A year or so ago she began mentoring two young women, who were in training to become interpreters. This is unusual because men mentor men, or mentor young women only because they hope to get them into bed, but older women don't mentor younger women because they consider them competitors for jobs. This, according to B.
Each mentee (is that even a word?) found a job and each is thankful to B for the help and has stayed in touch. N, one of the young women, evidently spoke highly of B to her parents. The parents, in gratitude and perhaps some curiosity about this mysterious mentor, invited us to their home for dinner and drinks. Today was the day.
So we drove to the south of Vienna, to a section I've spent almost no time in, the 23rd District. Along the way there were several big traffic jams, which made us late. But it also gave me a chance to shoot a bit of street life as we waited in traffic, like this:
A dog sleeping at a cafe. Europe = dogs at restaurants.
N's father is originally from Hungary, and her mother is originally from Slovakia (though I guess she's actually from what used to be called Czechoslovakia, which of course has since split into two countries.) So N and her brother D grew up speaking both Slovakian and Hungarian, and when the family moved to Austria when the children were very young, they of course added German to the mix, and later English.
D, her brother, is 22 and a law student about to embark on a 9-month cross-training experience in Dublin. His English (and N's, because she's a professional interpreter) is flawless. There's a slight accent but talking to these folks is a humbling experience. How many Americans can speak even one other language, let alone three?
N's mom was a pharmacist in her former life, but when they moved to Austria she didn't speak enough German (then) to qualify as an Austrian pharmacist. Her father works for a company that manufactures vacuum tubes---you know, those things that used to be in your television and radio and guitar amp, way back before transistors?
But these aren't just any tubes----they're of astonishing quality, and the company also manufactures amplifiers that are powered by these tubes. Tubes are supposed to deliver superior sound when compared to solid state equipment, and this leads to a big debate: guys with experience in electronics (but not audio) claim that a certain voltage over a certain circuit yields a certain output, and the electrons don't give a shit whether they're going through a tube or a transistor.
However: audiophiles, musicians, and audio engineers swear that tubes deliver superior audio performance. Audio running through tubes sounds better. Me, I dunno. But R, the father, fired up his amp, which was running through a pair of other-worldly speakers made by the legendary Austrian piano manufacturer Bosendorfer (equal to, or better than Steinway pianos.)
The father used to have a store in Vienna's 1st District. D said one day, when the father was out, he was minding the store. An Irish stock broker came in and after talking to D for a while, bought equipment worth about 18,000 Euro (about $25,600 at present exchange rates) for his home stereo system. The shit is of exceptional quality.
R's setup wasn't nearly that expensive but it was great quality. We listened to a few cuts from a country CD, and a few from a string quartet.
Anyhow. Lunch: N's mom made goulash, which looked every bit like beef stew, just a bit soupier. Veal, potatoes, and carrots. Excellent. Then she served homemade Bryndzové Halušky (don't ask me to pronounce, it---I can't) which basically looks like thick pieces of spaghetti, twisted together, then cut into 1-inch lengths, onto which you put sheep cheese. It's made from potatoes, though, not flour. Really delicious stuff.
Our hosts served us an herbal liquor from Slovakia. Quite smooth and tasty.
The father said he'd pick up a bottle for me next time he's in Slovakia. Thank you, sir!
Back in the living room, we ate brownies, strawberries, and grapes...drank good coffee and had an excellent Hungarian red wine. Language: D told me his parents go back and forth between Hungarian and Slovakian when talking to each other, but when arguing, they revert to their respective native language. Bi-lingual scolding, like when Lucy and Ricky Ricardo got into it. Interesting...
The father spoke very good English but the mom spoke less English than I do German, so every so often D or N would translate for her---sometimes they'd speak German, sometimes Slovakian. It was all seamless, and made me feel pretty dumb for only having one language. I gotta work on that...
We went up on the roof of their apartment house to get a view of the architecturally interesting apartment houses across the street.
Alt-Erlaa apartment complex.
Aerial view
I genuinely enjoyed my time with this wonderful family. The kids are super-intelligent, great conversationalists, and the parents are as warm and down-to-earth as any people I've ever met. I'm going to make it a point to get together with them again before I leave, and before N returns to work later this month and D goes off on his Ireland adventure.
And N made an interesting observation. Because her mom is from one country, and her father from another, and N grew up in yet a third country, she and her brother "can never become nationalists."
You'd think people in the US, who are a diverse mix of people from all over the world, might adopt this same philosophy instead of spouting hyper-patriotic slogans all the time.
