B noticed in the paper last week that the city of Vienna gives free German lessons in four different parks throughout the city for several weeks during the summer. Unfortunately the newspaper only saw fit to print this after the lessons had been underway for some weeks, and there's only a week to go.
However, I wanted to try it out so today I took the subway to the 16th District, a heavily Turkish part of town.
I had a few hours to kill and wanted to get the lay of the land. First stop: a big outdoor market that stretches three or four blocks. All kinds of food and products here. I saw a vest I might buy later, one of those vests with a lot of pockets.
Strolled around quite a while. Bought a postcard, then found a Greek restaurant on a quiet street, on the shady side of the street. Went inside, ordered a beer and something to eat. Sat outside sipping the beer and writing the postcard, then ate and sat there awhile finishing the beer and watching the world go by. Had deep thoughts, which I'll spare you for now.
I went back to the little park where the lessons were to be given. A few women were setting up the tables, and a marker board. I was a bit early so I introduced myself, then sat on a bench sipping water and watching the (Turkish) kids playing.
The city of Vienna gives these lessons because there's been a huge influx of people from other countries, legal and otherwise, who can't speak German. This is especially true among women immigrants, many of whom don't have or want jobs but nevertheless have to navigate Austrian society, at least to some degree.
There were two picnic tables set up for the students. At my table was a guy from Slovakia, a guy from Chechnya, two women from Turkey, and a woman from Egypt. At the other table was a guy from Hungary, a guy from Ghana, and a few other people whose origins I didn't catch.
It was a beautiful day, about 80 F., and the teachers (two women and a man) took turns giving the lessons. Everything was discussed in German. I don't know how many students have been there from the start and how many were newcomers like me, but me and the Slovakian guy seemed the most knowledgeable at our table. Everyone helped each other when we could.
First they asked us our names, and where we were from. Then they asked a few questions about where we were from: was it a big country or a small country? Was our hometown big or small? How hot or cold does it get where we're from?
We learned, by reading the weather page of a free newspaper that showed a map of Austria:
1) The names of the various Austrian provinces, and their provincial capital cities.
2) The names and approximate locations of the countries surrounding Austria.
3) How to ask questions about the weather, and answer them.
I really had a good time. B predicted that if I ever moved here, I'd meet a lot of immigrants at my (mandatory!) language lessons. "You'd be bringing home Albanians, Serbians, Croats, Romanians..."
"All the -anians, yes."
Sure enough. I bet if I'd been there from the beginning, a few of us would be having beers together after class and learning about each other's countries. (During a break the Slovakian guy asked me about "snakes that make noise to warn." Rattlesnakes. I explained as best I could. Mainly: don't step on one of the fuckers.)
Class lasted from about 2:30 - 5 PM. Took the subway home, then made an excellent Tom Yum soup, with rice.
Next German lesson is Thursday, then next week on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. Then it's done for the summer. It was a lot of fun, and I learned a few things.
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Today is my father's birthday. He would have been 81 this year, but he died last July a few weeks short of his 80th birthday.
He was a good man, a straight shooter, and a pretty good dad. Unfortunately I didn't really know him as well as I wanted to, partly because that's how guys of his generation were and partly due to his upbringing, when he was "encouraged" by his mom to be seen and not heard. Getting to really know him, I realize, would have been pretty much impossible.
Mom died in '92 and Dad was never really the same after. Neither he or I are religious, or even "spiritual," whatever the fuck that might be, but Mom was a devout Catholic and believed in an afterlife.
Sipping my beer at lunch and thinking about all this, I found myself hoping that Dad and I are wrong and Mom was right, and they get to be together, young again, without kids to raise or money troubles or health problems or jobs to worry about. No two people I've ever known would deserve it more.
Happy Birthday, old man. And thanks for everything.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
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