I'll have to post the next few times sans pictures; I left my card reader in Vienna so can't upload pics until I return late Monday night. Or Tuesday. You'll have to wait.
But here's what happened today. We woke up, had breakfast, and hit the street. Picked up some items for the big feast which was scheduled for later at A's parents place in the hills in the outskirts of Barcelona.
This place is rather spectacular. It's VERY hilly and people have built house all over the steep hillsides even though it's illegal, strictly speaking. The ins and outs of how people got away with this is beyond my understanding, but suffice it to say that it's a pretty impressive setting. As you'll see when I post a picture.
The market bears special mention. It's one of those fascinating European markets but because Barcelona is a seaport, there was a Shiite-load of fresh seafood of every kind----weird fish I've never seen before, their dead black eyeballs following me as I walked around. I also saw some sardines and they were so shiny silver in color they looked like they were chrome-plated.
So after B, M, and I grabbed the groceries, we took the subway out. A was already there, stoking the outdoor fire. He was preparing a multi-course dinner, the first course of which was spring onions. When possible, these are grilled over a fire made of large grape vines. A used some other kind of wood, but don't worry---the onions were great. It took quite a while to grill them because we'd bought about 150 to feed the 14 people who eventually showed up, us included.
The weather report promised sun, but it stayed hidden behind gray skies all day. The temperature wasn't bad, though, and I got by most of the time wearing a sweatshirt. It was good it didn't rain because the house was quite tiny, and fitting fourteen people in there would have been a hell of a chore.
Eventually the others showed up and the fun began in earnest.
One of my favorites was Joan (which is Catalan for JUAN, not a woman's name), a stocky bearded man who looked a bit like the Italian actor Bud Spencer. This guy had a pair of Ray-Bans that only left his face until just a few minutes before everyone took off, many hours later. Inside, outside, it didn't matter: Ray-Bans. He was a quiet guy who didn't speak too much but enjoyed his beer, his wine, and his food. I let my imagination roam a bit and in my mind's eye, Joan was a film director. Quiet, confident, having a good time but thinking constantly about his next film, too. (What the guy actually does for a living, I don't know.)
Another favorite was Angel, a very friendly and vivacious guy. His English was excellent. "Where are you from in America?" he asked. "Oklahoma." "Ah, Oklahoma! I know it well. I spent six years at the U of T in Austin. I attended a few Sooner games. I had a girlfriend from Tulsa, spent some time there..."
"Why were you at UT?"
"I was getting a PhD," he said. Later I learned he taught both at UT and at Notre Dame. Spanish and Italian literature.
Angel and I had a lot of interesting talks through the day. "I loved Austin," he said. "When I was there, the late 70s, it was kind of like the end of the 60s still. Then came Reagan and everything went to shit."
No kidding...
He also told the tale of the Texas governor, whose name I can't recall, who, when asked about the "bi-lingual problem," answered (and I'm paraphrasing): "The Bible was written in ENGLISH, and if English was good enough for Jesus, it's good enough for me!" Everybody laughed at the stupid Texas governor and his Homer Simpson-esque comment.
When the onions are grilled properly, they're quite black on the outside and a bit soft. They're removed from the grill and wrapped in newspaper, then put into the oven to keep warm. It took a few hours to grill up all the onions. While we waited, there was an interesting snack: snails, which Montse brought. These weren't escargot but small snails, some with striped shells. I was kind of squeamish but by then I'd had a few drinks and everyone was laughing and jovial and friendly so I said, fuck it, I'll eat the snails.
I think the snails were steamed. You dig them out of the shells with a toothpick and really, they were pretty good! To me they looked and tasted a bit like sauteed shiitake mushrooms. I ate five or six of them, and joined the others in dipping bread in the juice the snails had been prepared in.
Eating grilled spring onions is kind of messy, so most of us wore aprons. You peel the blackened skin of the onions downward from the top of the stalk. Then you dip the onion in sauce and lower the whole thing into your mouth, like those old pictures of college kids eating goldfish. Except, the grilled spring onions taste good, unlike the goldfish...
Your hands get pretty black. When the onions are finally gone (which doesn't take too long, especially compared to the time it takes to grill them) then you wash off so you can tackle what comes next, which was:
Grilled sausages.
Next course: lambchops. I don't think I've ever had lamb before. Pretty good; grilled just right, some course salt sprinked over it when it's placed on the grill...
There was a bit of drinking associated with all this but the feast was spread over such a long period of time that nobody really got too wasted. Or ANY wasted, really. Everyone got kind of nicely LUBED UP, though.
These folks, southern Europeans all, were friendly and laughing and uninhibited. I have friends I like in Austria and they're the same, but the Austrians in general seem a bit more reserved in large gatherings than the Spaniards. The women invited us to go dancing with them later that night, but we were getting kind of tired and things start late here, the dancing included, so we declined. But it was nice to be asked and the women actually seemed a little disappointed that we wouldn't be coming.
However, they did invite us to a big party later in the year. "What's the occasion?" B asked. The women shrugged. "Just because. To celebrate!" Celebrate LIFE, I think they meant...
It got dark and everyone left. We cleaned up, shut the house down, and walked back to the train station. And on the way, on the winding road leading down the hills to the station, I saw something I've never seen before: wild boars, coming right toward us. Two pairs of them. They saw us and turned, going up the steep hills. It's a bit sobering being close to these porkers, as they have a reputation for being pretty mean when you piss them off. Fortunately there were no piglets around, because that's when they can REALLY get kind of stirred up.
But the boars minded their own piggy business and we minded ours, and soon we were back home in the heart of Barcelona, for quiet conversation and a few drinks and then, a bit of reading. Then bed.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Day 6 of 14: Never Been To Spain, Until Today. Maybe.
This afternoon we're supposed to fly to Barcelona. It'll be my first time. B's been there several times...
But, in watching the departure times for the flight over the past week or so, we notice that the plane has been leaving hours late, which means we may actually arrive very early tomorrow morning.
Anyhow. We'll be there until late Monday, then we fly back to Vienna.
These blog posts may or may not be timely---not sure of the computer situation where we're staying.
----
OK. We made it with no problem. Plane left more or less on time, and arrived a bit early.
Took the bus to the center of town. Barcelona is a bustling city! Relatively warm tonight, I'd say maybe 55 degrees F., TONS of people in the streets walking here and there, going about their weekend activities....beautiful architecture, etc.
Grabbed a cab from the center of town to the home of our hosts, M and A. Fare was about 6.70 Euros and I gave the guy a 10, told him to keep the change. Got scolded by B for this, and maybe it was too much, but WTF? He was a happy Spaniard, and we got where we were going.
A, the husband, made an excellent dish---fish with rice. Served with a a very nice white wine.
Then A invited me to try his massage chair. I sat down, he pressed a button, the thing reclined slowly, and for the next fifteen minutes the thing whirled and swirled and did its thing. Between the wine and the massage chair, I'm ready for bed.
A few good conversations with M, the. wife, and now to bed. Tomorrow, a big day. We drive out to the country for a Spring Onion Festival...kind of a Catalonian tradition.
But, in watching the departure times for the flight over the past week or so, we notice that the plane has been leaving hours late, which means we may actually arrive very early tomorrow morning.
Anyhow. We'll be there until late Monday, then we fly back to Vienna.
These blog posts may or may not be timely---not sure of the computer situation where we're staying.
----
OK. We made it with no problem. Plane left more or less on time, and arrived a bit early.
Took the bus to the center of town. Barcelona is a bustling city! Relatively warm tonight, I'd say maybe 55 degrees F., TONS of people in the streets walking here and there, going about their weekend activities....beautiful architecture, etc.
Grabbed a cab from the center of town to the home of our hosts, M and A. Fare was about 6.70 Euros and I gave the guy a 10, told him to keep the change. Got scolded by B for this, and maybe it was too much, but WTF? He was a happy Spaniard, and we got where we were going.
A, the husband, made an excellent dish---fish with rice. Served with a a very nice white wine.
Then A invited me to try his massage chair. I sat down, he pressed a button, the thing reclined slowly, and for the next fifteen minutes the thing whirled and swirled and did its thing. Between the wine and the massage chair, I'm ready for bed.
A few good conversations with M, the. wife, and now to bed. Tomorrow, a big day. We drive out to the country for a Spring Onion Festival...kind of a Catalonian tradition.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Day 5 of 14: Rainy Day Vienna Walkabout
B had a dental appointment today. We took the subway into town. She went to her appointment and I walked around for about 90 minutes. Stuff I noticed:
1) Wish I'd gotten a picture of an elegantly dressed man who resembled Captain Kangaroo, leaning against a building on the Ringstrasse, talking on his phone. I have fond memories of Captain Kangaroo. I remember him teaching me (and millions of other kids) what he called "The Magic Words." PLEASE and THANK YOU.
What are the magic words kids learn today? Probably GIMMEE THAT and FUCK YOU.
2) I saw a guy pulling the old shell game on some tourist suckers. I'm not enough of a con-man to know all the ins and outs of it, but my buddy Tony D. The Magician knows these scams, and I would have loved Tony to be there today. We could have walked up like eager suckers, bet the farm, then revealed the con-man's bullshit right there in front of everyone...
3) On the subway, I glanced over at one of these new ultra-strollers the uber-yuppizoidal women like to roll their infants around in...one of those three-wheelers that cost several hundred bucks, so Mommy can go jogging down to Bergsdorf or wherever, her elegant sweat captured by her $200 headband. I noticed something about this stroller---
It had DISC BRAKES. I couldn't believe it. How damned fast do these women jog, anyway? Wish I'd gotten a picture of the elaborate setup, with the handbrake on the handle of the pram, connected via steel cables to the disc brakes.
Speaking of disc brakes, I stumbled upon this nice little red car:
The price, if that sort of thing interests you, starts with a 2 and ends with several 0's. SEVERAL. That's in Euros, BTW, not dollars, so add about 30% and you get the idea.
If you click on the pic to enlarge it, you might notice a little red hobby horse to the left. I didn't want to know the price, but I bet Disc-Brake Stroller Lady would know. But probably wouldn't care.
Interestingly, they also had a Ferrari pedal car on display. I'm not making this up.
Here's a somewhat interesting building in the 10th District.
Not sure if the facade is stainless steel or aluminum.
Visit any pharmacy in Vienna and you'll probably see a display like this. These are herbal teas with specific healing properties. Unlike America, an Austrian pharmacist might actually recommend these teas as an alternative to allopathic meds.
Of course we have teas like this in America, but they often are of lower quality, not manufactured (is that even the right word?) to strict quality levels.
The Austrians have such lower-quality teas, too, but they won't sell them in pharmacies.
Statue of a famous music-composing guy.
Evidently, he had the beet. Or liked beets.
Something having to do with beets, this dude had...
Your carriage awaits.
These things line up in various parts of town. B tells me many of the drivers are ex-cons, as it is one of the few jobs it's relatively easy for them to get.
There were ten or twelve of these lined up in front of the Stephansdom this afternoon, but not a lot of touristas looking for a carriage ride, I guess.
A picture of my lunch shortly before it vanished.
This is called Knoedelpfanne. It's kind of a traditional Austrian dish composed of leftover potato dumplings, a scrambled egg, some ham, and bell peppers. Very tasty.
We got it at Meixner's, a place we'd never been before. I'd like to go back next time I'm here...
In other news, the search for a man-purse continues, and I bought a pair of shoes to replace the heavy steel-toed work boots I've been wearing, the only pair of footwear I brought with me.
The boots, BTW, are made by a company called Iron Age, which sadly has declared bankruptcy. I bought my boots more than five years ago and they're still holding up fine. I think I paid about $90 for them and can probably get five more years out of them, easy. I'll be leaving them here in Vienna when I go home, so I'll have a pair on hand for hikes in the hills or winter strolls next year.
And finally, in news of The Abnormal Psychology of John X: B says my newfound interest in shopping for a murse, and for shoes, is starting to worry her.
I'm getting a little concerned about it, myself....
...next thing you know I'll be comparing disc-brake equipped prams with the other yuppie women.
1) Wish I'd gotten a picture of an elegantly dressed man who resembled Captain Kangaroo, leaning against a building on the Ringstrasse, talking on his phone. I have fond memories of Captain Kangaroo. I remember him teaching me (and millions of other kids) what he called "The Magic Words." PLEASE and THANK YOU.
What are the magic words kids learn today? Probably GIMMEE THAT and FUCK YOU.
2) I saw a guy pulling the old shell game on some tourist suckers. I'm not enough of a con-man to know all the ins and outs of it, but my buddy Tony D. The Magician knows these scams, and I would have loved Tony to be there today. We could have walked up like eager suckers, bet the farm, then revealed the con-man's bullshit right there in front of everyone...
3) On the subway, I glanced over at one of these new ultra-strollers the uber-yuppizoidal women like to roll their infants around in...one of those three-wheelers that cost several hundred bucks, so Mommy can go jogging down to Bergsdorf or wherever, her elegant sweat captured by her $200 headband. I noticed something about this stroller---
It had DISC BRAKES. I couldn't believe it. How damned fast do these women jog, anyway? Wish I'd gotten a picture of the elaborate setup, with the handbrake on the handle of the pram, connected via steel cables to the disc brakes.
Speaking of disc brakes, I stumbled upon this nice little red car:
The price, if that sort of thing interests you, starts with a 2 and ends with several 0's. SEVERAL. That's in Euros, BTW, not dollars, so add about 30% and you get the idea.If you click on the pic to enlarge it, you might notice a little red hobby horse to the left. I didn't want to know the price, but I bet Disc-Brake Stroller Lady would know. But probably wouldn't care.
Interestingly, they also had a Ferrari pedal car on display. I'm not making this up.
Here's a somewhat interesting building in the 10th District.
Not sure if the facade is stainless steel or aluminum.
Visit any pharmacy in Vienna and you'll probably see a display like this. These are herbal teas with specific healing properties. Unlike America, an Austrian pharmacist might actually recommend these teas as an alternative to allopathic meds.Of course we have teas like this in America, but they often are of lower quality, not manufactured (is that even the right word?) to strict quality levels.
The Austrians have such lower-quality teas, too, but they won't sell them in pharmacies.
Statue of a famous music-composing guy.
Evidently, he had the beet. Or liked beets.
Something having to do with beets, this dude had...
Your carriage awaits.These things line up in various parts of town. B tells me many of the drivers are ex-cons, as it is one of the few jobs it's relatively easy for them to get.
There were ten or twelve of these lined up in front of the Stephansdom this afternoon, but not a lot of touristas looking for a carriage ride, I guess.
A picture of my lunch shortly before it vanished.This is called Knoedelpfanne. It's kind of a traditional Austrian dish composed of leftover potato dumplings, a scrambled egg, some ham, and bell peppers. Very tasty.
We got it at Meixner's, a place we'd never been before. I'd like to go back next time I'm here...
In other news, the search for a man-purse continues, and I bought a pair of shoes to replace the heavy steel-toed work boots I've been wearing, the only pair of footwear I brought with me.
The boots, BTW, are made by a company called Iron Age, which sadly has declared bankruptcy. I bought my boots more than five years ago and they're still holding up fine. I think I paid about $90 for them and can probably get five more years out of them, easy. I'll be leaving them here in Vienna when I go home, so I'll have a pair on hand for hikes in the hills or winter strolls next year.
And finally, in news of The Abnormal Psychology of John X: B says my newfound interest in shopping for a murse, and for shoes, is starting to worry her.
I'm getting a little concerned about it, myself....
...next thing you know I'll be comparing disc-brake equipped prams with the other yuppie women.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Day 4 of 14: A Cautionary Mobile Phone Tale, Micro-Car, A Family Visit
I had a mobile account with AT&T for years. No problems with the service, but the price was too high. I rarely talk on my mobile...maybe 80 minutes a month or thereabouts.
So I shopped around for a prepaid account. I'd have stayed with AT&T if they could have matched T-Mobile's deal, but they couldn't. So I switched to T-Mobile a couple of weeks ago. Instead of paying nearly $500 a year for service, I figure I'll now pay about $100. An 80% savings, right? Oh, I was proud of myself! Mr. Penny Pincher.
But there's always a catch. Or catches.
First catch: I had to buy a new phone. My old AT&T phone wouldn't work on T-Mobile's network. Fine. There were three choices of phones: cheap, not cheap, expensive. "Which phone will work internationally as well as domestically?" I asked. Answer: the most expensive of the three. Of course.
So I bought it, and prepaid for 1000 minutes, enough to get me through a year. And on this, my 11th trip to Vienna, I brought my new phone with me so I'd be able to connect with B should we have need, while running around here or in Barcelona (where we're going Friday) or wherever.
But here comes the second catch: The other day I tried to send a text message to a buddy in the States. Nothing happened. Also, I noticed I got ZERO bars---no reception whatsoever. I couldn't connect to the network.
So I messed around on T-Mobile's website, trying to figure this out, and got nowhere. Called them on B's landline, and after going through the usual robotic menu selections, they hung up on me: Please try calling back when we're not so busy, the robotic voice said. Not so busy? It was 3 AM in America. How busy could they have been? Everyone waits until 3 AM to call customer support?
All right. So I emailed them. And just now, when B and I returned from our adventures, I got this lovely response via email:
Please allow me to inform you that prepaid customers cannot roam internationally except in Canada and Mexico. We do apologize but you will not be able to use your phone in Europe. We cannot provide you the SIM unlock code that you needed because your account has not been active for 90 days.
Does this mean that AFTER 90 days I can unlock the SIM? Furthermore, WHY is it locked? Locked against what? And then what? Do I have to get a special SIM that works in Europe? How much does THAT cost? And why the fuck do I have to wait ANY days? It's a PREPAID ACCOUNT. If I use up all my money, cut my phone off and don't worry about it! My bill, you see, is PRE-paid. I can't cheat you out of ANY money by running up a huge bill while roaming internationally!
You know, flying out here, I kind of marvelled at how our society more or less seems to function, more or less reliably. More or less. At least when it comes to technical matters. How do these planes fly? How does the mail get into my mailbox? How does the electricity almost never go off? Etc. What a miraculous age we live in!
But be warned. If you have a prepaid T-Mobile account, forget taking your phone to Europe unless you want to stick it down the front of your pants and continuously check the VIBRATE ringtone function.
Well. In a way, I'm glad I don't have to screw with it. Eleven times here, and when did I ever need a mobile phone before? Answer: never. So what the hell.
---
We ran errands today and on the way back to the car, parked near us, I saw the absolutely SMALLEST car I've ever seen. It's microscopic. It makes the Smart car look huge by comparison.
This is it (photo stolen from Flickr, but this is the car in question):
It's a French car called the Aixam.
I'd love to have one, if they'd go faster than 45 KPH (about 30 MPH.) I mean, sometimes I want to go 46 or even 47 KPH, so this car is out of the question.
But the most fun would be answering this question from all the SUV-driving rednecks and uberyuppies I know:
"Why are you driving THAT tiny thing?"
"I'm trying to compensate for my rather gigantic apparatus."
Which is ridiculous, of course, because I'm only slightly gigantic. But still.
---
Heringsschmaus is a traditional Austrian feast associated with Fasching (that is, the carnival season) and it involves eating fish (traditionally herring, but any fish will do) on Ash Wednesday. Lent begins and you're not supposed to eat meat. At least, not land animal meat, I guess. So, fish.
A lot of restaurants in Vienna offer Heringsshmaus dinners or buffets but the cost has gotten a little out of hand in recent years. But, no problem: B's mom and dad invited us and B's sister, R, over to their house to eat.
As a side note, herring is supposed to be a wonderful cure for hangovers, which you're likely to be suffering as a result of all the drinking you've been doing up until now during Fasching (or maybe just because you're European.)
We didn't have hangovers, B and I, but we were looking forward to Heringsschmaus with her family. B's mom made some fantastic open-face sandwiches:
These sandwiches had either tuna, or sardines, or salmon, or matjes.
She also made a herring salad, which I didn't get a picture of. I was too busy shoveling the stuff into my pie hole.
We sat around the table laughing and telling stories. Later I showed pics and videos of home. It kind of surprised me that B's family wanted to know more about where I live and what goes on there (answer: NOT.TOO.MUCH.) but they did, so it occured to me that I need to shoot a video of the city, my hangouts, my wonderful friends, and my work-in-progress house. Send 'em a DVD.
In a way I'm afraid to do this, because once the Viennese see how horrible their city is in comparison to the fantasy wonderland I inhabit, they'll no doubt begin a mass wave of emigration. But that wouldn't be so bad...we had the Irish, the Italians, the Chinese, etc. through the years and now I guess it's time for the Austrians.
Within a generation, we'll all be eating herring and fine pastries and crying about our horrible soccer team.
So I shopped around for a prepaid account. I'd have stayed with AT&T if they could have matched T-Mobile's deal, but they couldn't. So I switched to T-Mobile a couple of weeks ago. Instead of paying nearly $500 a year for service, I figure I'll now pay about $100. An 80% savings, right? Oh, I was proud of myself! Mr. Penny Pincher.
But there's always a catch. Or catches.
First catch: I had to buy a new phone. My old AT&T phone wouldn't work on T-Mobile's network. Fine. There were three choices of phones: cheap, not cheap, expensive. "Which phone will work internationally as well as domestically?" I asked. Answer: the most expensive of the three. Of course.
So I bought it, and prepaid for 1000 minutes, enough to get me through a year. And on this, my 11th trip to Vienna, I brought my new phone with me so I'd be able to connect with B should we have need, while running around here or in Barcelona (where we're going Friday) or wherever.
But here comes the second catch: The other day I tried to send a text message to a buddy in the States. Nothing happened. Also, I noticed I got ZERO bars---no reception whatsoever. I couldn't connect to the network.
So I messed around on T-Mobile's website, trying to figure this out, and got nowhere. Called them on B's landline, and after going through the usual robotic menu selections, they hung up on me: Please try calling back when we're not so busy, the robotic voice said. Not so busy? It was 3 AM in America. How busy could they have been? Everyone waits until 3 AM to call customer support?
All right. So I emailed them. And just now, when B and I returned from our adventures, I got this lovely response via email:
Please allow me to inform you that prepaid customers cannot roam internationally except in Canada and Mexico. We do apologize but you will not be able to use your phone in Europe. We cannot provide you the SIM unlock code that you needed because your account has not been active for 90 days.
Does this mean that AFTER 90 days I can unlock the SIM? Furthermore, WHY is it locked? Locked against what? And then what? Do I have to get a special SIM that works in Europe? How much does THAT cost? And why the fuck do I have to wait ANY days? It's a PREPAID ACCOUNT. If I use up all my money, cut my phone off and don't worry about it! My bill, you see, is PRE-paid. I can't cheat you out of ANY money by running up a huge bill while roaming internationally!
You know, flying out here, I kind of marvelled at how our society more or less seems to function, more or less reliably. More or less. At least when it comes to technical matters. How do these planes fly? How does the mail get into my mailbox? How does the electricity almost never go off? Etc. What a miraculous age we live in!
But be warned. If you have a prepaid T-Mobile account, forget taking your phone to Europe unless you want to stick it down the front of your pants and continuously check the VIBRATE ringtone function.
Well. In a way, I'm glad I don't have to screw with it. Eleven times here, and when did I ever need a mobile phone before? Answer: never. So what the hell.
---
We ran errands today and on the way back to the car, parked near us, I saw the absolutely SMALLEST car I've ever seen. It's microscopic. It makes the Smart car look huge by comparison.
This is it (photo stolen from Flickr, but this is the car in question):
It's a French car called the Aixam.
I'd love to have one, if they'd go faster than 45 KPH (about 30 MPH.) I mean, sometimes I want to go 46 or even 47 KPH, so this car is out of the question.
But the most fun would be answering this question from all the SUV-driving rednecks and uberyuppies I know:
"Why are you driving THAT tiny thing?"
"I'm trying to compensate for my rather gigantic apparatus."
Which is ridiculous, of course, because I'm only slightly gigantic. But still.
---
Heringsschmaus is a traditional Austrian feast associated with Fasching (that is, the carnival season) and it involves eating fish (traditionally herring, but any fish will do) on Ash Wednesday. Lent begins and you're not supposed to eat meat. At least, not land animal meat, I guess. So, fish.
A lot of restaurants in Vienna offer Heringsshmaus dinners or buffets but the cost has gotten a little out of hand in recent years. But, no problem: B's mom and dad invited us and B's sister, R, over to their house to eat.
As a side note, herring is supposed to be a wonderful cure for hangovers, which you're likely to be suffering as a result of all the drinking you've been doing up until now during Fasching (or maybe just because you're European.)
We didn't have hangovers, B and I, but we were looking forward to Heringsschmaus with her family. B's mom made some fantastic open-face sandwiches:
These sandwiches had either tuna, or sardines, or salmon, or matjes.
She also made a herring salad, which I didn't get a picture of. I was too busy shoveling the stuff into my pie hole.
We sat around the table laughing and telling stories. Later I showed pics and videos of home. It kind of surprised me that B's family wanted to know more about where I live and what goes on there (answer: NOT.TOO.MUCH.) but they did, so it occured to me that I need to shoot a video of the city, my hangouts, my wonderful friends, and my work-in-progress house. Send 'em a DVD.
In a way I'm afraid to do this, because once the Viennese see how horrible their city is in comparison to the fantasy wonderland I inhabit, they'll no doubt begin a mass wave of emigration. But that wouldn't be so bad...we had the Irish, the Italians, the Chinese, etc. through the years and now I guess it's time for the Austrians.
Within a generation, we'll all be eating herring and fine pastries and crying about our horrible soccer team.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Day 3 of 14: Krems
A fun day with B and her oldest, best friend M.
B and I took the subway into the 3rd District to meet M at the hospital where she works as consultant for the kidney department.
First thing I noticed: while this ain't the finest of Vienna's hospitals, according to both B and M, I must say I find it a very civilized culture when the hospital cafeteria offers WINE along with the various other beverages. Imagine that in a US hospital. Then imagine what they'd try to charge you for a glass.
M took us upstairs to meet some of her colleagues and take a tour. We saw the rooms where the patients were undergoing dialysis. This takes about four hours, and each bed has a flat-screen TV angled downward so the patient can occupy themselves during the blood cleansing. All the patients, approximately twenty of them, were together in three large adjacent rooms.
There was a private room where a patient was hooked up to a machine. M explained that this patient had hepatitis, and though it isn't neccesary to segregate these patients from the others for any medical reasons, officials in the ministry of health decreed that they had to be segregated. M walked in and started showing us how everything worked, pointing out which tube carried blood FROM the patient, into the machine, and which tube led from the machine carrying the cleansed blood BACK INTO the patient. I tried to look at the machine more than the patient, an elderly woman who took this intrusion calmly but who probably would have preferred we'd stay the fuck out of her room.
Then M took us to the 15th floor so I could get a few panoramic shots of Vienna, like this:
If you click on the pic to enlarge it, you'll notice snowy patches in the hills in the far background. These are the vineyards just north of where B lives, where we were walking my first day here. And as I mentioned, you can imagine the view you'd have of Vienna from those hills, particularly at night, the city lit up and spread before you.
M slipped out of her doc clothes into street clothes and we hit the highway, heading for Krems, a beautiful little town located in the Wachau. I encourage you to click on the links and scroll down to see how beautiful this area and this 1000-year-old town are.
We were here mainly to visit the "Sculptures of the American Dream" exhibit at Kunsthalle Krems, the local art museum. More on that in a moment.
There was another bit of fun, though: It turns out we were arriving just in time for the start of Faschingsumzug, a parade having something to do with the culmination of carnival, or the end of Lent, or some kind of religious bullshit I can't seem to wrap my mind around. But the celebration itself, the fun of it, the costumes the people wore, the overall good feeling, was something even this pagan could enjoy.
People lined the narrow cobblestone street and watched the parade participants walk or ride by. There were all kinds of costumes, and the participants threw candy toward the crowd, blew huge clouds of feathers and confetti on us, and---my favorite part---would occasionally stop for a few moments to pour shots of schapps or Most for us to drink! Most is a kind of wine-like alcoholic beverage made from apples or pears, but it isn't sweet. Me likes!
BELOW: Here's a dramatic pic of a parade participant contributing to the deliquency of an old man by offering him a glass of Most.
BELOW: A pretty little Austrian girl dressed up in Japanese regalia.
BELOW: Stilt Boy. This dude was a good juggler; he and another guy, not on stilts, juggled three pins, then one by one tossed the pins to the other guy, who then juggled them, then back and forth like that.
BELOW: This was one of my favorites. While not the most colorful parade display, click on the pic to enlarge it and you will see that the person is portraying Obama in the White House. You can barely make out the US flag at the top of the cardboard "White House," and the sign on the left says "Obama Moves Into the White House." Some people were chanting "Yes We Can!" and encouraging their children to chant along with them.
The sign on the right says: Bye Bye Bush.
Black people are hard to come by in the Wachau, so we can forgive this person her heartfelt "blackface" imitation of Obama.
As a side note: I am no fan of politicians of any party. For the most part I find them despicable liars, or at the very least masterful bullshitters. I am neither Republican nor Democrat nor anything else but independent, but I have to say Bush fucked up royally. Bush is a guy I might actually enjoy having a beer with, assuming he'd DRINK a motherfucking beer, and he might actually be likeable, kind of, if he was just sitting around talking about cows or baseball, or something.
Obama has so many inheirited problems to cope with it will be a miracle if he isn't ultimately seen as a horrible failure, but probably so would anyone coming into office at this point in US history. I happen to like the fact that the guy has a damned BRAIN and doesn't feel the need to pretend he's not an Ivy-Leaguer, unlike Bush who is the very motherfucking DEFINITION of an "elitist" but somehow managed to bullshit his fans into thinking he was a good 'ol boy. Really? Daddy was head of CIA, vice president, president, ultra-wealthy, from a connected family, Bush attended Yale---and he's a good 'ol boy? Horseshit. I've spent most of my life around Joe Sixpack chuckleheads and let me tell you: Bush isn't one of them. Well, maybe the chucklehead part.
Now onto the art exhibit.
Duane Hanson was an incredibly talented US artist who made hyperrealistic sculptures of ordinary human beings. I'd seen his works in photos but never before in person. In this exhibit in Krems I got a chance to see the real thing and let me tell you, some of these sculptures were indistinguishable from a real human being. Hanson spent an incredible amount of time and trouble manufacturing, dressing, and painting these sculptures.
Hanson made it a point to offer up social commentary in his work. I'm not going to try to describe it or explain it, but I encourage you to click on the links and Google his work and see for yourself. I don't think Hanson was trying to be holier-than-thou or make fun of the types of people he portrayed---instead, I get the idea he thought it was kind of sad that people would just settle for a life of spiritual and intellectual death. There's nothing wrong with being ordinary, or having an ordinary job. But there's nothing that says the janitor (for instance) can't also have a taste for opera or architecture or literature. There's nothing that says the fat guy sipping a beer while riding his lawn mower can't also be politically astute, or have an interest in fashion. They are not neccesarily mutually exclusive.
If you look at Hanson's sculptures, you'll see the so-called "ordinary" person. If he or she is ordinary, it's not because he or she failed to become rich or famous or have friends who possess those qualities, but rather because the person believed he had to follow some kind of bullshit SCRIPT that required compliance. I've spent a lifetime around people of the kind Hanson sculpted, and most of them are decent and fairly likeable people. But they aren't too often very THOUGHTFUL or REFLECTIVE or CONTEMPLATIVE people, and that's the tragedy----not that they're overweight or have bad diets or are unattractive or don't get invited to cocktail parties. No---the real tragedy is that they typecast themselves.
B and I took the subway into the 3rd District to meet M at the hospital where she works as consultant for the kidney department.
First thing I noticed: while this ain't the finest of Vienna's hospitals, according to both B and M, I must say I find it a very civilized culture when the hospital cafeteria offers WINE along with the various other beverages. Imagine that in a US hospital. Then imagine what they'd try to charge you for a glass.
M took us upstairs to meet some of her colleagues and take a tour. We saw the rooms where the patients were undergoing dialysis. This takes about four hours, and each bed has a flat-screen TV angled downward so the patient can occupy themselves during the blood cleansing. All the patients, approximately twenty of them, were together in three large adjacent rooms.
There was a private room where a patient was hooked up to a machine. M explained that this patient had hepatitis, and though it isn't neccesary to segregate these patients from the others for any medical reasons, officials in the ministry of health decreed that they had to be segregated. M walked in and started showing us how everything worked, pointing out which tube carried blood FROM the patient, into the machine, and which tube led from the machine carrying the cleansed blood BACK INTO the patient. I tried to look at the machine more than the patient, an elderly woman who took this intrusion calmly but who probably would have preferred we'd stay the fuck out of her room.
Then M took us to the 15th floor so I could get a few panoramic shots of Vienna, like this:
If you click on the pic to enlarge it, you'll notice snowy patches in the hills in the far background. These are the vineyards just north of where B lives, where we were walking my first day here. And as I mentioned, you can imagine the view you'd have of Vienna from those hills, particularly at night, the city lit up and spread before you.
M slipped out of her doc clothes into street clothes and we hit the highway, heading for Krems, a beautiful little town located in the Wachau. I encourage you to click on the links and scroll down to see how beautiful this area and this 1000-year-old town are.
We were here mainly to visit the "Sculptures of the American Dream" exhibit at Kunsthalle Krems, the local art museum. More on that in a moment.
There was another bit of fun, though: It turns out we were arriving just in time for the start of Faschingsumzug, a parade having something to do with the culmination of carnival, or the end of Lent, or some kind of religious bullshit I can't seem to wrap my mind around. But the celebration itself, the fun of it, the costumes the people wore, the overall good feeling, was something even this pagan could enjoy.
People lined the narrow cobblestone street and watched the parade participants walk or ride by. There were all kinds of costumes, and the participants threw candy toward the crowd, blew huge clouds of feathers and confetti on us, and---my favorite part---would occasionally stop for a few moments to pour shots of schapps or Most for us to drink! Most is a kind of wine-like alcoholic beverage made from apples or pears, but it isn't sweet. Me likes!
BELOW: Here's a dramatic pic of a parade participant contributing to the deliquency of an old man by offering him a glass of Most.
BELOW: A pretty little Austrian girl dressed up in Japanese regalia.
BELOW: Stilt Boy. This dude was a good juggler; he and another guy, not on stilts, juggled three pins, then one by one tossed the pins to the other guy, who then juggled them, then back and forth like that.
BELOW: This was one of my favorites. While not the most colorful parade display, click on the pic to enlarge it and you will see that the person is portraying Obama in the White House. You can barely make out the US flag at the top of the cardboard "White House," and the sign on the left says "Obama Moves Into the White House." Some people were chanting "Yes We Can!" and encouraging their children to chant along with them.
The sign on the right says: Bye Bye Bush.
Black people are hard to come by in the Wachau, so we can forgive this person her heartfelt "blackface" imitation of Obama.
As a side note: I am no fan of politicians of any party. For the most part I find them despicable liars, or at the very least masterful bullshitters. I am neither Republican nor Democrat nor anything else but independent, but I have to say Bush fucked up royally. Bush is a guy I might actually enjoy having a beer with, assuming he'd DRINK a motherfucking beer, and he might actually be likeable, kind of, if he was just sitting around talking about cows or baseball, or something.
Obama has so many inheirited problems to cope with it will be a miracle if he isn't ultimately seen as a horrible failure, but probably so would anyone coming into office at this point in US history. I happen to like the fact that the guy has a damned BRAIN and doesn't feel the need to pretend he's not an Ivy-Leaguer, unlike Bush who is the very motherfucking DEFINITION of an "elitist" but somehow managed to bullshit his fans into thinking he was a good 'ol boy. Really? Daddy was head of CIA, vice president, president, ultra-wealthy, from a connected family, Bush attended Yale---and he's a good 'ol boy? Horseshit. I've spent most of my life around Joe Sixpack chuckleheads and let me tell you: Bush isn't one of them. Well, maybe the chucklehead part.
Now onto the art exhibit.
Duane Hanson was an incredibly talented US artist who made hyperrealistic sculptures of ordinary human beings. I'd seen his works in photos but never before in person. In this exhibit in Krems I got a chance to see the real thing and let me tell you, some of these sculptures were indistinguishable from a real human being. Hanson spent an incredible amount of time and trouble manufacturing, dressing, and painting these sculptures.
Hanson made it a point to offer up social commentary in his work. I'm not going to try to describe it or explain it, but I encourage you to click on the links and Google his work and see for yourself. I don't think Hanson was trying to be holier-than-thou or make fun of the types of people he portrayed---instead, I get the idea he thought it was kind of sad that people would just settle for a life of spiritual and intellectual death. There's nothing wrong with being ordinary, or having an ordinary job. But there's nothing that says the janitor (for instance) can't also have a taste for opera or architecture or literature. There's nothing that says the fat guy sipping a beer while riding his lawn mower can't also be politically astute, or have an interest in fashion. They are not neccesarily mutually exclusive.
If you look at Hanson's sculptures, you'll see the so-called "ordinary" person. If he or she is ordinary, it's not because he or she failed to become rich or famous or have friends who possess those qualities, but rather because the person believed he had to follow some kind of bullshit SCRIPT that required compliance. I've spent a lifetime around people of the kind Hanson sculpted, and most of them are decent and fairly likeable people. But they aren't too often very THOUGHTFUL or REFLECTIVE or CONTEMPLATIVE people, and that's the tragedy----not that they're overweight or have bad diets or are unattractive or don't get invited to cocktail parties. No---the real tragedy is that they typecast themselves.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Day 2 of 14: Walkabout, Art, Valentine's Day Dinner
It stopped snowing. This morning about 4:30, I heard the sound of snow shovels on the sidewalk below. There wasn't a lot of snow, but there was enough, and they're diligent about clearing it here.
We took the streetcar to town and walked around window shopping. I'm not much of a shopper but I see things in Vienna I don't see in the states. At least, not in Oklahoma---I'm sure you'd see Prada and Cartier and Ralph Lauren and that other shit in Manhattan. That kind of stuff ain't for me, but from time to time it's interesting to look at, if for no other reason than to wonder why someone would spend the price of a good used car for a purse.
It was overcast and just a bit rainy, and the occasional horse-drawn carriage clip-clopped along the cobblestones. I told B: "If I stumble upon a decent man-purse in one of these shops, I'll take a look." And I did see some good looking murses, but they were leather and very expensive. Nice to look at (and, oddly enough, to smell) but too fancy for this Jethro.
Dropped into the Cafe Hawelka for a coffee.
Then to the Belvedere to check out the Alfons Mucha exhibit. This guy was a hell of a graphic artist, and prolific to boot.
Illustrators don't get their due. "Serious" artists like Picasso get the glory but give me a good illustrator any day. Norman Rockwell was no slouch, and I really liked his depictions of Americana (whimsical though they may be.) But Mucha's stuff is even more enjoyable to me, mostly because he masterfully combines realism with fantasy.
Check out his work; here's an example:
And while Mucha did a lot of commercial illustrations, he was also a "serious" painter. Google his stuff and see for yourself.
We took the streetcar to the Rathaus (city hall) to check out the ice-skating rink they've set up.
Then we took the streetcar to Hansen, a very nice restaurant in the basement of the former stock exchange.
I like to eat, and I like good food, but it's rare for me to spend too much $$$ on dinner. However, I wanted to take B somewhere nice for a belated Valentine's Day treat. When the 14th rolled around this year, she was in Vienna and I was wherever the hell I usually am, so we figured this would be our special day.
Check out the menu. What would you have ordered?
And as long as we're talking about food, what about this?
The cancer continues to spread, even here. Well---what the McFuck ya gonna do?
Maybe in Vienna, if you're tired of ordering the same old McShit, you can get a McWienerschnitzel.
I dunno. Maybe I'm a snob about this kind of thing.
We took the streetcar to town and walked around window shopping. I'm not much of a shopper but I see things in Vienna I don't see in the states. At least, not in Oklahoma---I'm sure you'd see Prada and Cartier and Ralph Lauren and that other shit in Manhattan. That kind of stuff ain't for me, but from time to time it's interesting to look at, if for no other reason than to wonder why someone would spend the price of a good used car for a purse.
It was overcast and just a bit rainy, and the occasional horse-drawn carriage clip-clopped along the cobblestones. I told B: "If I stumble upon a decent man-purse in one of these shops, I'll take a look." And I did see some good looking murses, but they were leather and very expensive. Nice to look at (and, oddly enough, to smell) but too fancy for this Jethro.
Dropped into the Cafe Hawelka for a coffee.
Then to the Belvedere to check out the Alfons Mucha exhibit. This guy was a hell of a graphic artist, and prolific to boot.
Illustrators don't get their due. "Serious" artists like Picasso get the glory but give me a good illustrator any day. Norman Rockwell was no slouch, and I really liked his depictions of Americana (whimsical though they may be.) But Mucha's stuff is even more enjoyable to me, mostly because he masterfully combines realism with fantasy.
Check out his work; here's an example:
And while Mucha did a lot of commercial illustrations, he was also a "serious" painter. Google his stuff and see for yourself.
We took the streetcar to the Rathaus (city hall) to check out the ice-skating rink they've set up.
Then we took the streetcar to Hansen, a very nice restaurant in the basement of the former stock exchange.
I like to eat, and I like good food, but it's rare for me to spend too much $$$ on dinner. However, I wanted to take B somewhere nice for a belated Valentine's Day treat. When the 14th rolled around this year, she was in Vienna and I was wherever the hell I usually am, so we figured this would be our special day.
Check out the menu. What would you have ordered?
And as long as we're talking about food, what about this?
The cancer continues to spread, even here. Well---what the McFuck ya gonna do?
Maybe in Vienna, if you're tired of ordering the same old McShit, you can get a McWienerschnitzel.
I dunno. Maybe I'm a snob about this kind of thing.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Day 1 of 14: Arrival In Vienna & A Snowy Hike
Arrived in snowy Vienna.No problems with the flights. OKC to Washington DC, DC to Vienna.
It's about 8.5 hours DC to Vienna. About an hour into the flight, I popped a couple of Halcyon, and that was it: Slumberland, Daddy-O! Didn't get the first drink, the meal, the second drink, breakfast, nothing. Woke up about 90 minutes before the plane landed, my head full of dreams.
Snowy in Vienna and the traffic was relatively light. B drove me to her parents' house, where I had coffee and cake and conversation. Then back to her place for a hearty brunch---homemade sauerkraut paprika soup, garlic bread with anchovy butter, hot tea.
She's in the living room watching skiing, which the Austrians are apeshit for. Me, less apeshit about it, thought I'd take this opportunity to show you how I do my flying thing.
This is a backpack and a briefcase, and they contain everything I need for two weeks. I DO NOT and WILL NOT CHECK LUGGAGE. If I can't carry it on the plane, I'm carrying TOO MUCH.
Clothes go in the backpack. Clothes are squishy, and so with the compression straps on the pack you can cinch everything down into the smallest possible shape. This pack fits easily into the smallest overhead bin.
The briefcase contains all the ancillary stuff. I keep it under the seat in front of me on the plane.
Here's the contents of the briefcase. From left to right, top row:Mobile phone, mobile phone manual, car charger, reading glasses, sun glasses, toiletries, water bottle.
Second row: MP3 player, spare earbuds, 3 X 5 cards, deoderant.
Third row: USB cord for camera / mobile phone / Zoom H2, spare batteries, media cards, Zoom H2 audio recorder, miniature tripod, electric clippers, bag of beef jerky.
Fourth row: card reader, vitamins / minerals / medicine, fanny pack, notebooks.
Traveling light is the only way to fly.
---
LATER:
I took a little nap after brunch. Then we took a walk.
B lives very near the vineyards which lie to the north of Vienna. Walk a few blocks and you're on the Beethovengang, a very quiet residential street. On your left, a small creek. On your right, big houses. Eventually the houses give way to vineyards and you find yourself climbing ever higher. If you keep going you're a couple of hundred feet up and can see Vienna and the Danube below you. The pic below isn't THAT scene, but gives a general idea of the lay of the land:
You can adopt grapevines in the name of someone special to you. This is to preserve the wine culture of this area, an effort to keep the vineyards from vanishing only to be replaced by obnoxious hilltop mansions. Below, a few bipartisan examples of grapevine sponsorship:
The Pope, Joey Rats, was also represented grapevine-wise. And in one vineyard, the Pope's vine was right next door to that of Georg Gänswein, a handsome priest who is the Pope's secretary---and reputed by some (especially my girlfriend) to be Joey Rats' BOYFRIEND.
I thought: How romantic. Side by side, they can suck each others' grapes throughout eternity.
Our walk ended at Fidelio, the neighboorhood restaurant where we had soup and wine...
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