I looked out the window and saw a balloon floating by, well-lit in the morning sun. There was something attached to the balloon. A note? A tiny camera? I tried to make it out but the object kept spinning and turning as the balloon rose...
It might be fun to attach a note with your contact information to a balloon, release it, and see if anybody gets back to you. How far will the balloon go? Which direction?
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German class. In English, mostly we form a plural of a word by adding "s". There are exceptions, like man/men, woman/women. But mostly it's "s."
But in German, let me count the ways! You can add "s", or you can add "e", or you can add "en", or you can add "n", or you can add "nen", or you can slap an umlaut over one of the letters, or you can add an umlaut and "er", or you can add an umlaut and "e", or you can eliminate the last letter of the word and substitute "en." Or you can just leave the word alone! In some cases, the plural is the same as the singular!
And what are the rules for which goes where? Who. Knows?
But I'm having fun and after class, I rode part of the way home on the subway with the Iranian student, Hamed. A friendly guy, with gentle handshake and quick to smile. But I'd sized him up as a fighter---a boxer or wrestler---and on the train he told me he used to box in Iran, but (in pidgin German) "I cannot train here." We don't speak good enough German for me to find out exactly why he can't train---maybe the gyms are too expensive, or prejudiced, or his immigration status is shaky, or whatever.
But I told him: if you want, we can train together. We'll see if we can work it out somehow.
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When I got home, it was time for a quick bite and then we dashed out for a really enjoyable, interesting bike ride.
I hate to start off this way, because my friends in Oklahoma are frying in the relentless heat wave, but it was perfect yesterday, weather-wise. Blue skies, big fluffy white clouds, shirtsleeve temperatures, a slight breeze. A day where the weather itself lifts your spirits.
B learned of a long bike trail, built on the site of an old railway. To get there you ride along the Neue Donau and eventually find yourself in the 22nd District. I've only been in this district a time or two before, and it has a definite village feeling to it---indeed, it is composed of five formerly separate communities. It was fun riding through there...
We got a little turned around, even though B spent an hour on the Web, printing out maps, directions, etc. before we left. But a kindly older lady with shockingly bright, dyed red hair stopped her bicycle when we asked for help, and she guided us (more or less---we still got a little lost, I think due to the woman's incomplete directions) toward the path. More riding through the "village" that is part of the 22nd, and then you're out in the country with farm fields, rolling hills, vineyards, and small villages dotting the landscape here and there.
A view of the infamous "European Welfare Desert"
I'm glad we don't waste tax dollars on things like this in Oklahoma [cough, cough]
Somebody took the time, trouble, and expense to put this wonderful biking trail together for the enjoyment of----do I dare say it?---The People. Yes, ladies and gentleman, this is your European Welfare Desert, sucking the life out of each and every one of its citizens by providing picturesque bike paths, when they could be spending the money fighting a couple of wars overseas for ten years. Silly Europeans! [cough, cough]
So we rolled along for a couple of hours, finally coming to the outskirts of a village called Obersdorf. There was the train station---and also the train, which B thought we'd miss. But where was the ticket machine?!
Rather than search for it helplessly while the train pulled away---and then have to wait another 30 minutes for the next train---we just jumped on the train with our bikes and hoped there was no conductor aboard. There wasn't. We'd have paid a hefty fine if we got caught without tickets...
Back in Vienna, the sky had darkened and the wind was blowing harder. We rode home, our legs shaking and our asses sore. But it had been a great afternoon...
---
A few hours after coming home, I took off again, this time for a beer and dinner with my new friend D, the young man whose sister is B's colleague, and whose parents hosted us for dinner last week.
It was maybe a 40 minute streetcar ride to the meeting place, and from there we walked to a nearby Irish (!) pub called Charlie P's. I'd never been there before. Turned out to be a good meeting place---and the burgers looked really delicious (I had a club sandwich instead.)
Our conversation was all over the map: politics in America, politics in Austria, how the two are similar, how they're different. The legal system in each country----America and England have similar legal systems, but Europe has its differences from the Anglo-Saxons.
We each learned a few new words----I taught D "disintegrate" and "inertia", and he taught me "zerfallen," which translates to disintegrate, and "Kabarettist," which he described as a comedian but one who emphasizes serious things like politics.
D also gave me a primer on the history of a few of Austria's main print news publications (Profil, Kronen Zeitung [which D said was "Austria's version of FOX News, in print form"], Die Presse, and Der Standard. He touched on the rise of a right-wing Austrian politician named Heinz-Christian Strache, and we discussed the problem of Austrian politicians now beginning to adopt American methods of organizing and running campaigns---I told him the iconic image in American campaign brochures is the candidate with his jacket off, slung over his shoulder, his sleeves rolled up, looking off into the distance with his chin held high---just like the poses you'd see in Soviet propaganda posters of proud, strong factory workers and farmers.
Folks, the bullshit never ends----and now we're exporting it to Europe.
D told me of an important organization called Centropa. From their website:
"Centropa is a Vienna and Budapest-based non-profit NGO that uses advanced technologies to preserve Jewish memory in Central and Eastern Europe, the former Soviet Union, the Balkans and the Baltics, and then uses those same technologies to disseminate our findings in creative and innovative ways."
The generation of people who spent time in concentration camps is dying off---and when their grandchildren are gone, who will remain who has heard a survivor's first-hand account? "Never again" only works if people are reminded of the horrors human beings are capable of----but also of the courage of people who survive such horrors.
D and I spent a few hours together then walked back to the subway station. I'd learned a lot, and had a good time. I enjoy being a student, and I enjoy having enlightening conversations with people who know things I don't know.
I think D got the short end of the deal, but he was gracious and seemed not to mind too much.
