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)

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)

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.

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.

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)

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.

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)

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.

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.)

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.

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.

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.

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.