Vienna New Year's Eve. Part One

Early this afternoon we drove through an army of fat snowflakes to B's parents house, on the other side of Vienna. The click-clack of the wipers, the swishing of the tires on the wet streets, the people walking by with their umbrellas, their parkas, their stocking caps. The architecture, so different from Oklahoma. A snowy OtherPlace.

B's sister R joined us soon after we arrived, and we sat down to a great meal: beef broth with strips of salted pancakes (like soft noodles), and then the main course of roedeer with gravy and potatoes, a pretty decent Italian red wine. Ice cream for desert, and coffee.

They have New Year's traditions here. One is the giving of good luck charms, which are as follows: the chimney sweep, the pig, the horseshoe, the toadstool and the clover. B's folks gave us little figurines incorporating all these features: a pig wearing a chimney sweep's hat, with a clover and a horseshoe at the pig's feet. So we can't help but have a lucky 2008.

We watched a brief slide show I'd requested---B's dad dug out some old family slides and I got to see photos of B and R and kids, ranging in age from about 2 to about 15. I know: slide shows are like watching an old man chew a tough steak, except more boring. But I enjoyed looking back at these sisters I know only as adults, and looking at much younger versions of their parents. It was kind of charming.

B and I said our Auf Wiedersehens and drove into the center of town to catch just a bit of the madness of Vienna's massive New Year's celebration. The 1st District is taken over by hundreds of thousands of people strolling around, drinking Punsch, and buying the obligatory good luck figurines. We saw a lot of people wearing pig hats...

The locals know the madness only gets worse as the night progresses, so they do what we did and spend a couple of hours or so walking around or dropping into coffeehouses or restaurants, then they get the hell out and leave the celebration to the tourists.

It can get kind of dangerous, according to B's friend Eti, who with his wife Ina joined us for a drink at one of the local cafes: at midnight, drunken revelers like to throw their empty champagne or beer bottles high into the air. Imagine one of those things falling on your skull, courtesy of our friend Mr. Gravity.

The other fun thing is to get hit with flying rockets, or have a huge explosion go off in your ear. Though strictly verboten, fireworks go off at all hours of the night and day in the 48 hours or so leading up to Silvester (which is what the Austrians call New Year's Eve.) Some of these fireworks are pretty powerful, judging from the sound of them. Like our old M-80s. I've been hearing what sound like shotgun blasts since Saturday, and the WHOOSH! of rockets firing off. Today it only got worse. Imagine some drunk fuckard firing a string of those things off in the middle of a huge crowd downtown...

After a couple of hours walking the slushy streets, we drove home to a extraordinary supper:

gravlax (which I must admit I was a bit squeamish about when it was first introduced to me by B when we first met, but which I've since come to love), a salad, and a nice white wine B's dad sent home with us.

B made the obligatory mustard sauce to go along with the gravlax, and this is what we ended up looking at, then scarfing up:

BLACKOUT

Last night, a sudden scary realization:

I could remember nothing of my arrival in Vienna.

I couldn't remember the plane landing, I couldn't remember saying goodbye to my Albanian seatmate, I couldn't remember grabbing my bag and exiting the plane, I couldn't remember walking to passport control, nor to the baggage carousel.

I couldn't remember fetching my bag, meeting B, our walk through to the parking lot, or the drive to her place. I couldn't remember walking upstairs.

I still can't remember any of this. B says I was lucid when I talked with her, but obviously somewhat whacked out. And when I got to her place, I flopped on the couch and slept for about four hours. I remember everything that happened after awakening.

Me brothers and sisters, this is a frightening thing. Blacking out, remembering nothing. What did I do? What happened during the missing time? Fortunately the only time I had to myself was the walk from the plane through the airport to the place where B met me...and because I've done this several times before, I more or less know what must have happened. But I don't really know.

Despite my jokes about alcohol and drugs, I don't drink that much and only take sleeping pills on transatlantic plane trips. Which happens seldom enough that I'm not used to the dosage, having used different pills each time---Ambien, Halcyon, whatever.

I do seem to recall warnings not to mix alcohol and sleeping pills, but I've ignored those warnings before with no problems.

But this time, I drank a bit more than usual (free hootch on Austrian Airlines) and took the pills way too late in the flight---with only about 4 or 5 hours left. Stupid.

It's kind of scary to simply lose track of a morning like that, not know exactly what you did and said and how you behaved while doing and saying it.

Hmm. Well. Ahem.

Live and learn.

Yet Another Good Walk Unspoiled

B's friend Margit came over today. Then we drove up into the vineyards adjacent to this part of Vienna, parked the car, and took a nice hike.

While Vienna itself has been cold, with gray skies, I haven't seen much in the way of ice or frost or snow. However, in the vineyards, perhaps just a mile or so as the crow flies, fog had created exquisite needle-like frost formations on the trees, thus:

If you click on the pic to enlarge it, you'll see the thousands of cactus-like needles, so delicate that the slightest touch causes them to fall from the branch. They aren't sharp at all, but look like they'd slice you to ribbons.

There were a lot of people with the same idea---a Sunday afternoon hike---and a few bold souls were riding their bikes along the snowy trails.

Aside from the muffled quiet of a walk through the woods, another reward waited for people who made it this far: a good glass of wine or some roasted chestnuts from some guys who had set up this stand.

People took a little break to stand around sipping their wine or punch from wine-barrel tables.

I shot this pic at the start of our hike, and when we'd come around full circle the place was twice as crowded. We stopped and shared a cup of hot spiced wine...

Some folks had their dogs with them. Dogs in Austria seem very well behaved. I don't know what the difference is---maybe they just get out among strangers a lot more often, but one doesn't encounter nearly as many yapping mutts here.

And maybe it's just that you're meeting them on neutral territory, instead of at their place, where they're naturally inclined to feel more protective. I dunno.

It wasn't nearly as cold as this shot suggests:

Christbaum

Here's a shot of B's Christmas tree.

I don't know enough about trees to tell you the exact variety here, but obviously it's different than the sort we typically use in America. For one thing, it's real. For another, it's not as bushy (for lack of a better word) as what we generally have.

But probably the biggest difference is the use of real candles on the tree. Obviously one has to take appropriate safety precautions, but the effect is very warm and pleasant---and believe it or not, this many small candles can warm a room noticeably in just a short time.

Since my mom died, Christmas hasn't meant very much to me. She was the engine behind our family's Christmas celebrations, and they kind of just...vanished with her.

It's nice to get some of that good holiday feeling again. When people take the time to select a tree, bring it home, haul it up three flights of stairs, decorate it, etc. etc., it means they haven't lost what I've lost.

Unlike Golf, We Had A Good Walk NOT Spoiled

The title of the post refers to someone's famous definition of golf as "A good walk spoiled."

You can tell it's an ancient definition, because if I ever saw a golfer actually WALK the course, I think I'd have a heart attack. Not to mention the fact that THEY would have a heart attack from the expenditure of effort. These days they drive around in golf carts, swilling hootch.

But fuck that and them, because B and I had a great walk here, through the neighborhood.

Her neighborhood is filled with Heurige...wine taverns. Many were closed, however, and I noticed the traffic through the neighborhood was almost non-existent, very unusual for a Saturday night.

It was dark and still and very quiet, and the orange glow of the street lights on the wet pavement made everything extra surreal-seeming. We found one Heuriger that was open, but for a private party only...people had already gathered, some of them in an inner patio, huddled around a fire, smiling and drinking mulled wine.

However, we found another Heuriger just a block or so away and sat among the locals enjoying our drinks, B a nice house white and me a Glühwein, which comes in a coffee cup. It's heated red wine with a teabag containing spices. Good stuff for a winter night walk through the 'hood...

We wandered around a bit more, making our way to Fidelio. There I had a fantastic Parmesan Prosciutto Creme soup. Un.Be.Lievable! B had a broth, and the waitress treated us afterwards to a pear liquor aperitif. On the house.

Beethoven lived around here. This neighborhood is very old, and in fact was once a separate village, Nussdorf, which later got incorporated into Vienna. It's the place I'm most familiar with in Vienna, a place I walk almost every day. I have a little ritual on weekdays, walking down to the bakery for some bread, to the Trafik for B's daily newspaper or a pack of smokes, then back again...past the pensioners walking their dogs, past the little kids on the way to school, past the frantic drivers zipping through the narrow cobblestone streets on their way to some nameless nothing.

Back at the house, we ate the spinach quiche B had prepared earlier. I slept, still carrying the residual effects of the sleeping pills and the booze, I guess. Time gets out of whack, me brothers and sisters, but that's what happens when you transport yourself Elsewhere.

The Stumbling Eagle Has Landed

OKC to Dulles via United, no problems (except being crammed into a seat next to a linebacker-sized guy).

On the flight to DC, I scanned the SkyMall catalog out of boredom. In this, the land of singing plastic fish you can hang over the mantle, one would think we've exhausted our supply of horribly tacky, useless novelty shit. But, no. Among the winners I spotted: A travel mug with a clock built into it so you can keep track of time while guzzling your grog AND, the Alive Elvis Animatronic Robot.

No thank you. No thank you very much, man..and no wonder this country is going to shit, with people willing to design, manufacture, and worst of all BUY shit like this.

One cool thing at Dulles are the "mobile lounges," elevated boxcars on wheels with drivers compartments on both ends. These are designed to take passengers from terminal to terminal and even lift up to the aircraft door if need be. I thought I was in some kind of Mad Max movie...

On board the plane, got into a great conversation with a young dude from Albania, heading home to visit. He's been living in the States 11 years...designs software. His English was nearly without accent. And, in an odd turn of events, he confessed to me that he first thought I was the foreigner, a European on my way home somewhere.

I was once mistaken for a Frenchman aboard an Air France plane, so I'm not sure what the confusion is about. Maybe I need to gain 75 pounds and start wearing tacky t-shirts.

My Albanian friend and I took advantage of the civilized Austrian Air hospitality and each had a beer and a couple of glasses of wine prior to and during our dinner. (Dig---FREE HOOTCH!)

I had a number of questions for the guy---how is Albania moving forward since the fall of Communism, what exactly are these "ethnic Albanians" I keep hearing about, what does the country look like, what should I see if I go there. He also filled me in on the troubles that occurred since the breakup of the old Yugoslavia, patiently laying it out for me----who the players were, which republic had what in the way of natural resources, weaponry, etc.

We talked openly about differences in attitudes and behaviors between Americans and Europeans. He liked almost everything about America but did have some good-natured jibes for some of our attitudes and behavior, particularly under-age drinking. By the time he entered college, he'd been drinking for years in Albania and couldn't understand the forbidden-fruit, drink-way-too-much 'tudes of his American counterparts, who drank like thirsty fish all the time. He also couldn't understand the panic amongst the kids when the cops showed up for the first time at one of the parties.

We ate, I popped a couple of Halcyon, walked to the head for a last minute piss. While standing in line for the facility, I glanced into the rear galley and saw a cool picture---the Austrian Air flight attendants in their red dresses and stockings, sitting on metal boxes, eating their dinners. Like campers huddled around an imaginary campfire. It would have made a great picture but I respected their privacy.

Back to the seat, a bit more chit-chat, and the next thing I knew I was knocked dead. Slept as I have never slept on a plane. Was awakened by the flight attendant, telling me to put my seat in the upright position. I've taken two Halcyon before, but never with two glasses of wine and an Ottakringer beer, so I may have to moderate my dose somewhat next trip.

It was kind of hard to walk, and I was still fucked up hours later. Slept for about 4 hours at B's.

B then fixed a magnificent breakfast---cheeses, orange juice, yogurt, bread, different kind of meat. There's a quiche in the kitchen for later.

Skies have been gray in Vienna for weeks, and it gets dark really early---about 4:30. I can hear church bells tolling in the distance. The street below is quiet. From this third floor window, I can look through the trees across the street, uncovered by leaves in winter, and see the rest of Vienna spread before me in the pitch darkness.

Jethro is back.

Christmas In Vienna

My first trip to Vienna was in early December of 2003. I only stayed a week because that's all the time I could get.

In his article A WIEN ROMANCE, Guardian writer Nigel Slater describes what I saw. Nigel nails it pretty much on the head.

This article made me more clearly remember my first visit to that wonderful city---and reminds me how Christmas used to be. I haven't had a Christmas like his in many years, and I think a large part of that is how we've managed to transform it into a tacky celebration of everything commercial.

Airport Security

I wish I could draw, particularly in the style of Gary Larson of FAR SIDE fame.

Because if I could draw, I'd do a single panel cartoon of a bunch of dogs going through airport security. Everyone's a dog---the passengers, the air crew, and especially the TSA personnel.

Instead of going through a metal detector, I would show the passenger dogs getting their assholes sniffed by the TSA dogs.

The caption would read: NO NEED TO REMOVE YOUR SHOES.

Ninth Trip Through The Pipe

Leaving the 28th for Vienna. My ninth trip there...

The other night, amidst the noise of the machines at The Plant, my mind ever drifting towards Vienna and the woman waiting there, I thought:

This flying back and forth is not really sustainable, long term.

Consider the prodigious amount of fuel a Pratt & Whitney, Rolls-Royce, or General Electric jet engine burns. Consider the many, many thousands of such engines stuck beneath the wings or in the tail sections of the many thousands of passenger jets scattered throughout the world.

Consider the many thousands of flights occurring each and every day, these planes screaming here and there like giant birds, their asses afire.

While it's possible to power our homes and businesses and ground-based transport with alternative energy sources, I don't really see how we can rig a passenger jet to run on solar or wind or nuclear or steam. Do you?

Which means the future of transoceanic travel may look a lot like its past, with people climbing gangplanks of huge ships, instead of being crammed like sardines into large metal flying tubes. This means you'll have to allow lots of time getting to and fro, and for the total time away. The pace will be slower. But I bet they still run you through a metal detector and make you take your shoes off. And maybe even whip out the proctoscope.

There will probably still be passenger jets, sure, but only the very rich will be using them. The number and frequency of routes will diminish to a trickle of present-day levels.

I guess I'm part of the problem, flying back and forth like this. Same with my girlfriend, when she flies here and back. But the fucking planes fly with or without us aboard, so what's a guy to do but fiddle & diddle while Rome burns all its petroleum?