Roma

An account of my trip to Rome will be forthcoming, but the Understanding Austria midterm is tomorrow, I have a German paper due Monday, and will be going to Prague this weekend to visit the World's Biggest Nightclub at Brittany's request. Hopefully I will not forget everything by then.

E-I-E-I-O

I pride myself on not getting heckled here in Austria very much. For some reason, Bethany often gets laughed at by little Austrian kids on the bus. I assume it's because she talks loudly in English and has shiny blond hair and a pink Nike backpack. She is always sad about appearing like a tourist, but has made peace with it and mostly ignores the kids.

However, yesterday I got heckled. And it was not so much for speaking English loudly (although the boys were laughing at that), it was for being extremely fascinated by a baby cow.

I will be the first to admit it, I am a city slicker. Born and raised. The country and its way of life and all its animals and it muddiness completely escapes me. There are some people on this trip that live in the country, and even live on farms. Marigrace's brother keeps cows. But on our trip to the Winklhof Agricultural School, I was pretty out of my element.

First was a hike up to the horse stables. The school's equestrian program has large horses meant for farming and small ones (practically ponies) for pulling carriages. Mike got to sit on a horse, and elected to ride bareback. He wasn't expecting to have to trot around on the horse holding on to it's mane for dear life. It was a great photo-op, and Phoebe made fun of me for not brining my camera. I have a talent for missing out on photographing interesting events. That's how I knew I would make a horrible photojournalist without having to try it. I also learned an important lesson--Don't ever stand behind a horse. I will leave it at that.

After watching students in cute and sporty riding trousers and boots trot around the indoor training facility for a while, we went back to the main part of the campus. Boys were learning how to fix tractors and weld machine parts. It made me feel like a failure, like I hadn't done a productive thing in my life.

Then came the livestock. First pigs. Surprisingly cute. Very stinky. I was not too keen to see animals where meat comes from, since practically every meal here involves some form of pork. But it wasn't too traumatizing. Next we saw the cows. I literally can't think of a worse smelling thing in the universe. My clothes, my hair my skin was soaked in the terrible almost sweet and pungent cow smell. I could hardly breathe. Much worse than the pigs. When I got home at night, I told my host mother that we went to a farm and that I now smelled like a cow. She took one whiff of my hair and told me it would be fine after I took a shower.

Next was the slaughter house which I stood timidly outside of, too wary to enter, lest my delicate stomach be upset. All the agricultural students (besides those in equestrian studies) must learn to slaughter. Luckily for me, it was all clean and there were no dead animals in there except for in sausage form, and it actually smelled pretty delicious, especially after the cows.

Right before going to visit an English class to practice some intercultural conversation, we decided it would be a good idea to get a little toasted, so we toured the distillery, and were all given a sample shot of schnapps, the specialty of the region and the school. Everyone felt nice and warm. We went to the English class and met lots of teenagers. They were very funny, and had a huge crush on Sebastian who apparently resembled some pop star they loved. The girls I was talking to were very interesting in the drinking and smoking age in America. They were only one year away from being able to drink, just like me, except they were 15. And they thought it was hilarious that the smoking age was 18, they said many students at the school start smoking when they are 12.

Sebastian asked them what their favorite desert was that we HAD to try here in Austria. They said Sachar torte. We must be ahead of the game, since I already have eaten some.

Okjekte und Fotografien

It is probably bad form to get into a shouting match inside a quiet, contemplative modern art museum. Good thing I was able to contain myself.

I am kidding, but we did have a rather cathartic and energetic time at the Museum der Moderne on top of the Monchsberg yesterday. Will and I, the only students who will be working together in the Artist In Residence class next term, found we had some ideological differences. When I asked Will what he thought about the first exhibit with works of art dealing with bodies as "a plane for the projection of social inscriptions," he said "I don't like talking about art."

I thought this was crazy. I have no greater joy in life than talking about art! What he meant was that he feels that art is about relaying the artist's emotion, about expressing things that can't be put into words and about eliciting an emotional response, and that he didn't like how in Art History classes, critics and historians often tell you what the "correct" interpretation of a work is. I explained that discussion was so important for me because it gives me access to other people's emotional responses and makes me think about the work in a way I couldn't appreciate on my own. I also am a staunch believer that for a piece of art to be successful, it either has to have an aesthetic experience (i.e. be pretty) and emotional experience (make you feel something strongly) or be understood intellectually (make you think about a concept). The problem so often with modern art is that the actual visuals of the piece don't appeal to me at all, so I have to talk about it, read about it and learn about it to engage with it on a conceptual or emotional level in order to have any respect for it at all. If I find that the art doesn't have a strong visual, emotional OR intelectual basis, then that crap is not art, and it doesn't deserve my time or attention, let alone deserve to be hung in a museum where thousands of people get to see it and the artist gets rich. Bad art makes me so mad. And yes, I think there is such a thing as bad art.

Will thinks that everything in the world is art, from paintings to urinals, which I HIGHLY disagree with, but we will be able to unpack that later as we work together. I guess my ideas about good and bad art are mostly informed by my experience as a photographer. I see the world as a collection of things, sprawled out before me, and the art is picking those things out and capturing them in a specific way that shows personal vision. Will is a sculptor, which means that objects and space for him are all parts of experience. I don't always like interactive art or instillations, since they don't seem complete or composed for me. But Will is completely opposite, and got mad at some of the photographs, wishing that he was able to experience the scenes spatially for himself, instead of being only given one point of view, through the camera.

The art in the MdM was kind of boring. There was a drawing exhibit that was exciting for me only because there were some drawings by Egon Schiele Gustav Klimt, and Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, none of which were remarkable, but I get starstruck in the presence of works by famous artists. Then there was a rather strange photography exhibit that alienated me before I even saw it by writing in the description "Jürgen Klauke is not a photographer, but an artist, who uses photography as an instrument for questioning himself and the world." WHAT DO YOU THINK PHOTOGRAPHY IS? Anyway, the images were kind of interesting, except that they were nearly all black with shiny glass on them so they basically turned into giant mirrors, and we were too preoccupied with checking ourselves out to look at them seriously.

The BEST art was at the annex of the museum, the MdM Rupertinum, which we got into for only €2 because we had paid admission to the other museum. These were also photography exhibits. It seems to me that photography is really a prominent and serious art form here, since there were so many photography exhibits and they were integrated into other shows unlike in America where they are separated and relegated to the basement like at the Art Institute.

There was an artist Ilse Haider, who made these AMAZING sculptures with the photographs where she printed on wood and then sliced them to create wooden slats that made the picture almost unrecognizable when you moved but clear when you stepped far away. They are hard to describe. She also had pictures printed on Q-Tips. Some images were rather disturbing and unsettling, and I saw more penises than I would care to in one day, but it was still more interesting and thought provoking than at the other museum.

Silver White Winters that Melt into Springs

The other day, while standing waiting for the bus, I was surprised to look down the road and see, looming in the distance, the Untersberg. For several weeks all I had been able to see was a foggy field of nothing, and I assumed that I was looking at an empty space. But it turns out it was just sheets of snow and clouds that were obscuring the mountain. And that's how I know der Föhn had finally arrived.

Der Föhn (which means "the hairdryer") is a special weather phenomenon here in Salzburg where wind patters get trapped over the mountains and result in warm gusts of air sweeping through the valleys. One day it is snowing and freezing and ice is everywhere, the next day it is 50 degrees and sunny. I was so excited for this I can't begin to describe it. My hatred of cold and ice coupled with my tendency to succumb to Seasonal Affective Disorder makes winter hard to survive, even though snow here in Austria is much more gorgeous and white than back at home.

However der Föhn is more complicated than a mere heat wave. It is often blamed for erratic behaviors, headaches, and has been cited as the reason for many suicides. My mother recalled hearing about it durring her time here at Salzburg College. She said "They used it to explain all kinds of random occurrences and behaviors. Your mom is moody? Your dog is acting strange? Blame it on der Föhn. Feeling happy? Feeling sad? Feeling tired? Must be der Föhn!" For me, I very happy to see the sun again, and to be able to walk around looking at the mountains.

We finally watched the Sound of Music as a group. I have seen that movie so many times, it was one of my favorites as a kid. And I have been to Salzburg before, and so I remember being litte and so excited to get to see the gazebo, the gate by the river (at the Schloss Leopoldskron, former site of Salzburg College) and the Mirabell gardens. But now that I am living here, it is even more significant. I squealed quite loudly when the Maria and the children rode in a buggy by my favorite spot here in Salzburg, Herbert von Karajan Platz, where people once brought their horses to drink water. And it was an entirely different experience to be able to see the Untersberg on screen while being able to see it peeking through the window directly behind the TV.

But mostly, the Sound of Music made me feel very patriotic. Captain von Trapp's love for Austria is infectious. And the city of Salzburg looks so quaint and beautiful. Salzburg was its own country until 1810, and so the history of the province is much different than the rest of Austria. Seeing Austrians so proud of their country as well as the city and all its unique history really made me proud to live here.

Nächste halt, Mörkweg

I decided to walk into town today, since it is so warm, and it is a lazy sunday, and since my host family served me a huge lunch of potatoes and meat in a delicious sauce with vegetables soaked in butter and a honey almond pastry for desert and if I didn't start walking off some of those calories I would have most likely fallen asleep.

I bought a Monatskarte, or monthly bus pass for the first month here in Salzburg. It has been amazing, since I can ride any bus unlimited for the whole month. Bus tickets here are sold in the Tabbak Traffik tobacco stores and stands. I was pretty appalled that school children are basically forced to patronize tabacco stores if they want to ride the bus for less that €2.10 per ride. The bus ticket system is very strange. You buy the ticket ahead of time (unless you want to pay full price in cash) and then you validate it with a stamp when you get on the bus. The card is then valid from the time you stamp it until that same time whenever it is set to expire (a day, week, month or year). When you get on the bus, you don't have to scan or show your ticket to anybody, you just ride. Undercover ticket agents do random searches of people to make sure nobody is stealing. The fine for riding without a ticket is steep--Somewhere around €60. But I have been riding the bus for almost a month and I have never been stopped.

The busses are almost always on time. There are posted schedules with the time table in front of each stop and also in a book that you can buy. It is a little chart and on one side is the hour, and then it lists the minuets that the bus will come at. For example:

14: 05 15 25 35 46 58

The only problem is that I have to remember to look at the 24 hour time--Once I looked at the schedule for 9:00 instead of 21:00 and ended up waiting for an extra half hour. The same thing happens if you look at the Mon-Fri schedule instead of Sat or Sun. The Sunday bus only comes twice an hour. I end up waiting like and idiot in front of the bus stop a lot. I somehow am not good at timing things...and end up coming at 6:15 instead of 6:12 and then having to wait another 15 minutes. It doesn't help that the schedule book that my Guest family has is the 2010 and not 2011. It is slightly off.

The Golden Arches

Surprisingly, McDonalds here is a pleasant hang out place. I love going to McDonalds abroad and noting differences. Here in Austria, the food is mostly similar but the atmosphere is totally different. For example, McCafé is a different part of the restaurant, where you can order actually good coffee and tons of pastries including doughnuts. There is a seating area for the café and then an upstairs area for the rest of the restaurant. The most notable feature of McDonalds is free WiFi which means that us Salzburg College students without Internet at home frequent it on the weekends. Yesterday afternoon, Beth and I ran into Megan and Brittany using their computers in McDonalds.

The food at Austrian McDonalds (while perhaps not healthier) is of better quality than in the United States, and all of the food is locally grown and produced. They had an ad with a potato in a felt Alpine hat with feathers proclaiming "I AM AUSTRIAN!" The best dish that they have here that is not available in the US is Gitter Pommes, or seasoned waffle fries which they serve with sour cream sauce. They would be a huge hit in America, I am sure, and while Beth and I were in line to order them, about 4 other groups of high school students did as well.

The weirdest thing is the fees that McDonalds charges that Americans would never, ever in a million years tollerate. Ketchup costs €0.20. That's right. KETCHUP. However you can substitute the Sour Cream sauce for Ketchup if you order Gitter Pommes. To use the bathroom, you have to buy a €0.50 voucher for McDonalds. There is a turnstile blocking you from using the bathroom. I found out from my Host-Father that this is a legal grey area. There is a law that says that you can't charge to use the bathroom in Austria. However so many people were going to McDonalds to use the bathroom without buying anything, they made it so you have to buy the voucher ensuring that you will at some be forced to buy SOMETHING from McDonalds. I told him that in the US McDonalds was basically served as a road trip rest stop where it was common knowledge that you could stop and use the bathroom without buying anything. And you could stop and pump out a gallon of free Ketchup while you are at it.

National Socialism

Today was the first day we actually got into talking about Nazis.

I knew it was coming. It had been mentioned before, we saw various historical Nazi sites while in Munich, and we have a trip to the concentration camp Mauthausen scheduled for the Upper Austria field trip. I have mostly been avoiding the subject, as being the only Jewish student on this trip has the potential to end up like this:

http://www.theonion.com/articles/only-jewish-kid-in-class-asked-to-talk-about-holoc,5663/

But what makes this trip and these discussions different from the plethora of other holocaust lessons in school is the realization that THIS is where it all took place, and in particular, where it took place for my family. It is one thing to be in Germany, where I have been before, and know that the Holocaust was part of the historical legacy there, and quite another to actually be in the place where my family had their homes taken away from them. My Great-Great Grandmother received money from the Austrian government after the war as reparations for taking our house. That becomes all the more real when you imagine the posters, propaganda and political rallies we are seeing pictures of being experienced by people I have actually met, like my Great-Grandmother Hilda and her brother Ernest, who just recently wrote a book about his escape story and time fighting with the American army in WWII.

One of the problems is that I have never been a gung-ho "NEVER FORGET" kind of a person. It pains me to constantly be told to feel persecuted, or alienated when my actual social reality is that of a normal American teenager who has never experienced Anti-Semitism, or at least only in jest (which still really bugs me, but I understand that it is not serious).

For our Understanding Austria class, we have to write a paper explaining whether or not we think it is importnat that young people visit Mauthausen I can honestly say, I don't know. On the one hand, it is important to learn from those mistakes, and keep the legacy of those who died alive. On the other, these things we can't unsee, and they leave scars. I feel often times that I constantly live with the Jewish ethos of victimization; After all, we say every Passover that each one of us is to personally feel that we were delivered from Egyptian slavery. But even though I have the desire to shake off those feelings and get on with my life, which is wholly American and privileged, it may be more important to subject myself to things I would rather not deal with. I will have to see what my Gentile compatriots think about this too.

Everything Here is Something

Jason and I went today to find a coffee shop here in Salzburg worthy of hanging out and doing homework. He was adamant about finding a reliable internet connection, as well as finding the intelligentsia and youth culture. I was mostly looking for a place to sit down. We decided to go across the river Salzach as an adventure, since the Getreidegasse, the location of Mozart's birthplace, is riddled with tourists and is overpriced. We walked past many mouthwatering bakeries and Konditoreis, none of which had internet, and several of which were engulfed in carcinogenic clouds of smoke. While walking along a deserted alley full of bars, Jason spotted a sign reading "Immernett" and asked "Does that mean Internet?" I said "No, actually that means 'Always Nice'."

On the way, we found a discount store selling all sorts of odds and ends including gloves, which Jason was looking for, slippers, which I was looking for last week before finding a fuzzy pair at the mall, wigs and costumes for Fashing, the Fat Tuesday carnival this month, and erotic playing cards.

We finally gave up and made our way back to the school-side of the river, when we passed stairs leading up to "Coffee Symphony" which turned out to be a wonderful, warm coffeeshop where Jason ordered "the best carmel coffee I have ever had," as well as some Frankfurters mit Semmlen. When I asked for a bite, he offered me the piece off of his fork, unsure of how to transmit it to me. He said "I almost just fed you." and I said, "I almost just let you." it was almost romantic. My tea was served in a pot on a tray with a stick of rock candy. I was reminded of how Dad had said Europe would be "Civilized" like eating breakfast at Julius Minel.

The couple at the next table were giggling and I am sure it was because I was puzzling out my German homework aloud which I am sure any Austrian second grader could have done in about two seconds. In between the frustration of navigating this new country and negotiating simple transactions such as ordering food or going to the bathroom in McDonalds (where you have to buy a voucher to prove that you will buy something and not just use the bathroom and leave) I have to admit that Austria is designed to be quite relaxing and pleasant.