats who thought themselves more entitled. To use my big private bathroom, complete with out of tune upright piano, I had to step over a line of ants dutifully working. Overall though it was a fantastic place. The private garden, the central location blocks away from the likes of Musee D'Orsay, and most of all, the incredible hospitality of my host could not be beat.
A Linguistic Reawakening: After about two hours of talking to strangers in Frallemand, or Franzödeutsche if you prefer, my faltering high school french skills came back and I was able conduct almost all cursory interactions exclusively in French. The most emblematic anecdote of my french usage came when I asked an older man for directions in french. He responded in a detailed manner also in french. Then again, in french, what I can only assume was his wife pulled him aside and asked him if he thought I understood. Not only did I understand the directions but I understood her doubt. I could get by fairly well, but nonetheless my french was not good enough to inspire much confidence in my conversational partners.
Tourist Extraordinaire: I hit most of the major sites (the centre Pompidou among my favorite heavy hitters of the trip), at least from the outside, and with the help of some people I know currently studying in Paris, I also saw a few things I'd never seen before. The Marais was one of the new areas we explored and it featured some of the best dressed orthodox jews I've ever seen. They waved good bye to the black suit/white shirt uniform long ago, but I'd expect nothing less of Paris. One of the most effective, not to mention cheap, ways to see a city in my mind is by walking around, and I spent a lot, like a lot a lot, of time wearing down the soles of my shoes. The fact that I'd be out for 14+ hours at a time also didn't hurt.
The Greatest Pizza in the World: Seriously. Its the greatest pizza I've ever had in my life. And I refused to leave Paris with having some again. And for you pizza purist know this, its not run by frenchmen. Its called Pizzaria Positano. The address is 15 Rue des Canettes. The phone number is 01 43 26 01 62. They're closed on sundays. They don't take reservations so be prepared to wait because I, and now you, are not the only people who know how amazing the food is there. Every time my parent and I are in Paris we wander the general neighborhood looking for this restaurant with success coming only after about an hour's delay caused by walking down the wrong street. It is a little tough to find but once I did I made sure to grab a stack of business cards so now I have proof of this place's existence that exists outside my imagination. Victory!
Paris into the Future: I'm thinking of going back and bumming around for a few weeks to a month after I graduate but I suppose that depends on what I end up doing with my life in the ever approaching future. But lets not talk about that quite yet.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Lost In Translation
Throughout this semester, whenever I've been placed in a non-german speaking City (namely Prague and Budapest) its really highlighted just how functional I've become in alt Wien. I can order coffee like champ and I've even help a few lost souls find their way through the subway system, albeit with broken sentences and superfluous hand gestures. Perhaps I've gotten cocky of late because the universe saw fit to knock me down a language peg or two.
The end of last week was characterized by some Parisian visitors which Matt John and I spent a good amount of time taking to our favorite places to drink, eat and well drink some more. Sidenote: most of my time outside my room is spent with coffee in hand. One night on the way to our favorite/only Indian restaurant we emerged to be confronted by the dreaded u-bahn ticket checkers. While their threat is omnipresent, I've only had to show my ticket 3 times since I got here.
With my monthly ticket in hand and a friendly smile I approached the woman who had stopped us. She took my ticket, returned the smile and asked me a question I thought I understood. I said "No, not this night" in response and her smile disappeared faster than I realized facial muscles could move. I then gleaned that her response was something along the lines of "then I can't let you through".
This boggled my mind. See, the question I thought she asked me was "are you going out drinking tonight?" I was with 7 other people my age and I thought she was making friendly, though admittedly awkward, small talk. WRONG. She actually asked me for my student ID proving I had the right to use a student's semester u-bahn pass. The problem of the words I know for ID related things, I didn't hear any of them. I heard Trinken, to drink. So when I said no, I was essentially admitted to trying to cheat Vienna's dear old subway system. I eventually figured out what it was she really asked, showed her my school ID and continued through. Fortunately (for me at least) those traveling with me had much larger problems with their subway tickets meaning no one witnessed me make a fool of myself first hand. Still, I thought it was too funny to hide from the world.
A search of my ITunes library has yielded...
John Coltrane's Blue Train (we actually came off the orange line but disregard that)
and
M.Ward's (again i know) Chinese Translation
stay tuned for the beginning of a series highlighting some of vienna's fine establishments.
The end of last week was characterized by some Parisian visitors which Matt John and I spent a good amount of time taking to our favorite places to drink, eat and well drink some more. Sidenote: most of my time outside my room is spent with coffee in hand. One night on the way to our favorite/only Indian restaurant we emerged to be confronted by the dreaded u-bahn ticket checkers. While their threat is omnipresent, I've only had to show my ticket 3 times since I got here.
With my monthly ticket in hand and a friendly smile I approached the woman who had stopped us. She took my ticket, returned the smile and asked me a question I thought I understood. I said "No, not this night" in response and her smile disappeared faster than I realized facial muscles could move. I then gleaned that her response was something along the lines of "then I can't let you through".
This boggled my mind. See, the question I thought she asked me was "are you going out drinking tonight?" I was with 7 other people my age and I thought she was making friendly, though admittedly awkward, small talk. WRONG. She actually asked me for my student ID proving I had the right to use a student's semester u-bahn pass. The problem of the words I know for ID related things, I didn't hear any of them. I heard Trinken, to drink. So when I said no, I was essentially admitted to trying to cheat Vienna's dear old subway system. I eventually figured out what it was she really asked, showed her my school ID and continued through. Fortunately (for me at least) those traveling with me had much larger problems with their subway tickets meaning no one witnessed me make a fool of myself first hand. Still, I thought it was too funny to hide from the world.
A search of my ITunes library has yielded...
John Coltrane's Blue Train (we actually came off the orange line but disregard that)
and
M.Ward's (again i know) Chinese Translation
stay tuned for the beginning of a series highlighting some of vienna's fine establishments.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Disaster has Struck
I lost my previously mentioned bouncy ball.
It was a good ball that was taken before its time. may it rest in peace.
i only have the itunes purchases version of the song so i can't share it with you all but i WAS going to post M.Ward's Sad, Sad, Song from Transfigurations of Vincent. you could probably find it on the interweb.
It was a good ball that was taken before its time. may it rest in peace.
i only have the itunes purchases version of the song so i can't share it with you all but i WAS going to post M.Ward's Sad, Sad, Song from Transfigurations of Vincent. you could probably find it on the interweb.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
The Greatest Euro Ever Spent
With the current state of the american economy spending money around these parts is never an event with out consideration (though i find that when i spend money of booze increasingly less consideration goes into the money i spend on the next drink or end of night falafel, but i digress; and relax mom, i'm fine). but two days ago on the way back from the supermarket i made perhaps the most rewarding impulse buy to date. I spent one euro in one of those gumball type machines but instead of bad gum that got too rubbery and lost all flavor in mere seconds I got a bouncy ball! It has already provided hours of entertainment and will continue to do so for a good long while.
no music today but instead videos.
This is what happens when you combine 250000 bouncy balls and a lovely san francisco afternoon.
and this is a cool making-of video for the above ad.
no music today but instead videos.
This is what happens when you combine 250000 bouncy balls and a lovely san francisco afternoon.
and this is a cool making-of video for the above ad.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Its been two days since I've worn socks.
Three days ago a terrible thing happened. I reached into my hamper to grab a pair of socks (I don't always get around to sorting and folding my socks after I do laundry because I hate it). As I donned my foot coverings I realized that this was my last pair of socks. I had to do laundry again. damn it. Whats worse it highlighted the loss of half of my favorite pair of socks a few weeks ago, because if only i had those red and gray socks I could have made it another day.
if you've been keeping up on the Vienna blog circuit you already know that doing laundry here is a rather hellacious misadventure. Well recently things have gotten worse. For about two weeks there was only one laundry machine, which was bad but not awful because the cycle is only about 30 minutes long. Then one evening laundry room attendees were greeted with the triumphant return of the second washing machine. HUZZAH!
But just when things were looking up they got so much worse. Soon the second dryer had a sign that simply read, scrawled in pencil, "KAPUTT!" What makes this so bad is the dryer cycle here is 90 minutes and even after that your clothes still aren't dry; they're really just hot enough that the water will evaporate when you take it out of the dryer, if you're lucky. Come to think of it, its more a sauna then a dryer. Well as you may have gleaned from the title, I did not do laundry due to unavoidable delays (read: my favorite Irish pub in vienna) and have been wearing my Chucks with out socks. As a result I live in a constant state of fear that my shoes and feet will smell bad. They don't for now so I'm safe but my fear has led me to frequently remove my shoes in public.
Laundry day is tomorrow because I've run out of more than just socks now. Wish me luck.
Ryan Adams Talking about Smelly Socks before going into "Easy Plateau" during a show in, I think, Scotland.
if you've been keeping up on the Vienna blog circuit you already know that doing laundry here is a rather hellacious misadventure. Well recently things have gotten worse. For about two weeks there was only one laundry machine, which was bad but not awful because the cycle is only about 30 minutes long. Then one evening laundry room attendees were greeted with the triumphant return of the second washing machine. HUZZAH!
But just when things were looking up they got so much worse. Soon the second dryer had a sign that simply read, scrawled in pencil, "KAPUTT!" What makes this so bad is the dryer cycle here is 90 minutes and even after that your clothes still aren't dry; they're really just hot enough that the water will evaporate when you take it out of the dryer, if you're lucky. Come to think of it, its more a sauna then a dryer. Well as you may have gleaned from the title, I did not do laundry due to unavoidable delays (read: my favorite Irish pub in vienna) and have been wearing my Chucks with out socks. As a result I live in a constant state of fear that my shoes and feet will smell bad. They don't for now so I'm safe but my fear has led me to frequently remove my shoes in public.
Laundry day is tomorrow because I've run out of more than just socks now. Wish me luck.
Ryan Adams Talking about Smelly Socks before going into "Easy Plateau" during a show in, I think, Scotland.
Friday, March 21, 2008
I have tasted delicious bagels, and I cannot give them up.
I have tasted...(read down to at least the 6th paragraph. overall its a bit over-simplified but the quote is the important part in this case.)
As of a few days ago I have tasted bagels in both Prague (ps. i went to Prague for spring break) and Vienna and they were both pretty awful. Neither cheap nor filling nor even that tasty they lacked all of the 3 major attributes of a good bagel. I should have known that nothing will ever live up to Hot Bagels Abroad (150 Valley Rd. Montclair, NJ - go.)
as the bagel post might suggest a lot isn't going on right now. i'm in the midst of spring break and when its over i'll try to get a big spring break wrap up email and/or post.
but first, because the bagel is inextricably linked to a not to be named religious group, a hilarious Woody Guthrie Song.
Hanukkah Dance - Woody Guthrie - Asch Recordings
and just because I can...
Boyfriend - The Bird and the Bee
As of a few days ago I have tasted bagels in both Prague (ps. i went to Prague for spring break) and Vienna and they were both pretty awful. Neither cheap nor filling nor even that tasty they lacked all of the 3 major attributes of a good bagel. I should have known that nothing will ever live up to Hot Bagels Abroad (150 Valley Rd. Montclair, NJ - go.)
as the bagel post might suggest a lot isn't going on right now. i'm in the midst of spring break and when its over i'll try to get a big spring break wrap up email and/or post.
but first, because the bagel is inextricably linked to a not to be named religious group, a hilarious Woody Guthrie Song.
Hanukkah Dance - Woody Guthrie - Asch Recordings
and just because I can...
Boyfriend - The Bird and the Bee
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Footwear Update
As part of my on going shoe gazing (not in the usual sense of the phrase) I've made a discovery: the sweetest dress shoes ever.
Who wouldn't want those D&G wingtips?
If you want them enough to buy them, or get them for me.
Songs About Shoes! (Nominally at least)
Blue Suede Shoes - Elvis Presley
(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes - Elvis Costello
Can't Even Tie Your Own Shoes - Golden Smog (sans Tweedy)
The Other Shoe - Old 97's
Woman in the Shoes - Dengue Fever (Most of the lyrics are in Khmer so I'm not sure if this one is really about shoes, but its in the title so why not?)
I really like being able to put music on here.
Who wouldn't want those D&G wingtips?
If you want them enough to buy them, or get them for me.
Songs About Shoes! (Nominally at least)
Blue Suede Shoes - Elvis Presley
(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes - Elvis Costello
Can't Even Tie Your Own Shoes - Golden Smog (sans Tweedy)
The Other Shoe - Old 97's
Woman in the Shoes - Dengue Fever (Most of the lyrics are in Khmer so I'm not sure if this one is really about shoes, but its in the title so why not?)
I really like being able to put music on here.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Course Registration: A cruel joke
Some music to read to.
(the song's instructions evoke the complexities of online registration) Technologic - Daft Punk
At Trinity you wake up for you 7:10am enrollment appointment, prepared list of classes in hand, and stumble to your computer, log on to TConline, register for you classes and then get back in bed before it even feels like you've left. In rare circumstances you don't get into a class you want/need to take, but in most of those cases a seat in the class is just an email to the professor away (unless it's Masur's Dylan class but thats a-whole-nother story). I've gotten a pretty good handle on Trinity's registration system, and it didn't take me long to do so.
I've registered and unregistered for about 8 classes in Vienna thus far and still have no idea what the system is like. Thats mostly because there is no unified system. System implies unified parts forming an intricate whole. Every department here has its own system. The philosophy department for instance uses the main university network but requires you to assign points, up to 1000, to classes you want to get into. The history department has its own system, for which you need to create an independent account, with a crazy waiting list procedure, a procedure I do understand because I went through it, twice.
Since before I got here I'd been interested in a history seminar titled "The Wars of Ireland" and once registration opened up, and i figured out how to register, I tried to get in. That itself was a production because everything was naturally in german and I'm just at level where I can order a coffee and say my name. But after some translation help from the internet i made it onto the waiting list and thats where things got really complicated. I could have sworn I was number 30 on the waiting list that day, then a week later i was 58, by the time I got to class I was 61. Keep in mind, the class has a 25 person cap. At this point I figured I'll just show up and see what happens. What happened was intense.
The professor started by taking attendance. Of the 80+ who registered only 33 came. The ones not there were immediately crossed of. I was getting closer. Then he informed us all that the policy in cases like this is to take 27 people so 6 had to leave. He was going to decide which 6 by going through the randomized list a computer had spit out before class and and picking the first 27. I knew I wouldn't be in the top so i started getting my things together then came a glimmer of hope. "Who is an Erasmus student, because I have to take you into my class?" I raised my hand. It was a bit of a lie but i'm closer to an Erasmus student than I am any other existing classification of student here and the only reason i'm not is a technicality. After that he put me on the list and I was in. I sighed with relief and sat back in my chair as the stressful process continued around me. Then came time for the final list to be read and my name was curiously absent. I asked what was going on, because a lot of the going ons had been in german, and the answer was essentially "woops sorry." He then suggested I try to get into another class of his and after going through the same process again I finally made it into a graduate level history class I'm probably going to drop anyway. Course registration here seems likes a giant pratical joke, that i'm not in on, in german, and i don't get it.
a parting gift... Charm School - Bishop Allen
(the song's instructions evoke the complexities of online registration) Technologic - Daft Punk
At Trinity you wake up for you 7:10am enrollment appointment, prepared list of classes in hand, and stumble to your computer, log on to TConline, register for you classes and then get back in bed before it even feels like you've left. In rare circumstances you don't get into a class you want/need to take, but in most of those cases a seat in the class is just an email to the professor away (unless it's Masur's Dylan class but thats a-whole-nother story). I've gotten a pretty good handle on Trinity's registration system, and it didn't take me long to do so.
I've registered and unregistered for about 8 classes in Vienna thus far and still have no idea what the system is like. Thats mostly because there is no unified system. System implies unified parts forming an intricate whole. Every department here has its own system. The philosophy department for instance uses the main university network but requires you to assign points, up to 1000, to classes you want to get into. The history department has its own system, for which you need to create an independent account, with a crazy waiting list procedure, a procedure I do understand because I went through it, twice.
Since before I got here I'd been interested in a history seminar titled "The Wars of Ireland" and once registration opened up, and i figured out how to register, I tried to get in. That itself was a production because everything was naturally in german and I'm just at level where I can order a coffee and say my name. But after some translation help from the internet i made it onto the waiting list and thats where things got really complicated. I could have sworn I was number 30 on the waiting list that day, then a week later i was 58, by the time I got to class I was 61. Keep in mind, the class has a 25 person cap. At this point I figured I'll just show up and see what happens. What happened was intense.
The professor started by taking attendance. Of the 80+ who registered only 33 came. The ones not there were immediately crossed of. I was getting closer. Then he informed us all that the policy in cases like this is to take 27 people so 6 had to leave. He was going to decide which 6 by going through the randomized list a computer had spit out before class and and picking the first 27. I knew I wouldn't be in the top so i started getting my things together then came a glimmer of hope. "Who is an Erasmus student, because I have to take you into my class?" I raised my hand. It was a bit of a lie but i'm closer to an Erasmus student than I am any other existing classification of student here and the only reason i'm not is a technicality. After that he put me on the list and I was in. I sighed with relief and sat back in my chair as the stressful process continued around me. Then came time for the final list to be read and my name was curiously absent. I asked what was going on, because a lot of the going ons had been in german, and the answer was essentially "woops sorry." He then suggested I try to get into another class of his and after going through the same process again I finally made it into a graduate level history class I'm probably going to drop anyway. Course registration here seems likes a giant pratical joke, that i'm not in on, in german, and i don't get it.
a parting gift... Charm School - Bishop Allen
Saturday, March 8, 2008
The Gift of Music
Matt told me how to put music on my blog so now I don't have to link to hype machine. In celebration I'm posting the songs I've made passing reference to thus far on "Tramps Like Us" as well as a Black Dice song, off the album Load Blown and a song from She & Him (Zooey Deschanel of Hitchhiker's Guide movie fame and M.Ward). The Black Dice because John and Matt took me to a show I was not totally prepared for but ended up enjoying; I think matt addresses the show in his blog better than i could or care to at the moment. And the She & Him because I just got the album and I like it. Hark! Music. (click to stream, right-click to download)
Born to Run - Bruce Springsteen
Our Life is Not a Movie or Maybe - Okkervil River
House of the Risin' Sun - Bob Dylan
Kokomo - Black Dice
Black Hole - She & Him
A real post is coming tomorrow so check in.
Born to Run - Bruce Springsteen
Our Life is Not a Movie or Maybe - Okkervil River
House of the Risin' Sun - Bob Dylan
Kokomo - Black Dice
Black Hole - She & Him
A real post is coming tomorrow so check in.
Monday, March 3, 2008
More Pictures (Those of Email #3)
The Main University and its inner courtyard featuring the sculptures of famous professors of yesteryear. Also, the Votivkirche across the street.
The Kunstforum (Vienna)
Graz (City Hall, Clock Tower and Kunsthaus and "True Garden" in the Kunsthaus)
Café Central
BOOOOOO!
The Kunstforum (Vienna)
Graz (City Hall, Clock Tower and Kunsthaus and "True Garden" in the Kunsthaus)
Café Central
BOOOOOO!
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
I Got This Fancy New Digital Camera for Something
The ALBERTINA
The OPERA (the back because there was too much traffic to get a good picture of the front)
The BELVEDERE
Upper Belvedere
Lower Belvedere
Some modern art in the not so modern Upper Belvedere
KARLSKIRCHE
MuMoK
(side)
The OPERA (the back because there was too much traffic to get a good picture of the front)
The BELVEDERE
Upper Belvedere
Lower Belvedere
Some modern art in the not so modern Upper Belvedere
KARLSKIRCHE
MuMoK(side)
Monday, February 25, 2008
Vienna: The City of Smelly Scarved Doppelgängers
Thats actually not true. I have yet to see/smell any one person who has been simultaneously smelly, scarved and looked like someone I know; this is more of three posts in one.
1: Vienna is Smelly.
I've been on an almost constant mission since I arrived in Vienna to find deodorant. When I packed the only one I had was the one I'd been using so I just brought about half a stick figuring I'd have plenty of time to pick some up here, right? WRONG (again). I've tried about 5 stores at this point and the best I've been able to find is travel sized women's deodorant of the solid variety (I'm more of a Old Spice clear-gel guy). The countdown has begun and if I don't find some soon I might have to start worrying.
2: Vienna is Scarved
There are a lot of people in Vienna who wear scarves, which is fine by me cause I kind of like 'em. I "only" brought 4 so I might have to in search of more. Hopefully I'll find a Scarf/Deodorant store.
3: Vienna has Doppelgangers.
Fact.
I feel like I've seen at least 20 people who elicited double-takes at the very least because they look like people I know from home. And I'm talking people from high school, trinity, family friends, kids from the camp I worked at. And I know that the more psychoanalytic among you might just simply assume that I'm seeing people I WISH I was seeing to put it simply, but I've seen people who I don't really know or even like that much so I'm not inclined to agree.
In conclusion, Vienna is overrun with Stinky Scarved Doppelgangers.
PS. I remembered today how much I liked Okkervil River's "Our Life is Not a Movie or Maybe" from Stage Names. (click to listen. Any of the numerous play buttons should work)
1: Vienna is Smelly.
I've been on an almost constant mission since I arrived in Vienna to find deodorant. When I packed the only one I had was the one I'd been using so I just brought about half a stick figuring I'd have plenty of time to pick some up here, right? WRONG (again). I've tried about 5 stores at this point and the best I've been able to find is travel sized women's deodorant of the solid variety (I'm more of a Old Spice clear-gel guy). The countdown has begun and if I don't find some soon I might have to start worrying.
2: Vienna is Scarved
There are a lot of people in Vienna who wear scarves, which is fine by me cause I kind of like 'em. I "only" brought 4 so I might have to in search of more. Hopefully I'll find a Scarf/Deodorant store.
3: Vienna has Doppelgangers.
Fact.
I feel like I've seen at least 20 people who elicited double-takes at the very least because they look like people I know from home. And I'm talking people from high school, trinity, family friends, kids from the camp I worked at. And I know that the more psychoanalytic among you might just simply assume that I'm seeing people I WISH I was seeing to put it simply, but I've seen people who I don't really know or even like that much so I'm not inclined to agree.
In conclusion, Vienna is overrun with Stinky Scarved Doppelgangers.
PS. I remembered today how much I liked Okkervil River's "Our Life is Not a Movie or Maybe" from Stage Names. (click to listen. Any of the numerous play buttons should work)
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Communal Chagrin
At 12:30 all the subways in Vienna turn back into pumpkins. I suppose if Cinderella had that extra half-hour maybe she wouldn't have lost her slipper but I generally like to stay out longer than fairy tale princesses so even that extra half-hour isn't enough. The fact that the u-bahn stops running so early usually just means we go out a little earlier than usual and try to make it back a little earlier. The alternative is the night bus, which has recently become less annoying for me, but generally when one is going to have to take the night bus its a conscious decision to stay out longer. That means that I've only attempted one form of transportation on any given return trip...until last night.
John Matt Jack and I had set out last night to find a place called B72. It was billed by many as sort of an "indie-club/lounge" whatever the hell that means. It actually turned out to be pretty cool and I'll most likely end up back there before the end of my stay here, but the place itself is sort of irrelevant for this particular cultural musing.
None of us seemed like we were looking to "go out hard" so the whole night we were thinking about taking the ubahn back. 12:15 hit and we made for the door only to be slowed by a girl looking for a cigarette and then by the guy working the door who wouldn't let john out with a drink. Little did we know those fateful delays would actually make a difference. Glad to have made the U-6 train, we started towards out transfer at Westbahnhof to the U-3. But when we got to Westbahnhof my happiness that came from making the train turned into utter confusion as people starting running off the trains and down the steps. Next thing I know Jack has broken into a run, hindered slightly by the fact that he was wearing sandals, and thats when it occurred to me: people were running for the transfer hoping to make the last train, just making it into the u-bahn system wasn't enough. I took off after Jack down the steps while Matt and John started booking it down the escalator. It was this odd stampede towards the U-3 platform and just as I approached the last 10 steps I couldn't help but laugh at what I knew was going to happen. Whether or not the train was coming or not all of us running down those steps would experience some simultaneous communal emotion. In this case, it was communal chagrin as signs flashed informing us all we missed the train. Some woman to my right doubled over, two guys behind me threw up their hands, I shook my fists. I can only imagine that last night was not out of the ordinary and I feel like I've experienced a necessary cultural moment.
We took the night bus home, but not before we all visited a kabab/hotdog/falafel/pizza stand and John and I successfully cheated the dreaded Opera Toilet out of the money it never deserved.
Also very notable was that days earlier trip to the famed Gasometer's where we "Hung with the 'Hoff." A story I will defer to Matt's blog, complete with a phenomenal picture taken by yours truly. Unfortunately, there were no Pontiac Trans Ams.
John Matt Jack and I had set out last night to find a place called B72. It was billed by many as sort of an "indie-club/lounge" whatever the hell that means. It actually turned out to be pretty cool and I'll most likely end up back there before the end of my stay here, but the place itself is sort of irrelevant for this particular cultural musing.
None of us seemed like we were looking to "go out hard" so the whole night we were thinking about taking the ubahn back. 12:15 hit and we made for the door only to be slowed by a girl looking for a cigarette and then by the guy working the door who wouldn't let john out with a drink. Little did we know those fateful delays would actually make a difference. Glad to have made the U-6 train, we started towards out transfer at Westbahnhof to the U-3. But when we got to Westbahnhof my happiness that came from making the train turned into utter confusion as people starting running off the trains and down the steps. Next thing I know Jack has broken into a run, hindered slightly by the fact that he was wearing sandals, and thats when it occurred to me: people were running for the transfer hoping to make the last train, just making it into the u-bahn system wasn't enough. I took off after Jack down the steps while Matt and John started booking it down the escalator. It was this odd stampede towards the U-3 platform and just as I approached the last 10 steps I couldn't help but laugh at what I knew was going to happen. Whether or not the train was coming or not all of us running down those steps would experience some simultaneous communal emotion. In this case, it was communal chagrin as signs flashed informing us all we missed the train. Some woman to my right doubled over, two guys behind me threw up their hands, I shook my fists. I can only imagine that last night was not out of the ordinary and I feel like I've experienced a necessary cultural moment.
We took the night bus home, but not before we all visited a kabab/hotdog/falafel/pizza stand and John and I successfully cheated the dreaded Opera Toilet out of the money it never deserved.
Also very notable was that days earlier trip to the famed Gasometer's where we "Hung with the 'Hoff." A story I will defer to Matt's blog, complete with a phenomenal picture taken by yours truly. Unfortunately, there were no Pontiac Trans Ams.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Kosovo, Superdelegates and Shopkeeps
I have pretty much nothing new to post on from the past few days because I haven't spent much time out of bed since late friday night. I'll spare everyone the less than pleasant details but my 103 fever has dropped back down to a cool 98 and change. Now I'm just left with a cough. I spent most of my time in bed watching CNN seeing as its pretty much the only english language station here that doesn't play crappy music videos. Some people (see matt's blog) are quite fond of GoTV and MTV but I am not one of those people. In watching the repetitive CNN loop I did learn quite a bit about superdelegates, including one who was only 19 or something, as well as the countdown to Kosovo's declaration of independence (Congratulations Kosovo, my sympathies Serbia). I also got to watch a half-hour special on international sailing races. All that being said, someone recommended I post about a story that happened early last week.
I managed to blow the fuses in my room charging my beard (i use the term loosely) trimmer with out the proper adapters. It was an oversight that has cost me Conair beard trimmer its life. So for fear I'd turn into one of these guys, or worse, this guy, I went on a quest for a replacement. I walked into my local electronic store was quickly confronted (I choose that word and not greeting intentionally) by a rather old Viennese shopkeeper who started speaking very gruff German. I responded with my most often used German phrase: "Ich spreche kein Deutch" (i don't speak german). She looked at me quietly for a second or two then said "OK" before she started speaking to me in German again. She, like most shop keepers here, seem to have little patients for browsing and thinking. Efficiency is almost always a primary concern. Sometimes in the inner districts people will realize you're a foreigner and chuckle while they humor your silly American questions but out in Simmering, people don't mess around. Anyway, I bought the cheapest trimmer and got what i paid for. I charged it for a few hours then it died about 45 seconds into use.
I have to stop procrastinating and get back to studying for my German Midterm, and yes I have a midterm a week into class. The University schedule is wierd, but more on that once i figure out how to register for classes.
I managed to blow the fuses in my room charging my beard (i use the term loosely) trimmer with out the proper adapters. It was an oversight that has cost me Conair beard trimmer its life. So for fear I'd turn into one of these guys, or worse, this guy, I went on a quest for a replacement. I walked into my local electronic store was quickly confronted (I choose that word and not greeting intentionally) by a rather old Viennese shopkeeper who started speaking very gruff German. I responded with my most often used German phrase: "Ich spreche kein Deutch" (i don't speak german). She looked at me quietly for a second or two then said "OK" before she started speaking to me in German again. She, like most shop keepers here, seem to have little patients for browsing and thinking. Efficiency is almost always a primary concern. Sometimes in the inner districts people will realize you're a foreigner and chuckle while they humor your silly American questions but out in Simmering, people don't mess around. Anyway, I bought the cheapest trimmer and got what i paid for. I charged it for a few hours then it died about 45 seconds into use.
I have to stop procrastinating and get back to studying for my German Midterm, and yes I have a midterm a week into class. The University schedule is wierd, but more on that once i figure out how to register for classes.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Let's Kick It
This is a post I meant to do a week ago.
I found this place called Stil online before I left for Vienna. I sort of stumbled upon it while I was looking for an old GQ article, but thats besides the point. The point is I went there, and it was resplendent; I just learned a new word! Heres the story from the beginning.
In the beginning God created the Heaven and the Earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the water. (Gen 1:1-2) Brief aside, if the earth was void and with out form, how was there water, seeing as to hold oceans the earth must have had some form?
ANYWAY, at some point after that Matt had to get a power converter so he could charge his computer. John and I decided to come alone and we ended up at a monstrosity of electrical store/mall call Saturn (Austrians say it funny). In Saturn i realized we were mere blocks away from Stil: The Viennese center for kicks and street culture! Matt and John begrudgingly agreed to come complaining and speculating about the stores lameness the whole way there. But once we walked in that changed. It was sweet. I really like the minimalist aesthetic that most of these types of stores have. Simple and clean lines, mostly white. It serves well to highlight the shoes I guess but it also makes the place feel very open, clean and inviting. I found these shoes which I want. And I will probably buy them soon.
I refer to them as gateway kicks. Sneakers that serve as an entrance into the realm of actually caring about my sneakers as an element of style and may eventually lead to more adventurous shoes like these.
but probably not. we'll just have to see.
stay tuned for more info about my shoes and i guess vienna too.
same bat-time, same bat-channel. (seriously, click the link)
I found this place called Stil online before I left for Vienna. I sort of stumbled upon it while I was looking for an old GQ article, but thats besides the point. The point is I went there, and it was resplendent; I just learned a new word! Heres the story from the beginning.
In the beginning God created the Heaven and the Earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the water. (Gen 1:1-2) Brief aside, if the earth was void and with out form, how was there water, seeing as to hold oceans the earth must have had some form?
ANYWAY, at some point after that Matt had to get a power converter so he could charge his computer. John and I decided to come alone and we ended up at a monstrosity of electrical store/mall call Saturn (Austrians say it funny). In Saturn i realized we were mere blocks away from Stil: The Viennese center for kicks and street culture! Matt and John begrudgingly agreed to come complaining and speculating about the stores lameness the whole way there. But once we walked in that changed. It was sweet. I really like the minimalist aesthetic that most of these types of stores have. Simple and clean lines, mostly white. It serves well to highlight the shoes I guess but it also makes the place feel very open, clean and inviting. I found these shoes which I want. And I will probably buy them soon.
I refer to them as gateway kicks. Sneakers that serve as an entrance into the realm of actually caring about my sneakers as an element of style and may eventually lead to more adventurous shoes like these.
but probably not. we'll just have to see.stay tuned for more info about my shoes and i guess vienna too.
same bat-time, same bat-channel. (seriously, click the link)
There is a house in New Orleans, They call the Risin' Sun. Its been the ruin of many a poor girl, and oh god I'm one.
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This post doesn't have much of a story behind it. Its all about the two amazing pictures a guy behind me on the plane took on the way from JFK to Vienna. Its the sun rising over the foot hills of the alps with the city lights of an unknown city in the foreground. I think it was while we were flying over Germany but I can't be sure. I asked the guy to send me the pictures a while ago, then when he did I asked for permission to use them on my blog. He never got back to me and I got impatient. But credit where credit is due: His name was Gregor and was very nice guy. If for some reason he cares I'll take down the pictures.
Also, the title was from Dylan's "House of the Rising Sun" which I tried to load onto the blog but can't figure quite figure out.
as they would say here, Tschüss (see ya)
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
First there were Snakes on a Plane, now there are Dogs on a Train
I meant to send an big update email out today but instead i skipped out on my last two pages of German homework and went out for a few hours. We (myself and some other trinity folks) were apparently supposed to meet up with some other international students but our in with the other group never showed. Either way, this will have to suffice until maybe tomorrow afternoon or thursday...
So i noticed almost immediately upon my arrival that on all forms of Viennese public transport there are signs that tell people to muzzle their dogs. At least, thats what I've gleaned from my ill-nasty Pictionary skillz (yeah skillz with a "z"). Anyway, it only occurred to me today that it was not only strange that dogs needed to be so often muzzled but also that they were allowed on public transportation in the first place.
Exhibit A: (Sorry for the poor quality but its hard to take pictures on a moving train especially when you're trying not to seem like a creep.)
This was one of two tiny little dogs, that picked fights will at least 3 much larger dogs on my way from Volkstheater to Simmering on the U-3 line.
As someone who has spent a pretty significant amount of time bumming around New York's subway system I'm still surprised it took my this long to realize that dogs and puppies abound on Vienna's underground but there you have it...proof.
Also, I recently decided I want a dog at some point after I graduate and am open to suggestions as to what kind; though there already exist dogs my friend's have that I want to steal, so your arguments will have to be convincing. The above dog had nothing to do with my decision.
more to come. hopefully more pictures too; I'm waiting on some great photos from a guy on the plane over here with me.
So i noticed almost immediately upon my arrival that on all forms of Viennese public transport there are signs that tell people to muzzle their dogs. At least, thats what I've gleaned from my ill-nasty Pictionary skillz (yeah skillz with a "z"). Anyway, it only occurred to me today that it was not only strange that dogs needed to be so often muzzled but also that they were allowed on public transportation in the first place.
Exhibit A: (Sorry for the poor quality but its hard to take pictures on a moving train especially when you're trying not to seem like a creep.)This was one of two tiny little dogs, that picked fights will at least 3 much larger dogs on my way from Volkstheater to Simmering on the U-3 line.
As someone who has spent a pretty significant amount of time bumming around New York's subway system I'm still surprised it took my this long to realize that dogs and puppies abound on Vienna's underground but there you have it...proof.
Also, I recently decided I want a dog at some point after I graduate and am open to suggestions as to what kind; though there already exist dogs my friend's have that I want to steal, so your arguments will have to be convincing. The above dog had nothing to do with my decision.
more to come. hopefully more pictures too; I'm waiting on some great photos from a guy on the plane over here with me.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Wien is not New York
The above is an understatement.
The story of a not so a-typical yesterday evening as a means through which to describe the little things I'm still getting used to.
John, Matt Andrew and I took the u-bahn (subway) over to Schottentor and the University area because we were looking for a bar Andrew's guidebook had listed as a top 10 "student hangout". It was this big Irish place called Charlie P's (which I kept accidentally calling Peter B's, I must I miss the library at Trinity more than I thought) on Wahringer Straße that had a great main bar with a simple carved wood back. It was disorienting to hear so many strangers speaking English again. It was nice to be able to order in english and make small talk with the bartenders but it also made it easier to understand people when they were being idiots. This one American guy kept yelling about how much he hated Austria and Germany and actually asked Matt and I "why we were fucking here?" We told him we were studying at the university this semester and I felt an odd pride in being able to tell him I was more than a tourist and really belonged in this city and this "student hang out" bar.
The English was the first thing I noticed but coming in a close second was all the smoke. I guess I've gotten more used to the New York indoor smoking bans than I had thought. You could see some of the beams of the stronger lights in the smoke. Generally it doesn't really bother me that much when people around me smoke. Sometimes at school I'll even go outside while other smoke to keep them company and for a temporary change of scenery, but its a little different when about 100 people are smoking inside. Its not really that big of a deal and I guess its just another thing I'll have to adjust to, perhaps with an investment in some fabreeze.
The bar was still a great time, lots of laughs, stupid conversations along side some more intelligent ones. This was especially true when, after about an hour of standing in a corner, we finally got a table. Besides a place to sit and a physical arrangement more apt for conversation, it also meant we got to order drinks from a waitress instead of fighting through crowds to get to the bar. The first time we ordered a round from the table I broke a 10 euro bill. My plan was to keep the paper money I got back and give her the coins as tip. I mean, whats a few quarters right? WRONG. 1 and 2 euros are coins here to and I gave her a tip just under 2 euros for my 3 euro beer, which is a 60+ percent tip. As someone who generally hates carrying change the fact that mere coins are actually worth much more than an American dollar bill has and will continue to cause problems, though my slight miscalculation will serve as a reminder hopefully.
The night ended as i foresee many ending. McDonald's waffle fries and a the night bus home.
(i'm starting to dig this whole blog thing so updates might come more frequently and have more depth and breadth than I thought they would, so check back if you like what you're seeing.)
The story of a not so a-typical yesterday evening as a means through which to describe the little things I'm still getting used to.
John, Matt Andrew and I took the u-bahn (subway) over to Schottentor and the University area because we were looking for a bar Andrew's guidebook had listed as a top 10 "student hangout". It was this big Irish place called Charlie P's (which I kept accidentally calling Peter B's, I must I miss the library at Trinity more than I thought) on Wahringer Straße that had a great main bar with a simple carved wood back. It was disorienting to hear so many strangers speaking English again. It was nice to be able to order in english and make small talk with the bartenders but it also made it easier to understand people when they were being idiots. This one American guy kept yelling about how much he hated Austria and Germany and actually asked Matt and I "why we were fucking here?" We told him we were studying at the university this semester and I felt an odd pride in being able to tell him I was more than a tourist and really belonged in this city and this "student hang out" bar.
The English was the first thing I noticed but coming in a close second was all the smoke. I guess I've gotten more used to the New York indoor smoking bans than I had thought. You could see some of the beams of the stronger lights in the smoke. Generally it doesn't really bother me that much when people around me smoke. Sometimes at school I'll even go outside while other smoke to keep them company and for a temporary change of scenery, but its a little different when about 100 people are smoking inside. Its not really that big of a deal and I guess its just another thing I'll have to adjust to, perhaps with an investment in some fabreeze.
The bar was still a great time, lots of laughs, stupid conversations along side some more intelligent ones. This was especially true when, after about an hour of standing in a corner, we finally got a table. Besides a place to sit and a physical arrangement more apt for conversation, it also meant we got to order drinks from a waitress instead of fighting through crowds to get to the bar. The first time we ordered a round from the table I broke a 10 euro bill. My plan was to keep the paper money I got back and give her the coins as tip. I mean, whats a few quarters right? WRONG. 1 and 2 euros are coins here to and I gave her a tip just under 2 euros for my 3 euro beer, which is a 60+ percent tip. As someone who generally hates carrying change the fact that mere coins are actually worth much more than an American dollar bill has and will continue to cause problems, though my slight miscalculation will serve as a reminder hopefully.
The night ended as i foresee many ending. McDonald's waffle fries and a the night bus home.
(i'm starting to dig this whole blog thing so updates might come more frequently and have more depth and breadth than I thought they would, so check back if you like what you're seeing.)
Friday, February 8, 2008
We Might Be Giants
There seems to be a trend of miniaturization that has swept over Vienna of late. Either that, or I, as well as the people and things around me have all grown to such gigantic proportions so as to makes others appear diminutive in stature.
After a great afternoon at the Albertina (imagine if the MoMA was housed in a 17th century palace) on Trinity's dime, Matt and I explored the surrounding area. The Albertina is right in the middle of the city so it was an interesting place to see when we got away from the incredible touristy area; an area the we started calling "Vegas" around the time we saw the 4th or 5th Mozart memorabilia store. But it was in Vegas that we saw a miniature horse being held by a panhandler you could pay to pet his tiny tiny pet, at least thats what i'm assuming the german sign said. This guy actually wasn't the first person we saw with that gimmick either. Miniature #1
On the subway back from the innerstadt (the central district) we saw the second miniature. He was probably about 10 years old and normal size for his age but would better be described as a miniature adult than a kid. He stepped on a few steps in front of the woman I gathered to be his mother wearing what I've already seen dozens of 20 somethings wearing in the city. Black jeans, simple jacket, Palestinian solidarity scarf wrapped appropriately and black and red sneakers. He even carried himself like a little adult. But the thing that brought it all home was the cell phone call. When he answered his phone (side note: there is great cell reception in the subway tunnels) I couldn't tell if was talking about his new playstation game with his playdate or brokering a merger. Miniature #2
The rest of the day elicited stories too but I'll save those for later.
After a great afternoon at the Albertina (imagine if the MoMA was housed in a 17th century palace) on Trinity's dime, Matt and I explored the surrounding area. The Albertina is right in the middle of the city so it was an interesting place to see when we got away from the incredible touristy area; an area the we started calling "Vegas" around the time we saw the 4th or 5th Mozart memorabilia store. But it was in Vegas that we saw a miniature horse being held by a panhandler you could pay to pet his tiny tiny pet, at least thats what i'm assuming the german sign said. This guy actually wasn't the first person we saw with that gimmick either. Miniature #1
On the subway back from the innerstadt (the central district) we saw the second miniature. He was probably about 10 years old and normal size for his age but would better be described as a miniature adult than a kid. He stepped on a few steps in front of the woman I gathered to be his mother wearing what I've already seen dozens of 20 somethings wearing in the city. Black jeans, simple jacket, Palestinian solidarity scarf wrapped appropriately and black and red sneakers. He even carried himself like a little adult. But the thing that brought it all home was the cell phone call. When he answered his phone (side note: there is great cell reception in the subway tunnels) I couldn't tell if was talking about his new playstation game with his playdate or brokering a merger. Miniature #2
The rest of the day elicited stories too but I'll save those for later.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Damn you Parodontax!!!
Today I had a dangerous encounter with my toothpaste. By my toothpaste i mean the cruel joke the Parodontax company has played on the rest of the world.
Pretty much as soon as I drop my stuff of in my room today I go across the street to the grocery type store and buy me some german toothpaste, mostly because i can;t really tell whats what seeing as I speak almost zero german, but i'm pretty confident it is in fact, toothpaste. But when I go to brush my teeth that confidence goes out the window.
I squeeze the tube and out comes this gross flesh colored pasted that smells horrible. Immediately i jump to the worst possible conclusion. I have put some nasty medicated ointment on my toothbrush. I feverishly try to read the tube to figure out if its actually for my mouth, but again, i don't speak german. But i do see a website and its google translator to the rescue! I read some syntactically nightmarish discription of the product and caught something about gums and teeth and figured i was good to go. WRONG!
What i didn't catch was that the toothpaste tasted horrible. I start brushing my teeth and for some reason the toothpaste makes me start drooling uncontrollably over the sink (attractive, i know) and I spit out the remaining toothpaste as soon as I can overcome the taste enough to think straight.
Fortunately, I packed some Colgate for tomorrow.
Pretty much as soon as I drop my stuff of in my room today I go across the street to the grocery type store and buy me some german toothpaste, mostly because i can;t really tell whats what seeing as I speak almost zero german, but i'm pretty confident it is in fact, toothpaste. But when I go to brush my teeth that confidence goes out the window.
I squeeze the tube and out comes this gross flesh colored pasted that smells horrible. Immediately i jump to the worst possible conclusion. I have put some nasty medicated ointment on my toothbrush. I feverishly try to read the tube to figure out if its actually for my mouth, but again, i don't speak german. But i do see a website and its google translator to the rescue! I read some syntactically nightmarish discription of the product and caught something about gums and teeth and figured i was good to go. WRONG!
What i didn't catch was that the toothpaste tasted horrible. I start brushing my teeth and for some reason the toothpaste makes me start drooling uncontrollably over the sink (attractive, i know) and I spit out the remaining toothpaste as soon as I can overcome the taste enough to think straight.
Fortunately, I packed some Colgate for tomorrow.
Its probably good for riding at night.
Over the weekend I figured out the teleological purpose of this blog. It came to me in a vision. A bright orange two wheeled vision. I'll explain.
Last sunday, like any good blue blooded american would do during the super bowl, I was at a runway show in Bryant Park. Its fashion week so it was big deal, for my parents especially, and i don;t really care that much about football. It was a really cool show, for a company called Tuleh. It was certainly an experience. the clothes were interesting but not absurd, and it was fascinating to see the elements of the show came together as cleanly as they did. I also thought the image of about 30 photographers in bleacher style seating at the end of the runway was captivating and pseudo-philosophically interesting in terms of almost identical yet still very different perspectives as well as the always looming reproduction essay, but anyway. the point...
as we were leaving I saw a bike locked to a lamp post, but this was no ordinary bike. It was spray painted entirely bright orange: wheels, handlebars, brakes, gears, seat everything.
so what does this have to do with my new blog? Well in light of the orange bike i've decided that this will be a way to share random bits of interesting stories and experiences. It won't really function as a way to keep in touch (and would fail if i tried to make it so); emails will fulfill that purpose. but check back to hear about stupid randomness, like the forthcoming post about my toothpaste.
Last sunday, like any good blue blooded american would do during the super bowl, I was at a runway show in Bryant Park. Its fashion week so it was big deal, for my parents especially, and i don;t really care that much about football. It was a really cool show, for a company called Tuleh. It was certainly an experience. the clothes were interesting but not absurd, and it was fascinating to see the elements of the show came together as cleanly as they did. I also thought the image of about 30 photographers in bleacher style seating at the end of the runway was captivating and pseudo-philosophically interesting in terms of almost identical yet still very different perspectives as well as the always looming reproduction essay, but anyway. the point...
as we were leaving I saw a bike locked to a lamp post, but this was no ordinary bike. It was spray painted entirely bright orange: wheels, handlebars, brakes, gears, seat everything.
so what does this have to do with my new blog? Well in light of the orange bike i've decided that this will be a way to share random bits of interesting stories and experiences. It won't really function as a way to keep in touch (and would fail if i tried to make it so); emails will fulfill that purpose. but check back to hear about stupid randomness, like the forthcoming post about my toothpaste.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Don't Let the Blog Title Mislead You
I'm still a little ambivalent about creating a blog and am already considering abandoning it for emails as a way of updating people about my travels, but we'll see. Another note on the formation of this blog: I totally stole the idea from Matt...so thanks and sorry matt.
The title came from Springsteen's Born to Run ("Tramps like us, baby we were born to run") and I thought of using it during a conversation with my brother about the American Myth of self-creation and the ability to pick up and move, forget the past what you did and who you were and start anew. From there we starting talking about Born to Run (album and song) and the ideas in it of escape and the potentials of the road. After all, "these two lanes will take us anywhere."
I leave for Vienna on monday. Wish me luck, I'll need it.
The title came from Springsteen's Born to Run ("Tramps like us, baby we were born to run") and I thought of using it during a conversation with my brother about the American Myth of self-creation and the ability to pick up and move, forget the past what you did and who you were and start anew. From there we starting talking about Born to Run (album and song) and the ideas in it of escape and the potentials of the road. After all, "these two lanes will take us anywhere."
I leave for Vienna on monday. Wish me luck, I'll need it.
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