Friday, July 30, 2010

Kim Jong Il, Why Don't You Go Fuck Yourself?

We drove to the MAK to see the "Flowers For Kim Il Sung" exhibit.

It's a first-time-ever exhibition of North Korean art, poster production, and architecture from North Korea, in cooperation with that country.

It's not that I didn't expect to see the usual propaganda bullshit in which the "Great Leader" is worshiped like we in America worship the military, money, or the Dallas Cowboys. I knew more or less what to expect when it came to the art.

What I didn't expect was that I would be expected to go through a fucking security check on the way into the gallery. I'm just glad I found this out before I paid---had I paid first I'd have demanded my money back.

Here's the deal. I've been to the Uffizi in Florence, where you can see magnificent works of art by guys like Da Vinci, Michaelangelo, Rembrandt, etc. You know, really big art guys whose work kind of means something. And guess what? I didn't have to go through a metal detector because some asshole dictator was afraid---justifiably----that someone like Banksy (or hell, me) might paint a Hitler mustache on the Great Leader's fat little face.

Outraged, I said "Forget this" and went outside and sat on the steps while B toured the exhibit. It just kind of galled me that anyone would kowtow to some midget dictator who "allows" such obvious bullshit propaganda to be seen but who's frightened about the reaction to the point that he wants me to go through a metal detector. Hey---GO FUCK YOURSELF.

When B came out, she told me she understood the security concerns because after seeing some of the paintings she also kind of wanted to deface them.

Then we bought groceries and came home and I made a big pot of chili. B made dressing for the salad. Delicious.

At one point during our dinner I wondered what the average guy in North Korea is eating tonight.

But I pushed the thought out of my head.

Imagining & German Lessons Again

Part of my 9-week European getaway is to imagine what it would be like to actually live in Vienna, as opposed to just visiting twice a year.

For one thing, I would never drive in Vienna. I'd only use public transportation and occasionally a bicycle. It's too expensive to own a car, and I don't like some of the narrow streets here, the uncontrolled intersections (well, they're controlled by everyone's understanding of the rules----which I don't understand) and there's too much shit to beware of---the movement of public transportation conveyances, which have the right of way, etc. Fuck it. I wouldn't drive here. Besides, for about $500 a year you can buy a pass good for all the public transportation, 24-7-365. Who the hell would bother owning a car?

If I lived here I'd live with B, whose household already has everything you'd need----furniture, cookware, etc. But what if I had none of that? Well, you can spend way too much money equipping a home---or you can live like an impoverished (yet not unhappy) student and buy your shit in the immigrant part of town. Yesterday I was in the 16th District, Ottakring, for my German lesson. This district is heavy with immigrants, mostly Turks. I walked around killing time, looking in the shop windows. I found shops where you could equip a basic kitchen for not much money----buy a pot, a pan, a knife, a bowl and plate and cup. Or, you could go to the Uber-Yup part of town and pay five times as much for essentially the same things.

If you really wanted to save money, you could hit the flea markets---though most of what I saw there wasn't anything I'd want, or use.

I eat out a lot when I visit Vienna, but that's a treat because I'm on vacation. If I lived here, I'd economize a lot more. You can buy fresh fruit, vegetables, spices, anything you need at several open-air markets around town. If you're wandering around, buy a couple of apples, a piece of salami, some bread, and carry a quart of water with you. You won't go hungry and will probably be healthier than eating out all the time.

These are things I'm slowly doing anyhow, in America. As a retiree with a small pension, and no interest in ever having another job, I have to figure this stuff out. One of the things I hope to do is turn my entire yard into a garden filled with edible things----fruit, vegetables, herbs. Walk outside and pick your food off the plants! Have less yard to mow.

----

A nice sunny day when I took off for my next German lesson. I roamed around the 16th District for a while first, then stopped at a pizza joint for a quick lunch. A slice of spinach pizza and a beer was 2.80 Euro. I sat at a table on the sidewalk watching the world go by.

A camper pulled up and parked at the curb in front of me. Two guys stepped out and walked off. I noticed they didn't bother locking the door...

....then I saw a massive dog stick his head out the back window. Then I saw another dog, the same breed, walk up and sit in the passenger seat. He was one of the biggest, most muscular dogs I've ever seen. I took pictures:
Nice doggie...nice doggie!
If this dog ever got loose, the entire neighborhood would do 
a group Jackie Gleason impersonation: Homina! Homina! Homina! [GULP!]

The weather in Vienna has been weird this summer. Kind of unseasonably cold at the beginning, then unseasonably hot for a while (which is how it was when I arrived) and now kind of spring or fall-like, with rain. It was a sunny pleasant day at first:
A nice day in the 16th.

But by 2:30, when it was time for the German lesson in the park, it looked so much like rain that we moved to the school, a couple of blocks up the street.

I made a mistake in my last post---the guy I thought was from Slovakia was actually from Serbia. I don't know how to spell his name but it sounds like "Dragon." He's a nice guy. His son was there in the park, playing soccer with the other kids, who were a mish-mash of different national origins. The boy was about ten. I sat on the bench and introduced myself, in German, and he answered back in German, though he still lives in Serbia and was only visiting.

Dragon told me he's been here about five months. His mom lives here, as does his brother and the brother's family. He isn't working right now but hopes to find work soon---and, I suppose, move his family here. The thing I admire about the guy is that he's really trying to get ahead and assimilate, unlike a lot of immigrants who insist on basically bringing their culture here and not deviating from it, sometimes to the extent of not even learning how to speak German. Fuck that shit---if you move to a country, learn the goddamned language. No excuses, no bullshit. Learn. The. Language, period. And Dragon is learning it. He already speaks Serbian, of course, as well as some Russian and English and German. During class I noticed he kind of participated in the lesson but then sat next to one of the teachers and took his dictionary and a piece of paper out, and began asking her a bunch of questions, essentially getting a private lesson. Good for him. 

The German language has "cases"---nominative, accusative, genitive, and dative. I have no fucking idea what these things are or how to wrap my mind around them, though I'm trying. But Dragon told me Serbian has seven cases (!). B already told me Latin has six. This case bullshit is my biggest stumbling block because the case that a sentence "is in" determines what article you assign to it. 

For instance, in English we say "a truck hit a pedestrian" or "a pedestrian was hit by a truck" or "I saw a truck hit a pedestrian." A truck or a pedestrian or a chucklehead, or whatever. But in German, there are several ways to say "a" but only one of them is right and it depends on the case! And if you use the word "the" instead of "a", the same thing applies---there are several ways to say "the" but only one of them will be right. And I can never figure out which fucking case a sentence is in so I always end up sounding like a two year old when I talk.

Anyhow. At 5 the lessons concluded and we stepped out into--a rainstorm. Walked several blocks to the subway station, changed trains a few stops later, and when I exited the second station the rain was pouring down, Oklahoma-hard. I popped the umbrella and trotted over to the enclosed bus stop. It was really pouring...

B made a nice casserole for dinner, then we went out into the rainy night for drinks with friends. Got home about 10:30, popped a bottle of white, and sat in the living room enjoying the sound of the rain outside.