I've written
before about the blessing of feeling at home in so many different places, and
I’m reminded of that everyday that I wake up in this beautiful city. I moved to
Vienna two weeks ago, and it has been a whirlwind of exhausting activity and
utter excitement. I spent most of the first week shopping and assembling
furniture with one of my best friends, without whose help I’m not sure I would
have survived. Once my apartment was in habitable condition, I was left with
the errands and bureaucracy that go along with a move to another country. At
some point this past week, I finally sat back and realized that while there was
much I could and probably should do, for the first time since I arrived in
Vienna, there was nothing I had to do. That is when I really started enjoying
my new life.
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| Oberlaa Cafe, Währinger Strasse |
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| Volksoper Subway Station |
One day, I
woke up and went for a wander through my neighborhood. I stopped by the
Lebanese snack shop downstairs to say hi to my new Arabic-speaking buddy I had
met a few days earlier. I told him I need to improve my Arabic, so he only
speaks to me in Arabic now, and I’m really excited about the practice. A little
further up the street, I wandered through one of the nearby parks, and then
found my way to my local wine shop. The place is filled with all sorts of
goodies from wine and liquor to gourmet foods, and the shopkeeper was happy to
help me pick out a good local bottle of wine. A bit in the opposite direction, I
took a stroll through the Kutschkermarket, my local fresh produce market. I
have yet to try the food at the small snack stand operated by the market cheese
booth, but the food looks and smells delicious. The old folks of the
neighborhood hang out and gossip on the benches under the large tree in front
of the market. Across the street is a well-known coffee shop and patisserie,
and an ice cream shop next door. The Italian restaurant down the way has
stereo-typically slow Italian waiters, but the food is generally quite good,
and they have the best bruschetta in town.
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Kutschkermarkt
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On
Saturday, I started the day off with a walk through the inner city stopping
briefly to enjoy the music and festivities of a small wine festival being
hosted by one of the banks. What better way to recruit new accounts than
free-flowing wine, a brass band, and bankers in lederhosen? The occasional
yodel brought a smirk to my face and a strange sense of comfort to my heart.
Shortly thereafter, a group of protestors marched by, trailed by the police,
carrying a sign advocating women’s rights. The young protestors seemed to have
their real objectives tangled up in an adolescent sense of rebellion, and they
stumbled over their angry chants. “Kein Gott, Kein Staat, Kein Patriarchie!”
they would yell twice, but the third time people started forgetting what they
were supposed to say. Eventually, the whole group was mumbling until the group
leader would use the loud speaker to get everyone back on track again. It
bothered me that they chanted for an end to religion and politics as part of
their mission to help women, but my concerns quickly subsided along with the
annunciation of their slogan.
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| Erste Bank Wine Festival am Graben |
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Kohlmarkt
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Am Graben
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| Hoch- und Deutschmeister Band |
Two of my
classmates met me to see the Hoch- und Deutschmeister Band perform their last
march of the summer season. The band is a throwback to the old military bands
of the Austrian Empire, and we marched behind them through the city to the
Hofburg Palace where we lounged in the sun beneath the oxidized bronze glare of
a Roman-styled Austrian Emperor while the band played classics like “The
Beautiful Blue Danube.”
After a
quick tour of the inner city, we met up with yet more of our classmates to grab
an introductory drink and get to know each other a bit before classes start. I
am almost certainly the oldest in my class, which is a new feeling for me, but
not an unpleasant one. Later in the afternoon, we browsed through the
Naschmarkt, the large outdoor food market in town. That evening, I met up with
another old friend and his girlfriend for some drinks and a very pleasant
dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant. Maybe (or almost certainly) I’m a bit
odd, but nothing feels quite so empowering as being personally greeted by the
owner and waiters of a restaurant. It probably means that I eat out too much,
or just eat too much in general, but the false sense of importance it gives me
is one of my more harmless vices.
I started
Sunday off with a couchsurfing brunch near Spittelberg, where I met some really
fun people and even another alumnus of my high school. Afterwards, I took two
new visitors to Vienna for a cold wet walk around the rainy city. They seemed
to be in awe of the grand palatial buildings and rich history and culture of
which Vienna is full. A quick prayer at St. Stephens Cathedral, and we were
once again wandering down a chilly Kärtnerstrasse. My companions soon asked
about the possibility of seeing a classical concert, and I was immediately on
my phone checking schedules. It just so happened that a concert at the
Musikverein was starting in 15 minutes, so we picked up our pace and made it
just in time to grab a couple tickets and relax in the warmth of the concert.
An added perk was the appearance of the 86 year old composer Friedrich Cerha
after the orchestra had just performed one of his works.
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| Musikverein |
Sitting
back and staring at the gilded details of the ceiling while the mind absorbed
the peaceful melancholy of the Ravel piece that the pianist played, I couldn’t
stop thinking about how fortunate I really am.
